A Scholar's travels with a Witcher

by Spike368

Sent out to gather the knowledge of the real world. A young scholar from the University of Oxenfurt finds a wounded Witcher on the steps to the inn where he was staying. So he starts gathering the material for his journals. Rated T for language I will be publishing this story on Royal Road /profile/349358

108. Chapter 108

(Content warning: This chapter contains a scene which involves an autistic person having a meltdown. I'm going to talk about it in the first A/N which carries a bit of a spoiler warning so either read the A/N first and then the chapter, or come back afterwards, up to you.)

(A/N: As I think I said before when Helfdan was first introduced. I actually don't know anyone that is on the spectrum to the extent that Helfdan is intended to be. So I have no measurement of how he measures up on that scale. So what I know about Autism comes from professionals who are trained in what to look for and then trained on how to deal with it. Especially how to deal with it when a person is having a meltdown. The very term "Meltdown" is taken from that training. So in that regard, please don't shoot the messenger.

What happens here and how the relevant characters deal with the situation is based on some of that knowledge.

So first of all, the portrayal of the "Meltdown" is not going to be perfect. I know this because, every person's brain works differently. So what you are reading is my best guess. I am sorry if this is not your experience but it was the best that I could do.

Secondly. The way that the other characters deal with it is based on what I've been told professionals are supposed to do in the event of someone having a Meltdown, but it is not the same as what these people are trained in. This is an active choice. I made this choice on the grounds that our society is far more advanced in their knowledge of how these things work and what we should do in the event of a meltdown occurring than the characters in the story. So what the characters do, is what their best guess is given their knowledge of the person involved.

So please do not take their actions as a template for what to do if you find yourself in this situation. I have run it past people with the necessary training and they agree that it is far from perfect.

If you do want to know how to help someone who is dealing with this kind of thing and would like to know how to help, then firstly I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for that thought but secondly, to seek out advice on how to deal with the situation from the proper professionals.)

(A/N2: Contrary to rumour, I have not given up on this piece. I have just been away for a few days for an unexpected holiday and as such, this chapter was delayed in being produced. Believe me when I say, that you will absolutely know when this is done. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading)

It was the cold that eventually woke me.

It was a bitter, creeping thing that managed to tunnel it's way through the clean clothes, salvaged blankets and cloaks that I had formed into a kind of cocoon. A cocoon that I had hoped to emerge from, butterfly like in the morning. But that was not what happened. Instead, the cold had managed to find those few cracks in my defences and worm their way in with small fingers and invisible tendrils.

So I woke up. And tried to deny it with determination and concentration. I tried to convince myself that my body was warm and dry and that I had nothing to worry about. That I should just roll over and go back to sleep. I even tried this very action. But it turns out that willpower is not enough to drive away freezing, supernatural cold.

The act of rolling over opened new chinks in my defences, new ways for the cold to invade my lair. Which made me have to think about trying to correct things, so I tried to move, in order to correct the blankets and things around myself so that I might be warmer. But movement was a mistake because that meant that my body exploded into a sea of pain.

In lying down, on the cold ground, after all of the exertions of the previous day. I was stiffer than a board. It also served to remind me of all the small injuries that I had taken. The gash to my leg, the wound to my arm, the bruises and scrapes and jarred limbs. Saying that I was "sore" was not the word for it. I lay there for a while, waiting for the agony to subside a little to see if that would allow me to return to the blessed release of sleep. But it was not to be.

I was awake now and sooner or later, that simple truth needs to be acknowledged. I was awake and I needed to confront the morning.

Which, of course, was easier said than done. I almost groaned with the effort but I wanted to keep my noises to myself. Judging by the light it was still the early hours of the morning. There was also a certain disconnect which came from being reminded that it was technically, according to the calendar I mean, still the height of summer. Which meant that if the light was telling me that it was still the early hours of the morning. Then it must be really early in the morning indeed.

I managed to make it up to a sitting position and rearranged my cloak and blankets into a more... accessible configuration before starting to massage my limbs while I had a look around.

The fire had begun to burn low now as, presumably, we had run out of driftwood and things to burn. We were a little concerned about the possibility of roving bands of Nilfgaardian sailors so we had decided that it would be unwise to go down to the beach to gather more. It had seemed a little risky at the time but now, I would have gladly undertaken the risk myself despite the fact that I could only move with a kind of geriatric shuffle.

Just about everyone was still asleep, or trying to. I could see Svein was on watch, sitting nearby, staring out to sea with hollow eyes. I briefly considered wriggling a bit closer to the fire in an effort to get some more warmth and trying for a bit more sleep, but it seemed to be a little bit of a wasted effort. Besides, the man might want, or need, a little company.

"Good morning Scribbler." He told me without looking up.

"Seems a little cold to be a "Good" morning." I commented.

He grunted at that. "We are approaching the end of the Wave-Serpent's passage now. The cold is reaching it's height. Before long, it will be deadly to sleep outside, even with a fire."

"Should we build ours up?" I wondered.

"It won't do any good. There is plenty of wood but it won't burn now."

I looked at him. He seemed a shadow of his former self. As though his entire being had been hollowed out.

"I don't know if I said it before Svein, but I am so sorry for your loss."

He turned to me and grinned. An echo of his former self was in his eyes. "Not your fault Scribbler so don't even try to take the blame onto yourself. I know a little bit about guilt and I know that you are dealing with your fair share of things at the moment. But Ursa died doing what he loved. So did Haakon for that matter. I just don't know how I'm going to tell their wives is all."

"I can help provide for..."

"Don't even think it." He told me. "I know that you're one of the crew now and I'm also dimly aware of just how rich you are. But both of them are proud women and they will not accept charity."

"I didn't think it was charity."

"No, but they will." Svein rubbed his head. "I like you Scribbler, but sometimes... sometimes you are so very continental."

I decided not to comment on that.

"Can I at least offer to take over the watch so that you can get some sleep?"

"No," He told me. "No, I'm not going to sleep tonight. We should all get up soon anyway."

"It's early."

"It is, but it's only going to get colder and we should start moving inland. There's a farm a little way off and we can get horses easily enough."

"How long will it take us to get to Kaer Trolde from here?"

"Couple of days." He told me. "Normally, it would be a bit quicker. But there's no way that we will be able to go quickly and we will need to stop at an inn tonight so that we can be sheltered from the cold."

I nodded. There is a reason why travel isn't really done in the middle of the winter, why I hold up in the family castle, in Oxenfurt, or this year where I will be staying in Angral as a guest of my future wife. Not for the first time since the previous day, the realisation that I was still alive and that I was going to remain that way, at least for a while, struck me between the eyes and I sobbed.

"There is no shame in it." He told me. "There was a moment there, on the Wave-Serpent, when we were charging towards the shore, where it occurred to me that I would never again hear Yngvild scold me for drinking too much. I swear that it was that thought that nearly undid me in the middle of things rather than the thought of dying. And now I will see her and the kids again. It's almost too much to bear as it is."

He swallowed and stared at his feet for a bit.

"Sometimes, I hate being a survivor though." He told me.

"How many children do you have?" I wondered. We hadn't spoken of personal things.

"Four. Little bastards the lot of them." He said it proudly. "Spend most of their days fighting in the muck. Other than my daughter who's going to be a beauty like her mam. You and your woman planning to have kids?"

"I think we'd like to. But there's a certain amount of... she's a vampire and I'm a human. So..."

"Tricky. Definitely tricky."

We watched the light grow a little until we could see the beach. The Wave-Serpent was still visible but she was a shell of her former self, just a few blackened and burnt timbers remaining. There was more wreckage from the Nilfgaardian ships and the dawn displayed a horror show of frozen bodies. Some submerged in the ice, some almost at the verge of pulling themselves out. For some reason, the one that got me the worst was a hand that was reaching out of the water near one of the Nilfgaardian timbers. I couldn't tell if it had been severed during the fighting, or had been resting on something, or whether it had been a sailor that had been trapped as the ice and the water had slowly killed him.

I intentionally didn't look at the red ruin that I had wrought in my rampage. It was frozen now and you could see the ice crystals forming. But I didn't want to think about that.

"It's not something that you need to be ashamed of." Svein told me.

"People keep telling me that." I told him. "Also, how do you know what I'm thinking? Are you a secret mage?"

He grinned. "It's not a great secret Scribbler. You are just really continental and I can see it all over your face." He went serious after that. "But seriously Scribbler. You saved us all down there. Including me, my other brother and my Lord. My wife and children were elsewhere, I grant you, but I would not have met them if it wasn't for Helfdan and without Helfdan, Kar would have been dead in a ditch a long time ago. Me as well probably. So me and the lads owe you one, for saving him if for nothing else. We owe you more than we can say."

"Thank you."

"But you're still not convinced are you?"

I just looked at him.

"Ah Scribbler. Your parents did a real number on you didn't they. Anger isn't bad. Rage isn't bad. And so long as you use it properly in battle then going berserk isn't bad. It's what you do with those things that matters."

"Kerrass says the same thing."

"Wise man that Witcher of yours."

"But I don't like killing." I was alarmed at the tears that I felt in the back of my throat.

"Neither do I." He admitted. "I love the sailing though. I love defeating an enemy and I love the feeling of brotherhood in the shield-wall. I love looking at a battlefield and an enemy force and figuring out how to defeat it. I love forging a group of men into a weapon that my Lord can thrust into the heart of an enemy. If I could do all of that, and not have to kill, then I would throw my axe away in a heartbeat."

"I used to love the journeying." I admitted. "I still do sometimes. I like going to strange places and seeing strange things. I like meeting new people and if you took away all thedeath, loss and violence, I would truly have loved spending this time in the islands. I hate that people have died for me though but I have learned so much here. There is so much to see and admire."

"Do you not enjoy the travelling any more?"

"Not as much. When I used to travel for the sake of travelling, I enjoyed that. There was a peace to that that I liked. But now... That's not what I'm doing anymore."

"You're a good man Scribbler." Svein told me after a while, "for a Continental I mean. I very much doubt that you will have another warp Spasm, you are too... civilised for that. You will avoid it and steer yourself away from it. So I would advise that you do not worry about it. Eat, drink and be merry for today. We are seeing a new dawn and there are enemies to slay and vengeance to be wrought. And for you, a woman to marry."

He grinned and climbed to his feet. "So go and wake up that Witcher of yours and tell him that I said that he snores. It is time we were on our way."

Kerrass was not in a good way. He had drunk a significant portion of his entire potion stock during the previous day and he looked ill. The closest equivalent was that he looked as though he was having a particularly bad hangover. He looked like a kind of greenish grey. That he had bloodshot eyes and dark circles under his eyes was a given but he was also pale and clammy. If he was human, I would be concerned that some of his wounds had become infected, or that he had caught something.

In the end, I woke Ciri up instead and between the two of us we got him sat up and some liquids into him which seemed to help.

We were a slow procession as we moved off that small headland of ground. Cold, tired and in more than a little pain. There was no food and so we just had to do the best we could. Many of the rest of the men seemed to share Svein's knowledge about the fact that there was a farm nearby and there was confidence that we would find food and horses there and that Helfdan's word would be taken for that.

Just before we left, Helfdan came over to talk to me. He was carrying the axe that I had used the previous day with such bloody results.

Helfdan wasn't looking great either. He was pale and tired, same as everyone really, but there was a drawn quality to his face. There was movement in his eyes that were darting around as though they were possessed.

"I had one of the lads clean it last night." He told me. "I don't know what you wanted to do with it but it seemed fitting to me that you should have the chance to decide."

I looked at it. It was a simple, brutal weapon. It looked like a wood-cutter's axe. A simple half-moon of metal that had been wedged into a wooden pole. A handle had been made out of leather straps and a metal pommel placed on the end. The edge was not sharp and I could see many scuff marks and nicks in the blade. I stared at it for what felt like a long time.

Then I moved.

I spun and hurled the filthy thing out to sea. It was not as dramatic a gesture as I would have liked. It did not go out as far as I would have wanted and it landed on ice rather than splashing in water.

I turned back to Helfdan who was watching me with interest.

"It's not a very good axe." I told him.

He nodded his acceptance of that and turned away.

Kerrass clapped me on the shoulder as I joined him

As I say, we were a slow, shambling march. Only Thorvald wasn't wounded but he was no longer a young man and the cold was climbing into his joints and making him uncomfortable. We were slow, painfully slow and even though I was frustrated with the mind-numbing lack of speed, I could barely keep up either.

It was so cold. So very cold that jokes about shivering and shaking became redundant. The air seemed to hurt as it entered the nose or the mouth creating an unpleasant pain in the chest where lungs began to freeze. It was the kind of cold that sticks in your mind and that, in the future, people will comment that it's cold outside and I will say, "It might be cold but it's not as cold as it was in Skellige when the Skeleton Ship passed.

Kerrass and I were almost leaning on each other as we went. Ciri helped where she could, but we were not the worst affected by some margin. Kerrass was stronger but his insides were revelling at all the extra toxins that he was still flushing out of his system. Yes, he had drunk the famous "White Honey" potion that removes the toxic effects of the potions, as a kind of catch-all antidote. But what it doesn't do is actively get rid of the herbs and liquids. Those still need to be expelled from the body in the normal way. White Honey helps, but even that can take a bit of time.

So Kerrass was moving with an odd kind of limp. We've all seen that kind of limp before. I have certainly walked that kind of limp after eating a particularly suspect piece of street food, bathed in what was optimistically called "spicy sauce". Most accurately though, I suspect that it was the same limp that I had walked with back when I was recovering from being poisoned when I was introduced to Ariadne.

It feels wretched and the only thing to do is to laugh at yourself.

I was feeling better as we moved on, the stiffness slowly leaving my limbs with the movement, but it was far from pleasant. That meant that I could feel the injuries all the keener and I hated it. Every waking moment, I hated it.

But as I say, we were not the worst wounded, by any stretch of the imagination and the entire crew was heartsick and impossibly weary with it. Helfdan had put a little fire into our backbones with his eulogy of the Wave-Serpent. But even that fire was sucked away in the face of the morning's cold.

So there was nothing to do other than to force one foot in front of the next and the next and the next and on and on and on.

All the things that we would normally do to pass the time while moving were out of the question. The cold robbed us of voice so we couldn't talk. Singing was even more unlikely and impossible. So all that left us was the slow passage of the road. Even looking out from our hoods was painful as that exposed eyeballs and faces to the cold.

It bears remembering that we had not expected to make it to shore. Also, the fact that a lot of our cold weather gear was lost with the destruction of the Wave-Serpent. So we were wrapped in the rags that we had been able to make out of the clothes of dead men and Nilfgaardian sailors which were not exactly built for warmth.

Our other problem was that we were escorting a prisoner. Some people have suggested that magic is the cure to all ills and they would be right. The mage could have taken us anywhere we wanted to go. He could certainly have cast a spell to keep us all warm as we marched and he could have helped with the healing that still needed to be done. But how could he be trusted?

The previous night, after I had passed out from exhaustion, Ciri had spent some time asking the man a series of questions. I have no idea how successful she was in getting answers and I did not ask. I thought that his continued survival was interesting, but he walked with his hands bound behind him with a gag fashioned from some crude rags stuffed in his mouth with some cloth round to keep the gag in. He was followed and minded by Kar who had grinned evilly while playing with a knife. He told the mage that he was only supposed to keep him alive but that that still left him plenty of opportunities for "play".

The mage went very pale at that and I'm not sure I blame him. Kar was still monstrously upset at the loss of Ursa and his normal, impish humour had a sharper edge to it now that he had lacked before.

I did try again to get Ciri to go ahead of us. As far as we knew, we were out of danger now so there was nothing stopping her from teleporting on ahead and sending rescuers back with warm clothes, hot food and the like but she refused.

"No Freddie. No."

"Why not?" I wanted it to come out a bit angrier with a bit more force behind it but I was tired, stiff and my mind wasn't entirely working properly. I also think that I was more disappointed by the further delay of warm food and clothing.

"When I return to Kaer Trolde," She told me with a hard glitter in her eyes. "It will be to confront enemies and I will do so with my friends at my side. I need to know if those Nilfgaardians that attacked us were just a few ignorant merchants that were trying to capitalise on a way to make money. Or were they the tip of the blade, wielded by a treasonous faction? There is no way of knowing who I will be dealing with as I walk through the door. So I want my friends there."

"Lord Voorhis is trustworthy." I told her. "I think he loves you a little bit."

"He does. But he loves the Empress, not me. I have no doubt that he is loyal. None at all. But loyal people have betrayed me before."

She sighed at a memory and tugged the blanket that she was wrapped in a bit tighter around me.

"I have visions of turning up as I am, asking the whereabouts of Lord Voorhis and being told, "Oh yes he is just through here. Just step this way Imperial Majesty and...NOW. GET HER NOW. STAB HER STAB HER STAB HER." And things will devolve from there."

I suppressed a giggle.

"Plus, I'm kind of looking forward to it." She went on. "Skelligans thrive on drama. Us continental folk tend to prefer more sedate, withdrawn kind of affairs. Grand gestures are only really approved of here and in Toussaint. I want to see that and I think it would be unfair of me to rob Helfdan and the rest of the crew of their thunder. They deserve the drama of their entrance and I am looking forward to seeing it myself."

She was not wrong and I found an answering hunger in myself as well. I too wanted to see Helfdan standing before the courtroom in Kaer Trolde, before the Queen that he loved and declare those people that had left him to die. To tell her what he had done, what we had done.

A grin plastered itself across my face to answer the one that Ciri had on hers.

The warmth of that thought carried me a little further.

I was very conscious of coming back to life in small ways. It was cold, yes, bitterly cold and to say that I was enjoying it would be inaccurate. It's impossible to enjoy being that cold. But the previous day, the previous morning even, I had been preparing myself to die. There is something that comes with that. You have to lock yourself off from the future, closing yourself off from all the things that you would never get to do. I've talked about that recently so I will not go through that again. Instead, I will briefly speak about what it was like to come back to life. It was occurring to me that I would have things to look forward to. The prospect of seeing Ariadne again was still too big a thought to properly process, but instead, it was small things. I could look forward to sleeping in a bed. Having a hot meal. I could look forward, actively looking forward to being warm again.

I was going to see the sunset and and I was going to sleep and I was going to be able to make plans for the future. That was incredibly powerful a realisation. My brain was still shying away from thinking about Ariadne but I was getting there. Knowing that I was going to be there when Helfdan and his men came home was a powerful energiser.

I was cold. I was freezing cold but I was happy and that was something that I never thought I would be again.

It was several hours before we got to the farm. The sun was well up, the air was clear and I thought that I could literally see the cold hanging in the air like small and tiny ice crystals and wondered if I was hallucinating.

It was not an insignificant place where a couple of families kept the place going. It seemed to mostly consist of sheep and other herd animals but that also meant that they had plenty of wool for the making of clothing.

The Matriarch of the place had gathered all the women folk into a room and were taking the artificial winter as an opportunity in order to spin wool and make clothing out of it in order to sell it during the coming winter. Not a bad business proposition really as there would always be a need for it.

They were happy to see us at least. I got the impression that there was some kind of family relationship between someone from the farm and someone from Helfdan's village meaning that his word was accepted when it came to payment. At first I wondered at this before Svein reminded me that the islands are relatively small and that they take great pride in large family trees that stretch back generations. Therefore it would actually be stranger to find a place where Helfdan didn't have some kind of connection to the people there. The admirable bit, and strange bit, was that Helfdan's word was accepted rather than him just assuming that whatever he wanted was his right.

Which technically it was. He could take and then the farmers would be able to complain to their lords who would take it up with Helfdan and on and on. Clan wars have begun that way.

Apparently.

We were outfitted with warm clothes, supplies, medicine and horses easily and then set off at a relatively gentle trot, my body tingling with the returning warmth and circulation. It hurt, yes it hurt. But at the same time, it was a good pain.

Gradually, as we moved away from the farm with warm clothes, warm fingers and toes which is an under-appreciated luxury and with warm food in our bellies, conversation started to pick up. We didn't want to rush the horses for fear that they would struggle in the cold or work up a sweat which would be almost as bad. We had plenty of time and so we could afford to take our time to get where we wanted to go.

Like me, the others were beginning to pull themselves out of the pit of despair that they had been wallowing in over the course of the previous day and conversation was starting to pick up again. A gratifying sight was when Kerrass started to perk up and sit a little straighter on his horse. The food and ale that the farm had provided was a good beginning to the cure but it would seem he was visibly getting better as we went around.

Like Ciri and myself, people were starting to look forward to what was going to happen when we got to Kaer Trolde.

The road was passing further and further inland and the scenery became more and more rocky. Distance from the ocean meant that we were getting warmer and warmer as time went on with the added shelter of the rocks on either side, which sheltered us from a wind that cut us to the bone. It felt good to be back on the road again despite the fact that it felt as though we were moving ridiculously slowly after a long time spent at sea.

We were gossiping. Svein was holding forth on what we were all looking forward to and it was a common theme. Something to do to pass the time and make the miles roll past that little bit swifter.

"I'm looking forward to getting home most of all." He told us in a loud voice so that all could hear it. "Don't get me wrong, I'm looking forward to helping smash Finnvald's face into the floor and then jumping up and down on the rest until all that remains of him is a kind of wet smear that the thralls are going to have to scrape up with a shovel."

"That means that there could be more stomping to do though," Kar put in. "If you can still scrape him up with a shovel then there are still bits of him that are solid. I'm not going to be satisfied until they need a mop to clean him up."

"You obviously have more energy for this kind of thing than I do," Svein told him. "I'm also looking forward to watching Ciri..." Now that Helfdan was calling her by her name the rest of the men cottoned on and were following his example "... do some stomping of her own. And I can't wait to see how that is going to happen. And I can't wait to help her of course. Anything for a shipmate."

There was some dark rumblings of agreement from the other men. Now that we were ship's crew there had been a slow but definite change of everyone's attitudes towards us. I hadn't thought that there was an "us and them" before as everyone had been so friendly and welcoming. But it had been there and now it was gone. The largest measurement of that was that they had no problem of openly mocking us with much cruder language, whereas before, the mocking was much more gentle. But these men would die for us.

And us for them I suspect. Kerrass especially was deeply moved by the adoption.

"But if we really want to talk about what I'm looking forward to. Really, deep down looking forward to. I'm looking forward to seeing my wife's face again. She's going to be so angry with me, it will be amazing. I can almost feel the ringing slap that she's going to deliver to the side of my face now." He said it with a kind of erotic and lustful relish.

"Sounds painful." I commented.

"And it is." Svein agreed. "But she never understands just how attractive I find her in those moments. Couple that with the fact that she often drags me off to our bed chambers and fucks my brains out. Gods but I love that woman."

"I'm going to get drunk." Thorvald told us. "I'm going to wait until the Skeleton Ship has passed and the weather starts to get a bit warmer again. Then I'm going to take several sacks of mead to the shrine and I'm going to drink them all. I'm going to drink and drink until I can't see. Then I'm going to drink some more."

"You'll pay for that," said one of the other men that I hadn't really got to know. His name was Udolf Rosycheeks. He got that nickname because his cheeks go red when he gets embarrassed. Not everyone can be called things like Manbreaker, Hardhand, Boarbiter, The Shining, The Fury and the rest. Some of the nicknames were kind of rude and not really meant for polite conversation.

"Nah," Thorvald responded. "The trick is to keep drinking."

This comment was met with some laughter. The sound deadened by the fact that it had started to snow. The scenery would be quite beautiful if it hadn't been quite so fucking cold.

"What about you Witcher?" Thorvald called. "What are you going to do?"

"My work is not yet done on these islands." Kerrass called. He was still coming back to himself really although the hot food and lighter ale had worked wonders. "I have some other things to do after whatever happens at Kaer Trolde happens. And after that... well... That rather depends on what we learn in Kaer Trolde and after. I would like to see the passing of the Skeleton Ship though. I've never seen it before and depending on what is decided, I might not get another chance."

There was some rumbling about that. These men were sailors and the Skeleton Ship was their enemy. The original terror of the seas and they had unanimously wanted it gone. One of the benefits of sailing with a progressive Captain.

"Come on Ciri." Thorvald spoke up again when it became clear that Kerrass wasn't going to say any more. "Let's keep it going. Talking helps the miles pass the easier. What are you going to do?"

She thought about it for a while. "That largely depends on what happens when I reveal that I survived." She called over her shoulder. She was riding at the head of the column with Helfdan. "It depends on whether this is an Empire wide coup and an attempt to have me killed, or if this is a more localised thing. Also on what our captive friend might have to tell us. But I can't make plans until I know more. I'm kind of half dreading it, half looking forward to the challenge if I'm honest."

She was grinning. Despite everything, she looked so much better than she had when we had first come to Skellige. There was life in her eyes and face again. Something to mention to Lord Voorhis. Was she only really particularly happy when someone was trying to kill her? Or when she had an enemy to face? Sobering thought.

"What about you Scribbler?" Thorvald called. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm afraid that my life aligns a little with Kerrass. We are not yet done with this thing and I too want to see the Skeleton Ship pass. It is a mourning for the dead that I want to take part in as there are many dead people in my life that I want to make my peace with."

There was some nodding. Svein who was riding next to me clapped me on the shoulder.

"Beyond that?" I went on. "I'm afraid that my wants are sickeningly romantic. I'm looking forward to seeing my Fiancée again and talking to her."

There was a chorus of big burly men going "Awwwww,"

"You might want to take a bath first." Kar suggested. "Cos not being funny Scribbler, but you stink."

"You're one to talk," his brother told him.

"I know." Kar agreed contendedly. "I'm foul. But I'm not the one that's going to be meeting a beautiful woman am I?"

"Fair point." Svein agreed.

"A Bath and some more hot food does sound good though." I agreed. "What about you Helfdan? What are you going to do after all this? Other than the new ship I mean. Life is going to be so different for you now what with everyone that has gone and a new ship to build."

I couldn't have got a more unexpected reaction. Literally the very opposite of what I expected.

Helfdan looked at me, his eyes widening as his mouth began to fall open in a look of increasing horror and incredulity.

He looked... He looked as though all the years of experience, strength and authority were stripped away from him in a moment. He looked... This is wrong but it's the closest to how I feel about it. He looked like a terrified child. That sounds really derogatory and I'm sorry because he didn't look like that at all. But it's the closest that I can come to being able to describe what he looked like.

It was the face of a man in the most primal moment of panic, of fear.

"No," he whimpered. "No, no no no no no no no no no no NO NO"

His hands came off the reins of his horse as his voice got higher and louder. He was shaking and twisting in the saddle in an increasing frenzy.

"Shit," muttered Svein. I remember hearing his words distinctly over Helfdan's growing distress.

Then Helfdan's horse, not really a riding horse let alone a Warhorse that is trained to be calm amongst people twisting around in the saddle and shouting, sensed the distress of it's rider and threw him. Helfdan crashing to the floor. He shook his legs free of the stirrups and sprinted off, his fists pressed against the side of his head. He had his eyes closed, scrunched tight like... Dammit, I really hate to use this word... like a child denying the nightmare.

"After him lads." Svein snapped. "Make sure he doesn't hurt himself. Kar, stay with the horses and guard the prisoner. Bring them after.

It was like we were suddenly in a battle. The men reacted exactly the same as if we had been ambushed. I was frozen in shock before Kerrass, who had come off his horse almost as quickly as Svein had yelled at me in an almost hushed voice.

"Come on Freddie."

I tugged my spear off the horse that I was riding and went with Kerrass. I looked for Ciri and she was running with Svein, her face was pale with her mouth in a line of focus and... I think... distress.

We ran after the fleeing man. It was not that hard. He was going quickly but in bursts and not in a straight line. He looked like he was shaking his head in accompaniment to the negatives that floated over the air towards us. Thorvald and Udolf sprinted ahead, trying to get in front of him while Svein and Ciri were on the one side of him, Kerrass and I on the other.

"What is happening Kerrass?" I asked as we waded through the thickening snow-drifts, but Kerrass didn't answer.

We were heading up a rise, gently climbing up towards the summit of a small hill that was covered in trees and loose rocks. I have no idea what was beyond that. Udolf and Thorvald seemed to get there though and look over the edge before turning and yelling. Helfdan heard this and screamed, putting his hands, that were still clenched into fists, over his ears and turned away.

"I don't understand," I said to no-one in particular as Kerrass and I found ourselves in the rear of the formation. Svein looked calm. Worried, but calm and I took my lead from him. Kar was coming up behind us although he didn't seem to be in too much of a rush. He had tied the mage more securely to the back of one of the horses before bundling them all together. Dragging them along with his own horse.

Helfdan was running further into a small collection of trees where he abruptly just seemed to fell over. He was still screaming. He curled his legs up under him and was kneeling down, screaming at the world as though he could force the entirety of existence away with the power of his voice. Then he shuffled, pushing the snow and the other detritus of the trees away from him, the loose branches and the dead leaves and things before he just knelt there and screamed.

Then he stopped. Just like that. Svein made some hand gestures and we started to creep slowly towards Helfdan.

When we got there, Helfdan was kneeling in the middle of the small circle that he had formed of things, with his thrashing about. He had curled into as small a ball as he could, his eyes were scrunched tightly shut and he was breathing heavily, sweat pouring off him.

Svein nodded and beckoned us all over.

"Right lads." He spoke very quietly. Not a whisper but in that tone of voice that adults use after the kids have gone to bed. "You know what to do." The other veterans of the Wave-Serpent started spreading out. They made a show of picking up firewood and picking berries and things. Kar had arrived with the horses now and he spread them out between the road and the small patch of woodland where Helfdan was.

It took a moment to realise what was happening. We were screening Helfdan from the road. And we were doing so silently.

"What do you need us to do?" Kerrass asked Svein while I watched the others do their thing.

"Nothing." Svein told him with a sad smile. "Not that anyone is going to be watching us but you never know. And anyway, this isn't about us at the moment. No, pretend you're the strangers that you are and that you're consulting with me. It would make sense to anyone watching that that is what you are doing."

"Ok. But what are we doing?" I asked turning back to the conversation. "What did I say? What did I do? I am so sorry but I don't know..." I was surprised at myself. I was almost frantic with the worry of the thing. My solid future full of things to look forward to had been wrecked by what I was honestly worried about was a careless word from me. A careless question but at the same time, how could I have possibly known what was going on.

"Hey hey Scribbler," Svein clapped made calming gestures with his hands. "You weren't to know."

Then he looked over at his Lord who was still on his knees. "He gets like this some times. I don't know what else to tell you."

Helfdan screamed again. We all looked over at where Helfdan was frantically brushing some snow of him that had fallen from the canopy of the trees. Because of the suddenness of the cold weather, the trees hadn't shed all their leaves yet which meant that there was still a thick covering of snow over the tops of the forest canopy. Some of it had been shaken loose by the passage of... something. It might have just been the wind, but some snow had been blown onto Helfdan's back and he was frantically trying to brush it off. He looked in pain.

"Shouldn't we help him?" I wondered, taking half a step towards him, half pulling the blanket from round my shoulders to go and wrap him up warm. He had shed his own blankets in his run and fall from his horse and I couldn't help but think that he must be freezing.

But Svein held me back.

"We are helping lad." He told me. "We are helping. We're protecting him from strange eyes. Not that he needs to worry about that but when he comes back to himself, he will be monstrously embarrassed. And that is reduced if we can look him in the eye and tell him that we protected him from that."

"But he must be freezing cold."

"And he is. He will be able to explain it better in a couple of days time but he once told me that when he's in this state, even the softest of silks is like being wrapped in razor-blades and being dragged through wet sand naked. If we wrapped him in a blanket then he would scream as though we were attacking him. He would fight us. He would fight us if we tried to talk to him. He would fight us if we got too close. To be honest, he's doing well not to have ripped his clothes off by now."

"Damn." I said. My heart was aching. He looked to be in so much pain.

"He used to do this when we were children." Ciri spoke up suddenly. Her face looked haunted. "We would be in the middle of some game which, given Helfdan's strangeness, would often devolve into people teasing and mocking him. Then he would throw himself flat and thrash about screaming."

She sighed and rubbed her head with her palm. "We used to laugh at him. I remember it looking so funny but then he just wouldn't stop. We would continue to laugh at him for throwing a childish tantrum and that only seemed to make it worse."

Svein nodded. "He calls it "The price he has to pay"."

Helfdan's screaming subsided as he got rid of the snow and he went back to kneeling and staying still.

"I remember this one time." Ciri took up the story again. "It got so bad, he just wasn't stopping. He just would not stop screaming and thrashing about until it stopped being funny. He was literally hurting himself as he lay there thrashing about. We were worried that he was going to drown in the mud so Hjallmar, Finnvald and a couple of the others tried to restrain him to get him to calm down."

"He will have gotten even more violent." Svein told her.

"He did." Ciri looked over at the tall, older man. "He did exactly that. He broke Finnvald's lip and kicked Hjallmar in the ribs so hard that Hjallmar lost his temper and beat Helfdan badly, until a couple of the others managed to pull him off. Cerys, who had been playing nearby as she was much younger than us." She smirked at herself. "All of a year younger than me but I got into just as much trouble with the older boys which grouped me with them rather then her. I used to think that that made Cerys cowardly but now I would think that she was much more sensible. But anyway. She had run to get the priest that had taken Helfdan in and looked after him."

She shook her head.

"I remember being as angry as Hjallmar that my friend had been beaten by strange little Helfy so that when the Priest turned up, picked Helfdan up, slapped him so hard that Helfdan was literally dazed unconscious. When all of that happened, I honestly felt as though he deserved it for acting like a child. Then the priest took him off to the shrine and whipped him for attacking the son of the Jarl."

Silence fell over all of us for a moment after that.

"Flame." I swore.

"I remember thinking that the priest was right." A small tear ran down Ciri's face at the memory. "We were all sullen with our self-righteousness. I remember being so sure that we were in the right, that we had done nothing wrong."

"You were children." Svein told her, putting an arm round her shoulder and squeezing her in a quick hug. "I don't judge you as I would almost certainly have done the same at your age and at Jarl Hjallmar's age as well. Helfdan certainly doesn't judge you for it."

"He said he hated me."

"Yes he did. But he didn't blame you, or judge you." Svein told her. "He hated the memory of you. He has never been able to disentangle you from that past. That is all. The memory of everything that happened was too much. He hates Hjallmar too, but he doesn't blame him. They even have a good working relationship. The difference being that you have worked to overcome that past. Hjallmar has not." Svein smiled suddenly, "And Hjallmar has no easily applicable nick-name that Helfan can use to distance Hjallmar the man, from Hjallmar the memory. I like Hjallmar. I do. But I suspect that if you challenged him on this, he would still think that he did nothing wrong back then."

"You are probably right." Ciri sighed.

"Is that why Helfdan is so... devoted to the Queen then?" I wondered.

"You mean, is that why he's madly, crazily in love with her?" Svein wondered with a glint of mischief in his eye. "I don't know. Maybe partially. He won't talk about it. It's one of the few subjects that he just won't entertain a discussion on is how he feels about the Queen. Everything else, he will answer questions about. But her? I certainly think it might be a factor."

"I always thought that it was because Cerys is really, really hot." Ciri said.

We laughed, or rather chuckled quietly.

"Only if you like them thin Imperial Majesty." Svein told her. "I like a bit more heft to my woman if you know what I mean. Something to grab onto." His smile faded a little before he spoke again. "There is that and Helfdan is clearly devoted to her but he's also..."

Svein paused while he scratched himself somewhere indelicate.

"He's also a progressive." He went on. "He thinks logically about things and he has no attachment to the older traditions. He can see the utility in being able to read and write so he doesn't see why there is so much shame attached to it. So when Cerys starts coming out with all the things that she wants to change. Helfdan sees that they make sense and agrees. He has no ties to the tradition of the things."

"After all, tradition has only ever hurt him." I was nodding in understanding.

"So the fact that she also showed him some kindness in the past is part of it, but then she goes on to be a good Queen that does and says things that he approves of just makes it even better."

"And she's really really hot." Ciri put in looking as though she was feeling better by the moment.

"That helps. But it does not occur to him to be anything other than loyal and honourable so that helps too. Especially when he sees those qualities reflected back at him."

We all turned and looked down at the quaking man below us.

"So he calls it "The Price"?" I asked. "Why?"

"To get the full answer, you will have to ask him." Svein told me. "But he seems to think that it is the price that he pays for being as good a Ship's Captain as he is. As good at the politics as he is. This is the occasional price he pays."

"And you all love him for it." Kerrass spoke up for the first time. "Because he's different and because he has these difficulties but still manages to be a good Captain and a just Lord."

Svein looked a bit uncomfortable. "Yes. There are many reasons. I told the Scribbler here the story about my being taken off the streets and given a purpose again. That would have guaranteed my devotion. But this... He works so hard. So hard. He fights every day for being even close to what we would call normal. As I've told the Scribbler. I've served some real shits in my time but Helfdan is the first Lord that I have loved. That he would take on this burden, and see it as a burden, willingly in order to be better at what he does. A thing that he does better than anyone else that I have ever seen."

We stood in silence for a while longer.

"When does this sort of thing seem to happen?" I wondered. The silence had become oppressive and I began to feel the need to break it up.

"Damned if I know. He will tell you that it happens when he feels as though he's being overwhelmed. It happens when things are getting too much for him. But that doesn't make sense to me. You saw him when we were sailing. Going into battle against the ice giants. Sailing into the storm against the Nilfgaardians where he sacrificed his ship so that just a few of us would survive. A ship that has defined his existence for longer than I've known him. I've seen him in massive ship battles, huge raids and sailing into storms by feel rather than by sight. But he never goes like this at sea.

"I've seen him standing with the Queen with his body between her and potential danger. I've seen him calmly offering advice when everyone else is screaming, shouting and drawing weapons. I've seen him react to violence without a thought. All things that I would think are overwhelming. And he just rolls them off like they don't matter. Then suddenly, someone will crack a joke, or ask him a question," he gestured at me, "or otherwise do something else and he goes to pieces. He struggles with trade. There's a reason why I run and organise the land battles. Because he can't cope and he gets overwhelmed and then... this happens."

He shrugged. "It happened once with a woman. It had been a while since he'd gotten laid and so we saw to the matter. He's no virgin and has been with women before and since. But one night he started losing his shit."

He shrugged. "I can't find a pattern to it and I've given up looking. He also says that he can sometimes head it off. If he feels as though he's getting overwhelmed then he can find some solitude and calm down. That's what his hut is for in the woods near our village."

"But when this happens and he can't keep on top of it?" He shrugged. "All I know is that he gets upset and will then flee to a place where he feels safe, or at least safer than he had. During which even small noises feel as though he is being screamed at it from all sides. Even the lightest touch feels as though he's being punched in the face. The wind feels like a knife blade against the skin which is why I think he fled to the shelter of the trees. He's struggling to get away and to calm down. He'll come out of it eventually, and he'll be a bit vacant and oddly relaxed afterwards. Much more laid back and tightly wound at the same time. He once told me that the aftermath of one of these is actually quite pleasant. When he's in the most control of himself."

"He's purged his system." Kerrass put in. "Like flushing your system of all the toxins. When you're body's enjoying getting used to having no shit in your veins." He nodded. "I can relate to that. I find it kind of..."

"Svein," Helfdan called quietly.

It was time for even more defiance of expectations. Svein did not rush down to the kneeling form of his lord where that lord was shivering in the snow. He did not call for blankets or the horses. Instead, he calmly and slowly walked towards Helfdan, thumbs tucked into his belt.

Helfdan himself was still kneeling in the dirt. He had his hands flat on his knees as he knelt, sitting on the backs of his feet. He still had his eyes closed though but he seemed calmer, there was no force trying to keep those same eyes closed, They were just closed, like a man waiting to drift off to sleep.

Svein moved so that he was in Helfdan's eye line, waving Ciri and I back as we both went to follow.

"I am here Helfdan." Svein said softly, surprising me again. It was rare that I ever heard Svein call Helfdan anything other than "Lord" or "My Lord." or "Captain" when on the ship.

"Where am I?" Helfdan asked in a quiet voice.

Svein waited a few moments before he spoke up. He was nodding according to his own rhythm and I wondered if he was waiting for something that I could not see. Some kind of visual clue that was hidden from us.

"You are just off the road." Svein told his Lord. I noticed that he didn't say "we" or "The group," or any other kind of pluralisation. "You are just inside a small group of trees a few minutes walk off the road between Holmstein and Kaer Trolde. About a day south of Kaer Trolde itself."

Helfdan nodded and seemed to need a few moments to take that in.

"You are freezing." Svein told him gently. "May I have someone bring you a blanket at least?"

Helfdan considered this for a long moment. A very long moment to someone who was gripping the sides of his own cloak and pulling it tightly around himself. "A soft one." He said after a long while. His voice sounded like that of a child.

Svein nodded and gestured. "Thorvald is going to bring you your cloak and a blanket. So that's who the next footsteps that you hear will belong to. He is walking through snow which is what the crunching noise is."

Helfdan nodded at that.

Thorvald, like Svein, moved down towards Helfdan without rushing. He didn't take his time but nor did he rush. He also didn't wrap Helfdan up himself, instead he handed the cloak and blanket to Svein who wrapped his Lord up in the garments. Helfdan flinched at every noise.

"So I'm going to put this cloak on you now Helfdan, just wrapping it round your shoulders like this. Then I'm going to tug the hood up and then I'm going to wrap the blanket round you." He kept up a small commentary of actions and movements. Just small things as he moved and talked. Then he returned to a crouching position near Helfdan but in his line of sight as he went back to waiting for Helfdan to recover.

"I had no idea," whispered Ciri. "No idea at all."

"No-one ever does." Kerrass told her. He seemed deeply moved by the entire situation and as he looked down at the stricken Helfdan, he had an expression of almost reverence on his face and an utmost respect. I was surprised. There are men that Kerrass respects but this was something else. He has no problem at all acknowledging those people whose skills and abilities are different to his own. He has no problem deferring to me when it comes to matters of Courtly intrigue, commerce or politics. Nor does he have a problem when deferring to people like Shani when it comes to matters of healing or Rickard when it comes to military tactics and strategy.

He defends his own areas of expertise fiercely and disdains anyone who tries to tell him how he should be doing his job and as a result, he likes to pay others the same courtesy and respect. But this looked closer to admiration.

Helfdan spoke again. He seemed to take a deep breath.

"What do we do next?" He asked Svein.

I gave up my own expectations then. I had been wrong so often in these moments. It was clear that whatever was going to be said by Svein was not what was going to happen. You can all imagine what might be said. Maybe it would be something about heading to Kaer Trolde to take our vengeance against those that had wronged us. Maybe it would be something about having a new ship built or going back to Helfdan's old village for some rest or something else.

"We are going to get you on your horse again." Svein told him. No reasons or explanations as to why we might be doing this thing or that thing. Just a plain old statement of fact. He spoke clearly and carefully, choosing each word individually and not leaving anything out. "Then we are going to set off at a gentle walk, continuing on our way towards Kaer Trolde which was our original destination..."

As though Helfdan might have forgotten, I noticed.

"In a few hours we will come to the inn of the Queen's head which you always enjoy. We will get you a bath and something to eat which will probably be some of that roast boar in honey and rosemary that you normally like. Then we will get you packed off to bed in the attic room that you prefer so that you can hear the wind. If you feel the need, you know that Gyrd is very fond of you and will come and keep your bed warm for you at the least. Even to just hold you and keep you warm during the night."

Helfdan nodded again when it was clear that Svein had finished talking.

There was another long pause. Snow had started to fall again and it was as though the world had come to a halt while we all waited for a Lord of men to come back to himself.

Helfdan nodded and opened his eyes.

He flinched at first despite the relatively subdued light underneath the trees but gradually he forced his eyes open again. Then he nodded and held out a hand so that Svein could help him back to his feet. He wobbled at first but found his balance relatively quickly.

Ciri went to embrace him. But Svein waved her back again as Helfdan tottered out to where the horses were waiting. Svein followed close behind, hands out and ready to catch should the lord stagger.

Kar was waiting carefully with the other horses and our captive. Svein provided a boost but it was as though Helfdan had lost a lot of his former coordination and it still took a couple of attempts to get him back in the saddle. When he was there though, Svein and Kar fussed over him a little to make sure he was secure. They had to tuck his feet into the stirrups and arrange his weapons around himself. I did wonder why they didn't take the sword belt off him until Kerrass pointed out that the sense of familiar weight might help.

Another blanket was produced and wrapped around the now properly shivering Helfdan, the lead rope for his horse was passed to Svein and we all set off again. Back on the road.

We were a subdued group at first, riding in silence and it was Svein that forced the break in the silence. He cracked a joke of some kind. A nice gentle one about horses I think, the most basic of basic humours and people started to laugh. The cloud that had fallen over the group started to lift and we were riding along in fairly good humour.

But I couldn't take my eyes off the Lord that was no longer at the head of the column.

As Svein had said, we came to an inn and Svein told us that we were stopping there for the night. It was still early though and I did wonder if this was a problem.

"Truth is that we were probably going to have to stop here anyway." Svein told me. "We might have made it to the next inn down the road but that could have gone either way if we're being honest with each other." It means that we'll have a tough day tomorrow as there aren't any inns on the approach to Kaer Trolde, so one way or another, we have to make it to Kaer Trolde tonight. If we try to spend another night outside then we'll freeze to death. Not how I want this to end."

"I have to ask though..." I began.

"I want to get him inside." Svein said. "He'll be alright but he needs the familiar around him now. Simple food that he's had before. Plain drink and a nice woman to keep him warm. He'll probably wake us all up in the morning but for now..." He sucked his teeth as he thought about how to proceed. "You're a travelling man Scribbler. You know what it's like, you get to the end of a journey where you've been in strange parts and taking part in strange customs. You've been eating strange food and sleeping in fancy beds. Sooner or later you just want some simple food, a simple bed and a mug of ale don't you."

The question was rhetorical but I answered it anyway. "I do."

"Or even better than that. You've been making loads of really complex and tricky decisions with moral consequences and then, sooner or later, you just want a nice simple fight where that guy is the bad guy and you get to smash him in his stupid face."

"I certainly know how that feels." I admitted.

"It's like that only, if anything, more extreme. He's had enough. He's just had enough. He wants us to take over and make his decisions for him. Just for a bit, no more than a day usually. But just for a bit, he doesn't want to be in charge. He wants to be looked after."

He stomped off to hammer on the door to the inn. The innkeeper had clearly barricaded themselves into the building to help keep the warm inside. There was much grumbling and swearing as boards were levered off the doors and things were moved away. But then the door opened and the innkeeper saw who it was then all seemed alright.

Horses were seen to and kept inside the barn where they were warm and dry, captive was dumped in the corner where one of the innkeeper's sons watched him with a nasty looking meat cleaver. We rubbed the horses down, wrapped them up and made sure that they were well fed before we saw to our own needs.

Then, mercifully, we all came indoors.

After the fashion of Skelligan inns there was a large fire pit in the middle of the room that was being used to roast the meat. The inn seemed to be a family run business by the father, mother, Aunt and a number of sons and daughters. There was a bathhouse out the back of the building and when we all got back inside, Helfdan was already being taken care of out there and Svein told us to leave him to it for a while.

I didn't complain. There was hot food and mulled wine to warm even the most frigid parts of my body. After a while, Helfdan came back into the room looking much closer to his own self. He was dressed in a simple shirt and plain pair of trousers and went barefoot where he was placed at a clean table towards the back of the room.

He was attended by one of the elder daughters, a tall strong looking woman who seemed to carry her own sadness with her in some way that I could not define. She fed him, fetched him drinks and saw to his needs. On those times when he looked as though he might be getting a little distressed, she wrapped her arms round him gently. Somewhere between what a mother might do and what a lover might offer to a person in distress.

"He's embarrassed." Svein explained. "He hates this part of himself and resents the time that it takes to recover from this kind of thing. He wants to bounce back to his feet and get on with things."

"But that's impossible." Kerrass was nodding. Svein was sat with Ciri, Kerrass and I as he seemed to feel a need to explain everything to us.

Svein grunted in agreement to what Kerrass said. "In all truth, he's still coming back to himself a bit. And he's assailed by all the memories of all the past times that this has happened to him and all the problems that it's caused. That's why he's getting upset.

"Who's the girl?" Ciri asked.

"That's Gyrd." Svein told us. "For reasons that I've never understood, he finds her comforting in some way. When he gets like this there are a couple of people about who just seem to be able to calm him down and make him feel safe. But she's like the cooling salve on burned flesh to him. In every way that everything and everyone else is abrasive and painful to him right now, she is calming, soothing and loving. I don't know why. Sometimes they love each other, sometimes they just sit and hold each other. Or sit and talk."

"Who is she? What's her story?" Ciri asked again.

"She's a daughter of the place. I always got the feeling that she was a little lost herself. Helfdan was already fond of her when I met him and I often thought that she was his first lover, or first love. I always suspected that she was trying to get him to marry her until one day, she herself told me to stop worrying about it so I think the truth is more complicated than that. I think that there is love there but not... there is love but no passion. Friendship with affection. But she heals him in some way that I don't really understand."

"I get it." I told him. I was remembering the time after Amber's Crossing when I had been so ill. Specifically I was thinking of the unnamed Blonde woman who came to me in the cold light of dawn and healed my soul with gentle gasps and soft moans. How she reminded me how to live my life and what joy could still be felt in the world.

I lowered my head in the memory.

I missed Ariadne.

Helfdan retired early, Gyrd taking him by the hand and leading him up the stairs towards the back of the inn.

The rest of us stayed up late. Not really that late but because of the artificial drop in temperatures for the time of year, it felt like we stayed up a lot longer than we should have. But there was a reluctance for us to go to our beds. Ciri was given a cot where she shared a room with some of the other women that worked at the inn while the rest of us took what rooms that we could, or just found a patch of ground that looked vaguely comfortable and slept on that instead.

It might sound rough and ready but the truth was that the warmth seeped into our bodies and our souls so that we could almost feel our bodies relaxing. And I for one was enjoying that feeling. Looking back, I almost think of it like some kind of extension of our coming back to life after being so sure that we were all going to die. The slow, creeping realisation that death was no longer certain to happen in the next few moments, so we could take our time, savour the flavours of the food and the drink and enjoy the company of friends without the overwhelming pressure of knowing that this might be the last meal that I got the chance to eat, or the last time that I would ever get the chance to spend some time with these men.

Kerrass and the others felt much the same way. Kerrass spent some time discussing what was going to be traditional for what would happen should a member of the ship's crew get married. Ciri wasn't interested as she was going to be part of whatever bridal party that Ariadne put together and as a result, didn't really want to discuss what was happening with whatever it was that Kerrass had in mind for me. But the impression that I got was that there would be so much alcohol floating around that my "stag" party would probably need to be organised to take place a good month before the wedding itself in order to ensure that all participants would be able to recover in time for the ceremony.

Whatever else would happen. It was decided that the men of the Wave-Serpent would be part of my personal honour guard when it came to the wedding. I did try to talk about Sir Rickard and the surviving bastards and what they would want to do but Svein shrugged and told me that they would be welcome too. Even though Svein couldn't read, I got the impression that he was well aware as to who Sir Rickard was and that there was some kind of respect going on there. I didn't go into it.

Mostly though, it was a time where the men could enjoy themselves at my expense. We couldn't set anything in stone, not least because Helfdan would need to be involved in anything that was decided but also because it was almost certain that Queen Cerys would be invited to the wedding in some way and we were unsure how that would affect things.

But Kerrass, Svein and Thorvald seemed to spend an awfully long time sat in the corner of the inn, cackling with each other over whatever they had in mind.

I spent most of that evening enjoying the fact that I could breathe in and out. I had also been assailed by a strange sense of guilt at the memory of what had happened. I remembered the people that had died and wondered how I had managed to survive and they had died. But also, it had not occurred to me before that I should feel guilty over the woman that had completed my healing all that time ago. But now I regretted not taking the time to, at least, learn her name. Seeing the early winter sun reflected off her skin is one of those memories of my early travels that I hold close to my heart. In my most introspective moments, I wonder if I would be who I am today if she hadn't intervened in my recovery.

So I spent a lot of time staring into the hearth fire watching the flames dance. My body was tired. I was tired and I knew that what I should be doing was going to sleep. We would be arriving at Kaer Trolde at some time tomorrow and I had the sinking sensation that I would need my wits about me when that happened. But I didn't want to sleep. I wanted to enjoy that most strange of sensations. Being warm and dry.

Eventually though, I could no longer keep my eyes open and I went to sleep on a nearby bench. I wasn't the last person to go to sleep, but I was far from the first. Kerrass and Svein stayed up long into the night.

We rose slowly. Not just in individuals but as a whole, we were awake early but there is a large difference between being awake and actually being useful.

I know that I, for one, didn't want to be pulled out of my blankets. The sheer luxury of being warm and not waking up cold was something that I decided that I could get used to. Not for the first time, I decided that when this was all over, I would go home, hang my spear up above the castle hearth and not move again until it was time to get married. I knew that I would never do that. That I was a long way away from being able to do precisely that, but right then and there...

I climbed to my feet and the innkeeper and his wife produced water that we used to clean ourselves up. Food was brought, hot drinks were made and we started to get ready for the last stages of our journey.

It was another psychological thing. I was well aware that the journey wasn't over. After Kaer Trolde and telling the assembly there what we knew, it would almost certainly involve a horse ride to the druid's sanctuary and back again at the very least. But it felt like something was coming to an end.

Helfdan came down eventually. He looked... a little strange. To all intents and purposes he was himself again. Dressed as he ever was on those occasions when we had been on land. He was maybe dressed a little warmer than he had been but that was the only real difference. He had the same attitudes about himself, he moved in the same way, the slightly spread stance with the rolling kind of walk that betrays a sailor to anyone who knows what to look for.

What was different was that he seemed a little... relaxed... No that isn't quite the right word.

Ok, this is another of those explanations that might take a while in order to get it entirely right.

Everyone has a friend who is wound tight. Maybe a little bit too tight for their own good. Those of us that know this person might say things like "That person needs to get laid" or a much cruder variation on that. Or we might say, "That person needs a good stiff drink," or "He needs a holiday," or variations on that theme. Someone who looks as though they're all... tight, clenched up like a fist. Those people that live for their jobs often get like this. When they can't possibly see their way free of doing their job and have forgotten how to live their lives away from the job itself.

Apparently, I used to get like that in the lead up to big examinations and the final submission of my thesis. Over the weeks and months leading up to the thing, people would be getting worried about my health, telling me that I needed to take a break. But even when I went to the pub or to the theatre or took part in any of the other social activities that my friends would organise, I would still be thinking about the revision that I would be taking part in. I would still be tweaking my thesis in my head and as such I would not be able to relax.

Then there comes a moment after the exam or crisis has passed where you're still pinwheeling. Where you don't know what to do other than to keep revising, keep studying, even though the exam is long past and you know that you have succeeded in what you have to do.

Then you stop.

I am also reminded, now that I sit here writing this all up. That after I had my heart to heart with Kerrass underneath a rock in the North of Redania. There was a day or two where I felt kind of empty. Hollowed out would be another term. Where I felt that rest was that little bit easier and I could feel all the tension slowly draining out of my body. Where my brain was well aware of everything that had happened to it and it was just the body that needed to come to terms with everything that had happened.

I wonder if that was what it was like for Helfdan. I have no way of checking and I doubt that there is a common frame of reference.

Svein had another theory. He theorised that Helfdan was like a cup. That the world was constantly trying to fill the cup with water and that Helfdan himself was constantly trying to drink the water from the cup. Some circumstances meant that the water was poured quicker and helfdan was better able to drink. Other times, the water came quicker and Helfdan would be left almost drowning. But when one of these "incidents" or "bouts of illness" were upon him. Then the cup became empty...

He described it as though Helfdan had hurled the cup against the wall in a fit of rage. Again, blame him not me.

…. and for a while there, Helfdan didn't need to worry about having to drink the water. He could take the time to relax and look about himself.

I have no idea whether or not this was how Helfdan felt about the entire situation as I never asked him. It struck me as rude in some way although again, looking back, I had no problems asking questions of Svein on the subect. But that was what he looked like when he came downstairs that morning. He was like a man who had been too wound up for too long and had gone out and gotten drunk. Or had told his boss or master to shove it up their ass and is now wandering around in a daze.

He was a little quicker to smile at a jest. Those smiles were a little broader. He seemed a little more emotional to my eyes even though I can't really say that one way or the other.

He looked good with it.

We didn't want to leave that inn. The short time that we were there was a break from the rest of the world. As though it was a small holiday. A little pocket realm where the rest of the world was kept away from us and the problems that we were up against seemed a long way away, small and petty.

But we went out, mounted up with some fresh supplies and the best wishes of the innkeeper and his wife. Both of whom gave Helfdan a hug as he mounted up and led us away.

Gyrd was nowhere to be seen. Again, the similarities between Gyrd and that unnamed blonde struck me. The Blonde had also not come to see me off when I left that city behind to resume my travels with Kerrass.

There is a lesson there somewhere and I have no idea what it could be.

We rode north. We had started late but Svein told us that there was nowhere to spend the night between where we were and Kaer Trolde so it would be dark and bitterly cold before we came to the keep. Helfdan spent that morning talking to Ciri, Svein and myself. He seemed to want reminding of everything that had happened over the past few days as well as some strategy and thinking for when we would finally get there.

It was almost as though he was reminding himself as to what was going on.

We rode but we could not keep up too fast a pace. A night's rest in the warmth with hot food and proper clothing had done us a powerful good but the cure was not yet complete, nor would it be for some time, maybe not ever. So we went on, not as fast as we would have wanted, but faster than was probably entirely clever. The weather was a factor as well. Even though it had seemed impossible that such a thing could be managed, it actively got colder. And just when we thought it couldn't get any colder, it seemed to get colder again.

As I think I've mentioned before, to get to Kaer Trolde you have to ride through a series of gorges to get to the gate of the town. These gorges are formed with huge, towering cliff faces on either side. All of which were becoming cold and icy in their appearance, but those gorges created another problem. That problem being that they created wind tunnels. These tunnels would conspire into making sure that the wind could be blowing at us from what felt like all directions. And the wind brought the snow and the ice with it.

There is a myth, when people talk about cold weather, they say things along the lines of "It's too cold for snow to fall." This is a myth. It is wrong. It is not too cold for snow to fall. What you are missing is that sometimes, snow brings ice with it. Not freezing rain. But literally falling ice.

I don't know if this was a side effect of the Skelligan isles when the Skeleton Ship is passing. But I do know that that snow was being blown into our faces and it was freezing cold. The pleasure of the previous evening was long behind us, conversation was impossible as we moved through those towers of rock and ice and we became our own little bubbles of warmth and misery. I knew it was bad when we all had to be tied together so that we couldn't get lost in the middle of the blizzard. Looking back, I don't think that there was really much danger of that, but the trick is to ensure that you don't leave it too late before tying yourself together with each other and it was certainly getting close to that same temperature.

In the future, when it gets cold, I will say "It's cold. But not as cold as the night we came to Kaer Trolde."

We almost fell over the town. Suddenly, the wooden wall loomed out of the darkness and we found ourselves in a small cocoon of silence and warmth where we were sheltered from the wind and the snow. I was not the only one that needed to be revived from my stupor of cold determination and the illusion of warmth that I fed myself with.

It was like waking up from a deep sleep. It has been said that we were close to freezing to death and maybe that is true. But all I can say is that. It was like I was being woken up from a pleasant dream and emerging into the cold and unpleasant light of day.

The gate to Kaer Trolde was shut.

It was one of those moments that kind of jerk you back to awareness of what's going on around you. It was that moment where you come back down to the ground with a thump and it all seemed to come rushing back. Everything that we had fought for and worked for and it was coming down to this moment and the gate was shut.

I actively laughed.

Helfdan sighed and gestured. He had not lost his almost relaxed sense of life. Out of all of us, barring Kerrass, I think he was the least affected by the cold.

Svein saw the gesture, dismounted and walked to the gate before hammering on it with his fist. Then he waited for a while before hammering on it again.

Then he kicked it.

Then he struck it again with his other fist.

Torchlight appeared moving down the wall from where I knew the guardpost was between the gate and the tunnel. A small head appeared and looked over the edge of the wall.

"Ummmm," the voice betrayed the guards early state of adulthood. Halfway between the voice of a child and the cracking deep voice that he had yet to grow into. "Who goes there?"

I remember that period of my life. It was a time of much unhappiness for me.

"Lord Helfdan of Clan an Craite and..." Svein checked with Ciri who made a negative gesture. "... and his crew."

The lad laughed. "Lord Helfdan is dead. Begone." He made an expressively arrogant gesture of dismissal.

"I am not dead." Helfdan called. "I feel sure that I would have noticed dying. Just as I notice that you are far too young to be left in command of the gates of Kaer Trolde at your age. So go and fetch your commander from the fire bowl next to which he warms his hands."

"But..."

"I have eight, very cold, very angry people out here." Helfdan told him. "And if anyone passes the word of my presence to anyone else then I'm going to blame you. You will find my rage rather unpleasant. I will count to twenty."

"But Lord Helfdan is..." Some instinct in the young man caused his mouth to snap shut and his legs to start moving. We heard footsteps running off.

Helfdan turned to the rest of us. "Well, that went about as well as could be expected." He was smiling. Helfdan, a man that smiles as little as Kerrass does. It was oddly off-putting and sent a shiver down my spine.

"Ready weapons." Helfdan said quietly. "Don't draw them yet. But be ready with them."

There was a general shifting of weight.

"We're not really going to attack Kaer Trolde are we?" I muttered to Kerrass and Ciri. "Surely..."

"Right now, I would not be surprised." Ciri told me. She was grinning nastily. "And I would help him."

I considered what she said and realised that I was just as ready as she seemed to be.

More torchlight appeared at the top of the walls.

"Who goes there?" A much more experienced voice shouted down.

Svein audibly groaned. "You know damn well who we are Grimar. You certainly know damn well who I am and who I serve. Open the damn gate."

"You are dead." The voice said in wonder. "Are you the spirits of the dead come back to announce..."

"Throw down a damn torch and you can see for yourself." Svein called up. "We're as real as we get and we are getting angrier by the heartbeat.

Ciri tugged her hood around herself a little closer.

A torch was thrown down which Svein caught, his hand snapping forward to do so. Helfdan pulled his hood back and Svein reached over with the torch that guttered and sputtered in the cold.

"My Lord," The man on the wall shouted. "We thought... But..."

"Open the gate." Helfdan said calmly.

"But that's what I'm trying to tell you my lord. The Gate is frozen shut. We will have to throw down ropes so that..."

"We are victims of treachery." Helfdan snapped. "We have been betrayed by friends and allies. We are not climbing rope so that we can be killed as we reach the top."

"My Lord... I swear that..."

"You will open the gate." Helfdan snarled. "I know, as well as you do that there are hammers next to the gate for precisely this reason. Open the gate."

"How dare you." The man shouted down. "How dare you suggest that I would betray and murder you as you..."

"I know who you are and I know who you serve." Helfdan snarled. Again showing more emotion in those words than he had through the entirety of our time together. "I am Lord Helfdan and I will doubt who I wish to doubt until the Queen tells me other wise. Open the gate or I will have one of my people do it for you. Then you can be the one who must explain to the Queen, and Jarl Hjallmar as to why his gate has been destroyed."

"We are ordered to keep the gate shut."

"By whom I wonder." Helfdan shook his head. "Very well. Kerrass?"

Kerrass dismounted and moved towards the gate like a man with a purpose. He prominently adjusted the straps that held his sword in place on his back and that glinted in the torchlight. He stood before the offending gate, carefully adjusted his stance so that he could strike a suitably dramatic pose.

Then he stopped and turned back to us. "You had better stand back." He said to us although I noticed that his voice carried to the men on top of the wall. "There might be some flying wood after I destroy the gate."

"Magic," came a shout from the wall. I thought it was the younger voice that we had heard earlier.

"Wait." Called the other voice. "Wait, if you have patience then we will see what can be done."

Helfdan nodded. "I am low in patience." He said. "I am cold. But I am also reluctant to breach the gates that my ancestors erected in honour. So I will wait. But I would also suggest that you employ all your men to opening the gate. If one were to sneak off to warn anyone about our arrival then I would be... displeased."

"Are you threatening me?" The tone of forced outrage was almost comical. It would have been if I hadn't been freezing my balls off.

"Yes." Helfdan answered calmly before going on to ignore any further splutterings of indignation.

So we waited. There was shouting and sounds of movement followed by several loud thumps and something that sounded, not entirely unlike breaking glass.

So it was that Helfdan re-entered the city of Kaer Trolde. He did not storm the gates. Nor did he gather a rebellion or anything quite so dramatic and ostentatious according to some of the things that I have since heard said. We dismounted and walked in. We were cold and tired and grumpy.

We led our horses in and turned to go up the stairs to along the top of the wall where we moved in towards the guard post. The man, Grimar, stared at us open mouthed as Svein stood there grinning at him, Helfdan next to him.

"Are you satisfied now Grimar?" Helfdan wondered. "Do you have any more doubts that I might not be who I say I am? Also, I notice that it did not take you too long to "unfreeze" the gate and get it open to admit us into the warm embrace of our clan holdings."

"But..."

"Mmmm," Helfdan's eyes narrowed into a flat, unfriendly gaze. "Now where is the boy that first greeted me I wonder? Who was he? Someone's son? A least favourite child sent out into the cold so that you could stay nice and warm beside the fire. I well remember what it was like to be the unpopular person set to guarding the gate at the time of the Skeleton Ship."

There was a slow rage in Helfdan's voice. An old anger that had been kindled. I shivered again as the certainty that there would be blood spilled this night.

"What have you summoned?" Helfdan asked him. "What message have you sent?"

"I... I do not answer to you." Grimar seemed to find some of his courage.

"No." Helfdan acknowledged. "No you do not. But I am a Lord and a Huscarl. My word supersedes yours and I gave you an order."

Death was in that place.

"Helfdan?" an older voice called as pair of horsemen came down the tunnel. "Freya's tits boy but it really is you?"

An old warrior with white hair and a long white beard came off the horse and walked over to where we all stood.

"Gods boy but you're a sight for sore eyes. When this little tyke was caught abandoning his post," the boy that we had spoken to earlier was tugged forwards by one of the other riders, "I just had to catch him and find out what this was all about before I hang him."

"But I was ordered to..."

"Do not listen to him." Grimar protested. "I gave no such orders. He snuck off when..."

"Oh shut up Grimar. I grow weary of your lies." The old man said before coming over to Helfdan. "Gods boy but it's good to see you."

"And you Lord Gudavsson." The two men embraced. Much to my astonishment.

"Who's that?" I muttered to Svein.

"Lord Gudavsson was Helfdan's original Lord's younger brother. Uncle to Dreng." Svein whispered. "He left home when there was no land to be had and signed onto Clan An Craite's standing guard and is now one of the Lords of the Watch. He's Helfdan's equivalent in rank but with no land and his position cannot be passed on to his children. You have to earn a place in the guard." He replied. "No, I don't know why Helfdan lets himself be hugged by him and no-one else either."

Lord Gudavsson was taking command of the situation. "In future lad," he was saying to the younger man who was being clapped in irons. "Do not try to sneak past old soldiers who have forgotten more about guarding fortresses than you will ever know." Then he turned to Grimar. "Grimar, you are under arrest on my authority until Lord Hjallmar has time to judge this matter."

Grimar protested, because of course he did. Gudavssson was unmoved as he turned to one of the other horsemen that had followed him down the great tunnel of Kaer Trolde and ordered him to take command of the gate.

"Now then Lord Helfdan." Gudavsson might have given just a little emphasis on the title. "What's all this about? You've been dead for several days."

Helfdan considered this. I noticed that he was still calculating despite his obvious trust and liking of the newcomer. Then he spoke. "With all respect Lord Gudavsson, I am tired and would wish to tell this story as few times as possible. My men have travelled far and have been through much hardship and I would get them inside where it is warm. May I ask what our reception is likely to be?"

"Ummm, astonishment I should think. Do you have...?"

"I will answer to the Queen on that matter I think." Helfdan interrupted.

Gudavsson frowned, his own eyes narrowing. "Very well. Then I shall come with you in order to prevent any other unpleasantness."

"Are we under guard or under escort?" Helfdan asked.

"Escort I think, no-one has told me not to." Gudavsson told him.

"What is happening up at the keep at the moment my Lord?" Svein asked as we started moving up the hill.

"Oh," Gudavsson grinned suddenly. "Lord Finnvald is telling the story of how you became ambitious and got the Empress of Nilfgaard killed in charging into foolish battle against the Frost Giants. About how your negligence and stupidity got your men killed and about how you betrayed everything in an effort to make your name. It's a good story and he tells it well."

"That's interesting." Svein said to no-one in particular.

"Brought a tear to my eye." Gudavsson declared happily. "Especially the way he tells about how reluctant he was to leave you there but had to escape to save his men and bring word of your betrayal back to the Queen and the Jarl. As well as your negligence in getting the Empress of Nilfgaard killed."

Helfdan considered all of this before abruptly climbing back on his horse.

"I think I would like to hear this story being told." he decided.

"Oh goody." Gudavsson said, sighing contendedly and climbing aboard his own horse. "Life is always so dull when you are away from court."

We rode up the tunnel, keeping the horses fairly close together. I got the general sense that word of our coming was being passed between the guards that lined the sides of the tunnel and that there was a growing sense of excitement. We emerged out onto the bridge that carried us over towards the keep and the wind was bitter enough that we had to dismount and take our shelter behind the bulks of our horses. Luckily, there is a small wall on either side of the bridge to stop us from falling over otherwise I honestly believe that there would have been a few less people accompanying Helfdan into the royal hall.

Including myself. It is a long way down to the harbour below and I wonder if I would have time to realise what was happening, and to come to terms with it before my body was splattered all over the harbour.

The torment was not long though and we made it into the castle courtyard.

I was not imagining the excitement in the other guards now. Grinning men came to take our horses and other men were seen clustered with each other and could be heard muttering.

"This is going to be so much fun." Gudavsson was all but rubbing his hands together in glee.

"I don't understand." I said aloud. Kerrass once joked that he would have the words "I don't understand," inscribed on my headstone. It would be fitting.

"What don't you understand?" Helfdan turned to me with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, Finnvald is part of Clan An Craite isn't he?"

"He is." Helfdan replied.

"Then surely this is a brewing conflict within the clan. And some of these men will have a vested interest in warning Finnvald of our arrival."

"And some of them have already tried." Gudavsson stepped forward. "Including Grimar on the gate.

Unfortunately, that might mean that I have to hang that lad for deserting his post.

I sighed as I realised what I was about to say. "I don't understand."

Gudavsson raised his eyebrows. "Grimar's word supersedes the child. Unless someone comes forward to declare that Grimar is lying in saying that he didn't order the child to warn Finnvald of your arrival then it is the word of the child against the word of Grimar. Grimar, who is a proven veteran and warrior. So the child hangs."

"Is there no way to intercede on his behalf." I was appalled.

"There is." Helfdan said. "But it all depends on what happens next."

"But that doesn't explain why more people are not trying to gain favour with Finnvald by warning him of our arrival."

"Two things." Gudavsson said. "The first is that this is not the first time that Finnvald has told this story to much sadness, wailing and gnashing of teeth. The men out here are mostly men, like me, who do not like, or do not believe the story. Men who have fallen afoul of Finnvald's ambitions before. So we are all looking forward to watching Finnvald being taken down a peg or two."

"And the other thing?"

"Skelligans love the drama." Helfdan responded for Gudavsson who nodded. "Make no mistake Scribbler. What happens next is going to be sung about for years to come." Helfdan turned back to Gudavsson. "Can you get is into the back of the hall, quiet like?"

"Easily. This way." He gestured.

"Hold on." Ciri said quietly, keeping her hood up. "Before we go in. What is the Imperial presence?"

Gudavsson seemed to realise who was speaking and, if anything, his smile broadened. "There are many merchants but that is not unusual. Lord Voorhis and your closest advisers are still here. Trapped here by the weather."

Ciri nodded. "Can you tell me how they reacted to news of my death?"

"Lord Voorhis quashed it. He asked the Queen to close the harbour, not that any other ships were going to leave in the face of the Skeleton Ship anyway, and no messenger birds would make it through the storm. Having said that, it's almost impossible to think that rumour hasn't left the islands."

Ciri nodded. "It's what I would have done and, unfortunately, doesn't really tell us anything." She frowned in thought before shaking her head and squaring her shoulders. "Very well then."

Gudavsson led us round the side of the main hall where Hlefdan gestured for us all to raise our hoods as we were let in the side entrance.

Even the gentle warmth of a hearth, especially after so much cold, can be painful but again, it was a good pain. It was wholesome and it felt better. Even if there was an overwhelming sense of smoke and body odour. The hall was packed, shoulder to shoulder with people and we had to make our way through with no little amount of force.

At first, I worried that this movement would render our disguises moot and useless, but no-one even turned to glance in our direction. So intent were they on the scene that was before them. So we were able to make our way easily. Svein, Kerrass and Thorvald used their elbows with enthusiasm to get us through the outskirts of the crowd, pushing Helfdan, Ciri and myself into the middle of the group.

It has been said before, including by me, that the political courtroom is just as much a battlefield as, well, a battlefield is. Never before had I seen that metaphor more properly used. We were no longer a nobleman and entourage returning home. We were a battlefield unit and Svein deployed us as though we were marching into battle. He moved forward after having a whispered conversation with Kerrass that I didn't hear. Thorvald and another man were employed in screening Helfdan and Ciri from view. A gesture sent Kar off to one side as he darted through the crowd. Another man peeled off from the back of our formation. Looking around I could also see that Gudavsson was whispering to a couple of guards so that the guardsmen in the room were slowly shuffling around and into various positions that must have been chosen for relevance.

Or they just wanted to get a better view of course.

We made our way to the side of the room. Not in the thin line of people between the main part of the hallway before the Queen's dais. But also not back amongst the press. We were just back from the front row so that we could see what was going on. I had wondered if our hooded nature would make us stand out but I needn't have worried. There was a show going on in the main hall and all eyes were on it.

I will say this for him. Finnvald could put on a good show.

He was stood in front of the room, occasionally moving around while he gesticulated wildly, hands waving in the air. He was wearing his armour although he was unarmed having left his weapons by the wall as was proper in these kinds of situations. I will admit that he looked good. We had all lost some weight due to the privations of time on board ship and presumably looked haggard and thin. But he looked in the bloom of health as he spoke about our many many failings before a rapt audience.

Sat in the throne, Queen Cerys looked on impassively. One elbow rested on an armrest of the throne and she rested her chin on the hand that this elbow provided. She had her legs crossed as she watched Finnvald's display. I do not know the Queen well. She share's with Ciri, that quality of looking as though she was always thinking several steps in advance of the rest of us. But I think she was a combination of faintly bored, thinking of other things as well as being slightly amused at the display that was being put on for her benefit. I am also, although I cannot be sure, but I also think that she saw us all come in. Make of that what you will.

Lord Voorhis was there. He was pacing in a corner along with several other dignitaries from the Imperial court that I recognised but didn't know. I was almost grateful that Madam Yennefer wasn't there as I rather dreaded her wrath should she decide to take offence at whatever would happen next. Lord Voorhis looked terrible. An already pale and slightly sickly looking man, he looked worse. Large bags under his eyes which I thought were bloodshot from this distance. He was frowning in a deep thought that I don't think he could bring himself out of. His movements were jerky and abrupt without his customary grace and decisiveness.

Every few steps or so he would stop and rub at his forehead as though he was fighting off a headache.

I looked for Jarl Hjallmar as well while Finnvald's story dragged on. He was sat at one of the few side-tables that hadn't been pushed aside to make room for the crowds. He was watching the display with a grim and sour expression on his face while drinking from a large jug. Much to my surprise, Captain Rymer was sat with him. He was watching the hall with a faint air of distaste and boredom.

I also saw Lord Dreng in the room with the Tuirseach contingent who was watching Finnvald speak with open disbelief and scepticism painted large on his face. His men seemed to share his scepticism although that seemed to be the rarest sentiment in the hall. Most were wrapped up in the story like any good Skelligan. They laughed at the jokes, groaned at the tales of disaster and cheered all the moments of Finnvald's self-described heroism.

It sickened me to my very core. But it is a truth that men believe that which they hear. Especially when the thing that they hear is said with conviction and surety by someone in authority. I found myself wondering how long Finnvald had worked on his story. Had he come up with this plan before or after that battle on the beach. Had he sailed with us in order to make that plan happen. And under who's orders had he acted in order to give us all into death and torment.

But as I say, he spoke well. I will admit that at least.

Ostensibly, he was talking to the Queen, begging to report on the fact that one of her most trusted Captains had fallen to ambition and, as a result, had disgraced himself before the world in getting himself, his crew and the Empress of Nilfgaard killed in his efforts to elevate himself beyond where his abilities lay. I won't repeat the entirety of his tale here. It was long, boring and utterly false so I will just recount some highlights.

Apparently, Finnvald had advised caution in attacking the Beach of the Ice Giants. This was because the beach itself was actually fairly narrow, surrounded by huge cliffs and that the army...

Yes, the army, he made it sound like there were hundreds of the things rather than the half dozen or so.

…. of Ice Giants meant that beaching was all but impossible. This as well as the harpies and the Ice hounds and the other perils that were arranged against us.

Apparently, I had begged Helfdan to attack when my desire for answers had overwhelmed my own good sense. I quote a little here. "The desire for a brother's vengeance can be overwhelming. But when it leads to the deaths of so many good and dear friends, then that desire can lead to tragedy and murder."

Ciri, described only as "The Empress" had also advised caution along with Finnvald. But this had done no good. Helfdan had merely remembered all the pain and suffering that he had endured at the hands of the Empress and the others during his childhood and that this had helped push him into a frenzy of desire to prove himself. It also bears mentioning that Helfdan was quoted in this. That he expressed a desire to see Ciri punished for her actions during their childhood.

But he saved the best for last. The main driving factor for sending Helfdan into an un-winnable battle, sacrificing his men, his charges and his Empress on the alter of ambition was the target of that ambition. The target of wooing and seducing the Queen of the islands.

"Everyone knows about how Helfdan lusted after the Queen." He told the crowd. "Everyone knows how he hid at doorways and peeked through key holes. How he tried to get into her chambers when she was bathing and how he always conspired to be nearby when she was dressing or entertaining better men. Every one knows the stories about Helfdan's lusts." notice that he wasn't "Lord" Helfdan anymore. "It was only a matter of time before he put his sick and twisted desires into action and made an assault onto the Queen's person."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jarl Hjallmar draining his jug of mead and gesturing for another from one of the thralls in the middle of this particular speech. I looked to see the behaviour of others. Helfdan was impassive. I thought I saw the Queen raise an eyebrow slightly but I could not be sure.

"How do I know all of this?" Finnvald continued. "Because Helfdan told me as much during the planning of his suicidal attack."

"There it is." Svein muttered. "That's what makes it true. That's what makes Helfdan a pervert and a rapist in the eyes of the Isles of Skellige."

"What do you mean?"

"Finnvald is a Captain and a lord of men. He says it. Therefore it is true. No other witnesses will come forward."

"Except us." I said.

"Indeed."

I couldn't see much of Helfdan's face from where I was standing. Not least because his face was hooded and shadowed. But he let the matter go on for much longer than I would have. Long after I would have stepped forward and called Finnvald out for his bullshit, Helfdan was still stood there with an attitude of relatively polite interest.

Three times I went to step forward in order to protect the man that I had sailed with. Three times I made to push my way through the throng of people in order to make my presence felt and sound my protest at the lies that were being thrown at the feet the man to whom I owe my life. The first time was when Finnvald insulted me. I acutely remembered the guilt that I had felt as the men died around me and I remembered the moment where I had wanted to call them back. To tell Helfdan to turn around and to let the matter pass.

Less self-centred, I also went to take a step when Finnvald was talking about the brash nature of the crew. About how they had been too hungry for the glory that the coming battle would bring. Specifically it was the moment where Finnvald stated that it was their own hunger for glory that got them killed. That was the point where my patience snapped.

I endured when Finnvald talked about Ciri. I even endured when he talked about how Kerrass had led Helfdan on with false promises about a Witcher's abilities and about how Helfdan and his crew would be protected from the evil magics of the Ice giants. I reasoned that if Kerrass felt the need to defend himself then he was more than capable of doing precisely that.

But I also stepped forward when Finnvald talked about the many things that Helfdan had told him about the Queen. All of the things that Finnvald claimed that Helfdan had said and done in his pursuit of that lady. I was sickened by them. Not least by the fact that such lies could be dreamed up, nor by the fact that it meant that Finnvald himself would have had to have made more than a few plans of his own in that direction. Or that, as far as I could tell, Helfdan's behaviour towards the Queen was beyond reproach. The thing that got to me though was that, as I looked around I was dismayed by the number of people that seemed to be nodding in agreement of Finnvald's assessment of Helfdan as a pervert who had dark and improper thoughts about the Queen. I went to take a step forward in the middle of that speech as well.

Twice, I felt Svein's hand on my shoulder holding me back. Twice, I looked back into his large, sad eyes and he shook his head at me mouthing the words, "not yet." Twice, I took that advice and returned to my original place in the hall and went on listening.

The third time though, during the insults being poured on Helfdan's head, I shook Svein's hand from my shoulder and took another step. Only to be blocked by Ciri. "Let him do this," she whispered fiercely with her hand flat on my chest. "He does not need protecting. We can back him up when he makes his move." Her eyes were hard and I saw my own anger reflected in them.

So we let Finnvald continue talking. As I said before, I can say many things about Finnvald. Many, many things but I will say that he was a gifted speaker and had the skill that all good storytellers have which was that he held the hall's attention. They laughed when he wanted them to, they wept when he wanted them to and they were utterly still and silent when he wanted them to as well.

Helfdan shifted his weight and crossed his arms.

The tale was drawing to a close. The tragedy of Helfdan's folly had reached it's natural conclusion as Finnvald and his grief-stricken crew watched from the sea as the Ice Giants proceeded to flatten each of the remaining member's of the wave-Serpent's crew. We were all given our suitably heroic last stands. Ciri was picked up by a harpy and torn apart as they fought over the privilege of feasting on her flesh. Kerrass was overwhelmed by Giants and was struck by a club in order to fly through the air and strike the cliffside where his shattered body slid to the foot of the cliff to be eaten by hounds.

All of the famous members of the crew had a little scene. Svein tried to lead a retreat to return to the Wave-Serpent but could not make it in time. Ursa died fighting the King of the Ice Giants.

In case you are wondering, I was squashed by a flying boulder relatively early on in the entire affair. I was a bit disappointed to tell the truth. I was hoping for something much more gruesome.

It was during one of these moments that the hall started to hear a new sound intruding into the air of the hall.

"I did not see The Fury die." Finnvald claimed. "But I did see him charge. It was during Svein Hardhand's heroic, but doomed, attempts to retreat back to the Wave-Serpent. The Fury saw that his men, his people were being overwhelmed and he acted. Like the hero that he was, like the heroes that they all were in truth despite their refusal to accept that their Lord was doomed and weak of heart and mind. He saw the danger and, determined, he cast his shield aside and roared his defiance into the faces of those monsters that were coming for him. He..." Finnvald shook his head as he seemed to lose his place. "He...ummm... He roared his defiance into the faces of the monsters that were coming for him and his crew and he cast his shield aside. Drawing his..."

He looked around the hall for a moment as he tried to find something. "Drawing his sword he threw himself towards the... the..."

He stopped, his face was getting redder by the moment. "Who dares?" He demanded. "Who dares laugh at the fates of these men that died. Who dares laugh at the deaths of brave men?"

The laughter continued. It was wild laughter. Untamed laughter. The laughter that hints at the madness that lies underneath it.

It was Helfdan that was laughing.

And he was really going for it. The effect on the hall was profound. Hell, it was profound on me too. I had never heard Helfdan laugh. He guards his emotions almost as much as Kerrass does although I do think that there is a difference in the two men. Where Kerrass' emotions are naturally subdued due to training, trauma and long years of practice at hiding what he is thinking, I think that Helfdan is the opposite. His emotions are so large and overwhelming that he deliberately tamps them down. So he restrains himself and I wonder if that is another reason that he had had his... breakdown or whatever it was that he calls it. That the emotions had just become too much for him.

But I had never heard him laugh before. It sounded as though he was unused to it as well. Which kind of seemed to add an edge to the open guffaws. The laughter cracked and seemed raspy. It was oddly heart-breaking.

As I say, the effect on the hall was profound. Men, instantly tried to move away from Helfdan to give him room but there was simply no space for that. Men and women had been forced into the hall, shoulder to shoulder, in order to hear this speech and to see how the Queen would respond. The natural urge of the mob is to stand aside from the main players in any public drama. They need the room to be able to see apart from anything else, let alone not wanting to be associated with the men around whom violence is about to take place.

What this meant was that no-one could tell what was happening. Confusion reigned as people looked around for the source of the laughter. The close quarters conspiring to mask the noise and where it was coming from.

So it took a long time for Helfdan to be seen.

He was still standing with his arms folded but he had taken his hood down so that everyone could see him as tears of amusement ran down his face. Slowly, the laughter subsided and Helfdan held his palm out as a man would who might be trying to stifle something and want someone to wait for just a moment longer.

"I apologise Finnvald," he said after settling himself back down. He took the time to have another little chuckle and wipe a couple of tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry. I know that we're all supposed to remain quiet at this kind of thing but it's been so long since I've seen a proper comedy performed well that I just could not contain my laughter any longer.

"So I'm sorry Lord Finnvald. Your majesty," He bowed slightly to the dais. "Lord Jarl and honoured guests. I apologise for spoiling your entertainment. I will endeavour to contain my mirth while Lord Finnvald finishes this entirely entertaining story." He turned and returned to the rest of us that were still hooded and gestured to Finnvald magnanimously. "Please continue." There was another little chortle of laughter as he turned back, folded his arms and fixed Finnvald with a look.

The Queen was no longer looking bored. She had unfolded her legs and was sat, leaning forward slightly. It was not lost on me that her hand hovered near her sword which was propped up against the arm rest of the throne.

You could have heard a pin drop in that hall. Finnvald paled. The only other noise that could be heard over the guttering of the torches and the sputtering of the fire was the sound of Lord Voorhis' exclamation at the sight of the dead coming back to life.

We stood as statues in that hall, all of us, waiting to see who was going to blink first. They call it a Rivian Standoff in Plays. Where people have been rumbled, most people are armed and in that moment just before a fight kicks off. But no-one wants to be the person who starts it. You can see it on any weekend evening in most taverns on the continent. Where most people are looking for where the exits are and the barman has his hands beneath the counter. Before violence had entered my life, I had always wondered why someone doesn't just slit the other guy's throat. Or dive for cover or throw something and flee. It just always seemed pointless to me when I saw it in plays and read about it in books when people have daggers and swords at each other's throats. Why don't they just start the thing going?

But then I was there for one and I understood. There is a pressure to this kind of thing. It's tricky to explain but it's as though there is a force that keeps you in place. The giant hand of the God of Drama keeps you all standing there, watching and waiting to see who is going to blink first.

In this case it was Finnvald. His mouth opened and closed a few times as his mind could be seen to visibly work things out. Then he closed his mouth for a moment and then started to speak.

But Helfdan was faster.

Finnvald, like myself, had forgotten that there are two areas in which Helfdan excels. The first, and his favourite and the more famous of his skills, is that when he is on the deck of a ship, there is no-one to touch him. But the other is that he is a genuinely gifted courtier. He can see through the bluster and the pomp and the ceremony until he finds the truth of the matter. He can easily ignore even the most convoluted of obfuscations into what lies beneath.

"Oh I see." He said in obviously feigned astonishment. "You meant these things to be seen as truth, not comedy." He nodded slightly. "In that case."

All pretence left him then. Suddenly he was the man of astonishing violence and the promise of wrath.

"In that case, you lie." He snarled. "You lie and you lie and you lie. You besmirch good and decent men with your lies. You doomed men to death who would have lived had you but had the courage to remain loyal. So instead, you betray me and do not even remain behind to see to it that the job was finished."

He moved forward as he spoke and we all moved with him.

"Not only did I survive, Lord Finnvald. I conquered. My men conquered." He made the words into blades and spears that he hurled into Finnvald's body. "We all conquered and then we continued to do our duty. We conquered, we forced the giants and their allies to terms and then moved on. You lie."

Helfdan spun on the rest of the hall who literally fell back from his rage. "I am Lord Helfdan. The Black Boar. And what you say as insult, I take as truth and virtue. I am Helfdan Fatherless, the Bastard of Clan An Craite and I say that this man lies." He spun back, drawing his sword as he did so and hurled it at Finnvald's feet. "My sword says that you lie."

"As does mine." Kerrass was faster on the upkeep. His harsh, calm voice was a powerful counterpoint to Helfdan's raw and cracking emotion. The Witcher's blade clattered as it joined Helfdan's on the floor.

"And mine." Svein cried, "although mine is an axe."

I finally found my voice. "I think my spear is kind of redundant." I said into the growing noise as I screwed the two halves of the spear together. "But I will add mine to the pile you lying piece of filth."

Finnvald fell backwards as though we were striking him physically.

But someone else wanted to ask questions.

"Where is the Empress?" Lord Voorhis demanded pushing through to stand before the angry lord. "Where is she Helfdan? Answer me, damn your eyes, or I swear..."

"His name is Lord Helfdan." Ciri's voice was like nails on a slate as she all but appeared from the back of the group. Her sword appearing in her hand and held out towards Lord Voorhis' throat where the man paled, his eyes widening. "And you will demand nothing." She hissed. "Until you tell me about the treasonous attack on my life and the lives of my friends and allies, by my so called countrymen. And don't claim you knew nothing about those ships that attacked us, because that either makes you incompetent, or a traitor yourself."

Lord Voorhis' arms crept up and he held his hands out from his side.

"Kneel." Ciri growled.

The poor man sank to his knees and another tableau was formed.

There was a brief burst of activity after that. A couple of the royal guards took a prominent step forward and put themselves to the fore on either side of the Queen. Their massive shields, similar to the one that Ursa used to use and that I had held to protect Kerrass, were poised ready to be lifted into place so that the Queen would be protected.

There was a scuffle elsewhere in the crowd which showed itself to be Kar holding his dagger at the throat of a man that had a small crossbow in his hand. Udolf was next to him with his own axe drawn and held ready, his facial hair bristling in indignation at anyone that might start anything of violence.

Most tellingly for me, there was a sound of doors being slammed and bars being slid into place. I saw Gudavsson deploying men around the place, some of whom were putting helmets on and lifting shields into place. A whole line of these guards stood between the overall crowd and those parts of the hall where the weapons were stacked.

Then the world became still again.

There was even more exchanging of glances between all the major parties. As I say, I don't know the Queen very well, but I strongly suspect that she was kind of amused. Also excited a little bit although I don't know why. The spilling of blood in a feast hall is one of the ultimate taboos of the Skelligan isles. At the time, I found myself more than a little confused that she didn't intervene. If such a scene had occurred before any of the other monarchs on the continent, there would have been guards running around. There would be shouting and general shouts of outrage.

Here? It was almost silent. The only noise being the rattling of armour as Lord Voorhis sank to his knees.

I have since learned why the Queen didn't intervene and that was because it wasn't her hall. Despite their presenting themselves as a relatively simple people, the Skelligans have many complex and ancient laws that govern their behaviour and actions in different formal circumstances. The rest of the continent has a habit of dismissing them for this perceived simplicity and I hope, if I have done anything with these last few chapters, that it is to illustrate that they are a highly complex people. They just don't value the same things that we value. But to underestimate them is death.

Here, the hall belonged to Clan an Craite. And so far, this was a conflict between two Captains of Clan an Craite. Therefore it was an internal matter. An interesting and dramatic matter to be sure, but still an internal matter nonetheless.

So we were all stood there, waiting for the next move to materialize. The most recent moves in the dance had placed matters firmly in Finnvald's hands. He could accept the challenge and fight to preserve his honour. Even though his falsehood had been laid bare before the entire court given his flowery descriptions of our deaths.

I now suspect that this had been the thing that Helfdan had been waiting for to intervene. He had been giving Finnvald enough rope in order to hang himself. Having thought about this matter in the meantime, this is the option that he should have taken. As soon as Helfdan's sword hit the ground, Finnvald should have stepped forward and taken it up as Helfdan's weapon skills leave much to be desired. Then the victory would have cleaned all sin and dishonour away from Finnvald. Washed away in the blood of Helfdan. Or, if he lost, then at least his death would be quick and honourable.

He could admit that he was wrong and take the resulting disgrace on the chin. He could claim that he was mistaken. He could argue that he, and his crew, had been overcome by strange magics conjured by the ice giants and their cohorts that had convinced him that he saw the deaths involved. He would still be disgraced, retreating from a battle, even a hopeless one, is a bad thing in Skelligan society. But he might survive it with his lands and powers intact.

He could even throw himself at the Jarl and Queen's feet and beg for mercy. He could have come completely clean in the face of everything, explained everything and heaped the blame on someone, anyone really. This is almost certainly what he should have done. Just come clean.

He could even have have taken the offered way out. He could have said that he was playing a prank on everyone's expense. I don't think that this would have gone very well for him in all fairness. But it was something that he might have considered.

But he didn't. As Svein told me, all that time ago. A span that felt like years ago despite only being a week or so ago. Finnvald was an ambitious man. He was stood there, trying to figure out what the solution was. Trying to guess what he should do and where he could steal advantage. And I think that that was his doom in the end. Because the longer he stood there, his mouth working like a fish that has just been tossed onto land in order to die, without answering the charges levelled against him, the more and more guilty he appeared to be.

So we had thrown him the ball, and he was failing to decide what to do with it.

So in the end. Someone else decided for him.

"That's enough." Hjallmar stood up from his bench. He did so slowly and deliberately, the movement drawing eyes towards him. He picked up his flagon and drained it as well, wiping the foam away on the back of his hand. Despite the cold weather, he was still wearing his open necked shirt. The tartan cloak that he had wrapped around himself was a little thicker than it might have been the last time that I was in the area but he seemed to have made little or no concession to the weather.

He put his flagon down on the table so that the noise echoed in the hall.

Then he walked, slowly, over to where Ciri had Lord Voorhis at sword point. He was slightly drunk. You could tell because he was placing his feet with deliberate care. He didn't weave as he moved, nor did he stagger, but he was careful with the way that he behaved. He came to stand beside Ciri. Then he took several deep breaths.

"Sister of my heart, if not in blood." He said, the words seeming formal in their language. "My heart is overjoyed to see you alive again in this world. I was waiting for the ice to retreat before my fleet would have gone to Undvik and we would have the world scoured of the ice Giants for once and for all out of vengeance for your death. So do not doubt how I feel about your return to us now."

Then he looked down and shifted his feet slightly. I have seen that movement before, on practice fields and in other places all over the continent. He was readying himself for a fight.

When he raised his eyes again their was a fury burning in the depths of his piercing blue gaze.

"But of all people," he growled. "You, at least, should know the penalty for threatening another man in my hall."

"This is an internal matter, Hjalmar." Ciri intoned, similar rage in her voice.

"I don't care if he shat in your bed." Hjalmar snarled before calming again, just as suddenly. "You will put up your sword and you will go and place it with the others, or hand it to one of my warriors. You will do so, right now. Or I will kill you. Right now." He signalled and a pair of his warriors came to stand near him and near to Ciri. Kerrass and I shifted to go and help her but Hjalmar spun and glared at us. "Remain where you are." He told us. "Or join her in death."

I had heard about the anger of the Jarl of Clan an Craite. I had only known the jovial, happy drinker and so this man of barely contained violence was shocking."

Another warrior moved to stand between us and them, his shield raised and axe poised. He looked at us apologetically, but there was no compromise in either posture or expression. It suddenly seemed desperately stupid to have thrown our weapons down with Helfdan. But it had seemed like such a good idea at the time.

Ciri stood, frozen in place for a long time before she abruptly shifted and lowered the sword. She sheathed it on her back in her characteristically smooth movement before un-slinging the weapon and handing it to one of the guards.

"Thank you." Hjalmar said to her. "It would have broken my heart to have to kill you."

"You would have tried." Some of Ciri's old humour was in the expression.

Hjalmar grinned at her. "I'm not rising to that." He told her in friendly tones before his voice turned formal. "I understand that you have internal matters of state to address." He told her. "But I would ask that you leave such things out of my hall and address them well away from my royal sister's court."

Ciri nodded before turning back to Lord Voorhis. "Get up Lord Voorhis." She told him. "I have commands for you."

He was shaking as he followed her orders.

"My companions and I were attacked by ships flying Nilfgaardian colours and belonging to the (Freddie: I have removed the name for political reasons.) trading company. There is a mage that we took captive being held in the courtyard. You know what to do from there. I must remain here and finish this."

He bowed, still pale and shaking. He gestured and two of the black armoured Imperial Guard that were stood at the back followed him as he left the hall. Two more detached and stood next to Ciri on either side. I might have been imagining it, but it almost looked as though they were standing a little closer to her than they normally would have, quivering with the desire to do her bidding.

"Now," Hjalmar stalked over to stand next to Finnvald but a little in front of him, between Finnvald and Helfdan. "Lord Helfdan." He growled it. Again, I was struck with a sense of barely retrained fury. "You know how I feel about my Lords fighting with each other do you not?"

Helfdan didn't move.

"How many times have I stood in this very hall?" Hjalmar demanded. "How many times have I made speeches and demands. How many times have I spoken about the need for Clan An Craite to be unified against our enemies. How many times Lord Helfdan?"

Helfdan said nothing.

"The Queen is from our clan." Hjalmar spoke to the hall. "And Clan An Craite has a duty. A responsibility to defend her and to do her proud. Even though the Queen exists outside the clans and above them. We must never shame her. But you come here. Before the six Jarls of the clans and you foment civil war amongst the clan. You challenge a fellow Lord and Captain before the Queen. You challenge and you disgrace us all for that. And even worse, you do so at a time when Skellige is unified under the threat of the Skeleton Ship."

He took another step forward.

"You will pick up your weapons." He said. "You will apologise to the Queen for your outburst of temper. You will do so now."

Helfdan remained frozen in place.

Abruptly, Hjalmar stalked over until he was inches from Helfdan's face. "Pick up your weapons." He told him, speaking to all of us but he was staring Helfdan in the face as he did so. "Pick them up now, or I shall pick them up for you."

As the note, the thrown blade is the form of a challenge. No Skelligan can fight their lord in challenge, so if Hjallmar had picked up any of the blades then they would have been forced to fight him for it.

Helfdan slowly shifted his gaze from Finnvald over to Hjalmar. Then he sighed and nodded.

The entire courtroom seemed to sigh and deflate a little bit. As though a sail had lost the wind.

Helfdan gestured to the rest of us as Hjalmar stepped aside. Finnvald's face flushed in triumph and I tried not to look at him.

I took up my spear and turned to find a Large warrior of clan An Craite holding out his hand in order to receive the weapon. I smiled at him and twisted the spear until it came apart and handed him the two parts. He nodded at me as he took them away. As I turned, other guards were taking the weapons of my fellows and carrying them away.

Helfdan stepped forward and took a knee before the Queen. "My Queen, I humbly beg your forgiveness as well as the forgiveness of your court. My rage overwhelmed me at a most crucial time and I was unable to restrain myself. I ask only that any punishment levelled should be levelled at my feet alone as my people merely followed my example."

"Do you have anything to say in your defence?" She said quietly although I noticed that her voice carried.

"Plenty." Helfdan told her. "But they are explanations, not excuses. My lord Jarl is correct. He has ordered that no challenges be issued between the Lords and Captains of Clan An Craite as such feuds cannot be sustained given our position and past losses. I broke that command."

"And the penalty for breaking the Jarl's commands is most dire." Finnvald crowed in triumph. "You are to be..."

"We shall come to your explanations in a moment, as they may excuse certain matters." Hjalmar told Helfdan, overriding Finnvald's voice. "I look forward to those explanations as I have questions." He allowed his voice to become informal and joking for a moment. "So... many... questions."

The courtroom laughed and I realised a bit more about what was going on. Hjalmar was enjoying himself.

"But first I must ask if The Queen, my sister, accepts Lord Helfdan's apology for disrupting her entertainment." Hjalmar went on.

Then I realised that Hjalmar hadn't stopped calling Helfdan "Lord".

Queen Cerys appeared to consider the matter for a moment. "I leave the matter in your hands Lord Jarl. I am not insulted and the interlude is quite interesting."

Finnvald paled and took a step backwards.

"Thank you, Majesty. So, Lord Helfdan. Your explanations regarding your rage please? I would ask you to be detailed in what has happened since you fought with Captain Rymer of Clan Tuirseach as your actions up until that point are documented. Please be specific."

Then he turned back to Finnvald. "Don't go anywhere Lord Finnvald." Two more guards, including Gudavsson, came out of the crowd and stood next to Finnvald. Gudavsson was grinning in enjoyment beneath the helmet.

"I would be glad to, My Lord. But..." I began to feel a sinking feeling in my stomach as Helfdan spoke. "...I fear that I am a little too angry at what the tale contains. And My Lord, and the rest of the court, are aware of how I can sometimes get if I get too angry." He said it with humour. And the court laughed with him. Finnvald paled even further.

"And we wouldn't want any more emotional outbursts would we Lord Helfdan?" Someone heckled from the back. I didn't see who it was but the tone was friendly if a little teasing.

"As you say Lord Dreng." Helfdan said. "Instead, I have a chronicler who has been part of my crew during this journey and I would ask him to recount the tale." He gestured to me.

Oh Flame. Now I would have to perform for the audience. I managed to swallow my groan but only just.

"No." Finnvald objected. "No, that is unacceptable." He gestured at me angrily. "This man is no Skald. He is no witness or truth speaker. He has no capability to tell a story or recount history. How can we know that he tells the truth? I will not stand by while this man besmirches me and my reputation." He almost spat the words. "He is no Skald." He folded his arms across his chest as though he had delivered a final blow that would send us all back into our holes with his final point.

"No he is not." Helfdan agreed. "But then again, neither are you. And when I walked into the hall earlier, it was to hear you recounting events as though they were facts."

The hall, literally, went "Ooohhhh" at the point. I've said it many times before but it bears repeating. Few people enjoy a good drama as much as the Skelligan people. I thought it might be something to do with the fact that they are an aural tradition and do not value the written word. But that would be an analysis for wiser people than me.

"Skald?" Hjalmar said the word as a summons and a man pushed his way to the front. Fairly heavily muscled, he had a long beard that was interwoven with wooden beads and iron rings. He had a harp on his back while he ate something from a bowl. I recognised him as one of the Skalds that I had first met when I came to Skellige. Not the man who had first told the story of the Skeleton Ship but one of his fellows. It was my understanding that he was one of the law-keepers of Kaer Trolde and as such, very rarely employed the storytelling craft.

"Speaking personally," he said between mouthfuls of whatever it was that he was eating. "I don't think it's that important. Lord Helfdan's point is well made. Obviously, if there was a Skald present then that would be a different matter. But so far we have heard a version of events from Lord Finnvald and it seems only fair that we hear a version of events from Lord Helfdan's camp."

There was some rumbled agreement from the onlookers. I saw that, now that the immediate threat of violence had abated, Thralls were bringing out food and drink again and the crowd was getting jovial. They were beginning to look forward to a show.

"As to Frederick the Scribbler." The Skald went on to my embarrassment. "For obvious reasons, I have not read any of his work. But I have had some choice passages read to me. I have also heard him speak and I judge him to be as close to being a Skald as an outsider can be. He speaks well, he is entertaining when he does so and he seeks to educate with his stories as much to inform. He is known to omit certain details for the safety of people involved or due to ongoing situations but I think that is responsible rather than negligent. Obviously he could never be a Skald as his ability to read and write precludes that but still, he is as close as we will come from Lord Helfdan's camp. I am only speaking for myself of course and what I say should not be reflected onto the council of Skalds."

There was some nodding.

"I have a Skald." Lord Finnvald said. Small points of colour had formed in his paling cheeks. He was sweating and beginning to look feverish.

"Then he should have been the one to tell the story, not you." The hall's Skald snapped. "I, for one, wish to hear what Frederick the Scribbler has to say." There was some more rumbling of agreement from the crowd.

"Time to seize the moment Freddie," Kerrass whispered to me. "Nothing about the plan for the Skeleton Ship though. That is for the Queen to hear first."

"Or about who the Nilfgaardian ship's belonged to." Ciri added. "Other than that they were Nilfgaardian."

I nodded acceptance of both points and stood forward. The saying of "We are architects of our own destruction," was never truer than it was when talking about Finnvald. His dismissal of me while questioning my bias and honesty had stirred up some of my anger that washed away my fatigue and pushed it into the back of my mind. I still longed for a hot bath and a soft bed but that became a more background thing. Finnvald's insults meant that I was no longer afraid.

So it came to be my turn to tell a story. I had not told one during the camp fires on the beaches during the journey while we took shelter from the wind, the rain and the cold. Nor had I told any stories while trying to pass the time during the various voyages that we had taken part in. But now it was my turn.

I have no idea how it went although Kerrass claims it went fairly well.

I told of the cold, I remarked on the surprise arrival of Finnvald in Helfdan's village and I particularly took the time to remark on Finnvald's invoking the name of the Queen in order to get Helfdan to trust him, thus forcing Helfdan's hand in the matter. I remember that bit because the audience hissed.

They literally hissed and booed.

I told of the planning sessions, taking the time to emphasise the original plan and about how Finnvald had raised no objections to the plan. I spoke of the battle on the beach. I spoke of my own terror and the tactics used by the men of the Wave-Serpent. I told about the heroism and the sacrifices that were made and I told about my desire to not have men die in my name.

Then I told them about that moment where we looked back and realised that Finnvald's crews were not reinforcing us as planned and that they were, instead, retreating. The hall fell silent as I recounted the moment where Helfdan and Svein had exchanged council with each other before deciding that the best thing to do was to charge the enemy.

The crowd cheered at that.

I described the final moments of the battle, the defeat of the King of the Ice Giants, the last charge of Sigurd the fury, the defence of the rock by Kunnr and the deaths of Ivar and Haakon. Then I talked about the coming of the Yukki-Onna, speaking about the debates and the formation of the tentative truce. About the political marriage between the injured Sigurd and the Ice-Giant's daughter and about how the Yukki-Onna enforced that truce.

Helfdan interrupted the story briefly to carry the Yukki-Onna's greeting to the Queen and commented on her desire for peace. Queen Cerys nodded her gratitude at the message and told the court that she would discuss the matter in private council at a future date before telling me that I should continue with the story.

So I did, moving onto our continuing journey in order to consult the Vodyanoi which is where I was a little political. I called them Vodyanoi, not Fomori. Finnvald did start to protest at that, that we had consulted the ancient enemy, thus proving that we were in league with evil forces aligned against the islands. The Skald came to my rescue again as he pointed out that the continent was broken up into nations and that Skellige itself was broken up into clans. Was it any less reasonable to assume that the Vodyanoi (he did use that word as well, rather pointedly I thought) did any different?

I continued my story.

Then we came to the ambush by the Nilfgaardian ships. As Ciri asked, I did not mention the trading company that those ships belonged to. Nor did I mention that, even as I spoke, the head of Nilfgaardian confidential agencies was in the process of interrogating a captive that we had taken. I told them, when describing the boarding action, that we killed the mage. It seemed the most political of statements at the time.

I was good enough that the crowd wept as I told them of the death of the Wave-Serpent. I so desperately wanted to turn and see what kind of effect the story had on Hjalmar and Queen Cerys. But I was talking to the crowd and I did not dare turn away.

I was able to recount Helfdan's speech on the shore with relative accuracy and I all but skipped over the return journey, save to praise the farmer who had given us the horses and the innkeeper who had taken us in when we were in danger of freezing to death.

I finished by saying. "I wish that my story had a happy ending. I know that that is not always the way with Sagas but there it is. But if I there is one truth that I would have you remember it is that Thirty three crewmembers of the Wave-Serpent fought against the Ice Giants and won. Then fifteen of us fought the Nilfgaardian pirates. I cannot say that we won, but I will say that we survived. Some would say that survival is a victory against such overwhelming odds but to me, here, I will not say that I feel as though we won.

"Nor is this an ending. For myself, I still have a sister to avenge. For the Empress, she has traitors to root out and destroy. For Lord Helfdan and the rest of the crew of the Wave-Serpent. Those men have already done me too great an honour for counting me amongst their number. In shedding blood and dying for a foreign cause, against enemies that would have sent Continental knees to shaking. Now they have a task ahead of them that I cannot easily comprehend. Now they must rebuild and recover. They must mourn that which they have lost and they must carry on in the face of all of those people that wish to see them destroyed. I can only promise them that if I can help them, then I will, just as they have helped me.

"I will never forget the experiences that I have shared with you all and when I depart to continue my... my Quest. I will carry the memories of those men and that, most mighty of ships with me wherever I go. And I will always, particularly, cherish the memory of the Wave-Serpent."

Then I stepped back.

Then the crowd raored and I felt tears running down my face from the sheer emotion of it. It was draining, that tale telling. Absolutely exhausting. But it needed doing.

Hjalmar waited for a long time before taking things up again. He stepped forward and held his hands up for silence.

"That was a fascinating story." He said into the quiet. "Fascinating and, may I say, well told. The fact that your story accounts for how one of my Lords and Captains stands before me now, alive and well, along with the sister of my heart. And the other does not. Lends it a ring of truth that is lacking in Lord Finnvald's account of things."

He was pacing as he said this. Moving backwards and forwards in front of the assembly, head bowed as if in thought.

"Tell us, Lord Finnvald." He stopped in front of the stricken man, "How would you reconcile the two accounts?"

Finnvald was ready. "Lord Jarl. Allow me to produce my Skald and he will..."

"Ah," Hjalmar sighed. "Legal manoeuvring. I should have recognised the stench. Very well, produce your Skald."

Another explanatory note. There is a hierarchy of truths. Where some men have precedence over the other. Where some people get believed over all others no matter the evidence that might exist to the contrary. A Skald's truth trumps my truth as it is part of what and who Skalds are due to them swearing oaths to that effect.

A younger man was pushed to the front of the hall. He was a young man and I didn't recognise him.

"Go on," Finnvald prompted. "Tell the hall what really happened."

The young man cowered before the hall.

"Remember who you work for Lad." The older Skald called out. "Remember your oaths."

"Tell them what we saw." Finnvald snarled.

"Lord Finnvald's account is accurate." The younger Skald said carefully.

"See, Lord Jarl." Finnvald grinned in triumph. "These men are either imposters, or my men and I were bewitched."

"I have a question, if I may interrupt Lord Jarl." The Queen leant forward on her throne.

"Of course, my Queen." Hjalmar said, bowing and stepping aside.

"Were you there, young Skald?" She asked gently.

Finnvald paled again.

"No, I wasn't." The young man admitted.

"So how did you know what happened?" Hjalmar roared, spittle flailing from his lips.

"I listened to Lord Finnvald's account and the account of the other sailors and warriors." The boy admitted.

"So you saw nothing." Hjalmar's voice was quiet again.

"No."

Finnvald turned to flee before one of the guards at his elbow caught him.

"Well, Lord Finnvald?" Hjalmar's words dripped with venom. "Time to explain yourself."

"I...I..."

"NOW, LORD FINNVALD." Hjalmar screamed in his face. Some more spittle spraying from his lips. I suddenly had an image of what he would be like in battle, raging against his enemies and begging them to come to him and die. Then his voice went quiet. "Why did you betray one of your own? Why did you turn on a clansman, a fellow lord? Why did you turn on a man who has done nothing to you save to show up your own weaknesses on a nationwide scale?"

"But..." Finnvald looked into the crowd. I didn't have time to track who it was that he was looking for as whoever, or whatever it was that he was seeking, he didn't find it. His face folded in on itself. "I thought that it was what you would want."

The crowd groaned.

"You thought that it was what I would want." Hjalmar repeated before letting his own head fall a little. "Leaving aside the fact that I know you Finnvald. Leaving aside the fact that you would not do a thing like this unless there was a way that it would benefit yourself directly apart from just making me happy. Because the lies would mean that I couldn't reward you directly. Leaving all that aside..."

He looked back into Finnvald's face. "Why would you think that it would be something I would want? Why would you think that I would want you to flee before the enemies that aligned themselves against you. The entire nation of Skellige has looked down on Clan Brokvar for centuries for that reason when they retreated from a hopeless fight. Our sagas are replete with tales of men fighting hopeless battles."

He shook his head before speaking again.

"Why would you think that I would want that? Why would I want this man's death and the death of his men?"

In comparison to his earlier rage, Hjalmar's voice was almost gentle.

"Because you hate him." Finnvald commented to another groan of the crowd. A few voices shouted in protest. A few more shouted in agreement. Most were outraged at the attempt by Finnvald to pass the blame onto his Jarl.

"You are always complaining about his attitude and his arrogance." Finnvald went on, his voice increasing in volume now that he had found his subject and his confidence started to increase. You are always telling us about how Helfdan did this or did that in a way that you are not pleased with. You have told the story where Helfdan helped sack the harbour that others said couldn't be done but he did it without honour."

Other voices were being raised now.

"But most of all I did it because of how he treats your sister. I know you know about it my lord. I know you know how he feels. How he levels his perverted lusts against your sister the Queen. You know it, I know it, we all know that that is how he likes to behave. We've all heard the stories, about how he spends his time following her around. How he fawns over her. How he tries to gain glimpses of her as she's bathing."

I stole a glimpse over at Helfdan. The Queen was behind me and so I had no way of turning round to gauge her thinking on the matter. But Helfdan's face was a mask. Svein was outraged, disgusted and appalled. I got the feeling that Ciri was a little bit amused but couldn't put it any clearer than that.

I found that my own thinking went towards Ciri's thinking. Finnvald was hanging himself the more he spoke.

"We all know his plans. That part of the story is true. We all know how he plans to seduce the Queen and he intends to vent his perverted..."

"Enough." Hjalmar snarled before appearing suddenly tired. "Just... Enough." I was astonished. Hjalmar was shaking, visibly trembling. I have no idea what he was thinking but he was trembling with the emotion of it.

"My Lord..." Finnvald tried again, not wanting to lose the inertia. "How many times have we sat at table while Helfdan is off doing whatever? How many times have you muttered in dislike as Helfdan presents the Queen with some gift that you... You wanted him dead. You wanted him disgraced and killed. You wanted someone to..."

Hjalmar hit him. His fury driving the blow into the side of Finnvald's face sending the other man flying backwards.

The crowd roared.

One of the taboos of Skelligan society is that you can't shed blood in a feasting hall. It is said that this curses both the hall and the people involved according to the will of the Gods. It's the breaking of hospitality, which is one of the most important parts of Skelligan tradition. It would later turn out to be one of the reasons that people were so outraged at Ciri's holding a sword to Lord Voorhis' throat. And that the lord of that hall had just committed violence and... by splitting Finnvald's lips... literally spilling blood...

Guards boiled out of nowhere. This was no longer entertainment, this was real and deadly. The Queen had come to her feet, shouting her brother's name. I saw Rymer vault the table that he had been sitting at and dive towards Hjalmar. Others fell back.

But Helfdan got to Hjalmar first. Hjalmar who was standing over Finnvald had murder in his eyes and Helfdan, much smaller than Hjalmar, didn't try to restrain his Lord's body. Instead, he wrapped himself round Hjalmar's arm.

Then Rymer got there, forcing his body between Hjalmar and Finnvald. Svein got hold of Hjalmar from the back. Gudavsson was dragging Finnvald away from the enraged Jarl and other guards were trying to restrain the Jarl from doing something unspeakable and unthinkable to the Skelligan people.

Back when the last monarch of Skellige was elected, Hjalmar was one of the contenders for the throne. I was seeing the kind of King that he would have been. He would have been one of the battle kings of old. Standing on the field on a mountain of his enemies with sword and axe flashing in the firelight as he laughed with the joy of battle. Five men were restraining him now. Helfdan, Svein, Rymer and two men in the full formal armour of the Clan An Craite household guard. Five, hardened warriors and Hjalmar barely moved. Indeed, I can honestly say that if Gudavsson hadn't pulled Finnvald out of the way, there would have been nothing that anyone could have done to prevent Hjalmar from killing him in his rage.

All this, and Hjalmar is not a berserker.

I froze in that moment. I had no idea what to do. Ciri grabbed Kerrass and I by the arm and stepped backwards, pulling us out of the way. She was absolutely right to do so. Helfdan might have accepted us as part of his crew, but we were still far from being Skelligan so our survival was far from being assured if some well meaning guard decided that we were attacking the Jarl.

Not that it occurred to me to do that. I was almost frozen in place with shock at the sudden outbreak of violence. I had been enjoying the destruction of Finnvald and now we were watching the outrage of Skellige mad manifest.

Five men to hold Hjalmar back. Five men and in the end, he threw them off as though they were nothing.

"ENOUGH." He roared and kind of shrugged until he stood there in the middle of them, sweating and shaking. The hall was still again. Still and quiet, making Hjalmar's raspy breathing the only sound.

"Get him to his feet." Hjalmar gestured at the fallen Finnvald before stalking over to his table, Rymer in tow, where he poured himself a flagon of whatever it was he was drinking before finishing the flagon, hurling it aside in disgust and instead draining the jug. Then he beckoned a thrall over, handed them the jug and grated the words, "Fill it up."

Then he stood there, leaning on the table while he worked to regain mastery of himself.

Queen Cerys joined him at the table and put her hand on his shoulder. The brother and sister stood there for a while as he calmed. Then he placed his own hand on hers before nodding to her. She returned the gesture before walking back to her throne and sitting down.

The thrall had returned with Hjalmar's jug of drink and Hjalmar gestured for the thrall to wait before he walked into the middle of the hall.

"Lord Helfdan." Hjalmar began, his voice only shaking slightly. "Would you take your men back to your places please. Remain close as I suspect that the Queen will have questions regarding your mission, when this internal matter of Clan An Craite is resolved."

Helfdan bowed, his face still a mask and gestured for the rest of us to follow him.

Halmar stood in the middle of the hall, head bowed, hands on his hips as he thought.

"My lords." He began. "I apologise. What you have just seen and heard does not reflect well on Clan An Craite. I apologise."

There was a few mutters as people began to get over their shock.

"I also need to apologise to the Queen, who should be served better by one of her Jarls and the clan of her birth. We have disgraced ourselves before her and the majority of that blame needs to be laid at my feet. I will discuss how I can make amends to her in private."

There was a bit more nodding and you could feel the tension start to leave the room.

Then Hjalmar took a deep breath and looked around the room at everyone present. "I am grateful that so many people are here. I am grateful that there are so many witnesses to what I must say next. This will mean that there can be no doubt. No doubt at all as to my meaning when I say these words."

He took another breath.

"I do not like Lord Helfdan." He told us all. "I never have. I very much doubt that I ever will. I did not like him as a child and I do not like him as a man."

There was a bit of muttering and Hjalmar waited for it to subside.

"Helfdan and I are nothing alike. I do not know him and I do not understand him. Again, I do not think that this is something that will ever change. Do I hate him?"

He shrugged.

"Sometimes I do. I will admit that. I hate him for his faults and for all the ways that he does not fall into the way I think that the world works. I hate him for all of his faults. I hate the fact that he does not enjoy any of the things that I enjoy. He does not enjoy violence. He does not laugh at my jests. He does not enjoy drinking or carousing. He takes little joy in the company of bawdy men and bawdier women.

"He does not enjoy games. He does not boast or put himself forward. All of the things that we, as Skelligans value. He does not laugh. He does not cheer. And he is always watching. Always. And I hate that. I really do. I always feel as though he's judging me and finding me wanting. As though he thinks that he could do a better job than me."

He sighed a little. He paced around as he talked.

"The problem is that he probably could. I also hate him for all the ways that he is better than me. He is calm when I am angry. Cautious when I am reckless. He is a terrifying killer and as cold a fish as I've ever met."

There was a bit of laughter then as Helfdan visibly tilted his head to one side as if to consider this assessment of his strengths and weaknesses. Then he shrugged and nodded his agreement.

"I'm pointedly not going to comment on his love of reading and writing." Hjalmar joked to more laughter.

"I also hate him for his competence. He will admit himself that although he is a cold and calculating killer, his command of tactics, strategy and combat is weak. But on the oceans? At the tiller of a ship? There is none to beat him. None at all."

I could sense that the crowd was turning back towards approval from their earlier horrified condemnation of Hjalmar.

"That he surrounds himself with men, and women, who make up for this weakness, meaning that he is aware of his own faults is something else that infuriates me. I hate him for the blind loyalty and love that his people show him. I hate the fact that they seem so devoted to him and it gnaws at my confidence that they seem to respect him more for his weaknesses and his knowledge of them, than they do for his strengths. That he has made a virtue of not depending on a line of ancestors to give him precedence is only one of these factors.

"I hate that his is so generous to his men as well. I mean just look at him in compared to any other lord in this hall. The only thing that shows that he has any kind of personal wealth is the fact that he carries a sword rather than an axe. His clothes are relatively cheap and lack all the ornaments that the rest of us wear. He wears no rings, no torques, no jewellery. I know why, it's because any wealth that he receives, he gives back to his men and spends on his lands. He regards himself as worthless without his men and his people. So he rewards them for it. I bet it seems so logical to him as well and I hate him for that. I hate that, in being logical and ordered in his thinking, he shows me up for the vain and selfish lord that I am."

A few people cried in protest at this, Helfdan looked appalled at this and was also voicing his protest,

"No, no, I am. I can admit to my own faults but I hate Helfdan for forcing me to confront them when I would rather not think about them at all.

"But most of all, I hate him because he is different from me. Which means that he is different from most of my friends. He is... strange to me. I do not understand how his mind works. As children, he would become enraged at the slightest teasing insult which, to us, was the sign of our trying to be friends. He acts when he should think and thinks when he should act and I don't understand it. I just can't... I can't talk to him. I can't get drunk with him and tell stories and make jokes and boast about our conquests on the battlefield and in the bedchamber. He makes me feel uncomfortable and I hate that. I hate being made to feel that way. He's like my reflection on the water, except that this reflection only shows my faults and not my virtues."

He turned and stood before Helfdan. "So Helfdan, let me tell you this as a man, standing before you and looking you in the eye. I do not like you. I never have. I doubt that we will ever be friends."

Helfdan just nodded. I thought that it was the nod of a man who was accepting the truth of something that he already knew.

"But." Hjalmar continued. "As a Lord. As Jarl of Clan An Craite. I have nothing but praise for Lord Helfdan of the Black Boar. Helfdan the fatherless.

"I'm sure that my sister, the Queen, will agree with me. That if I order Helfdan to do anything. He will do it. It will not even occur to him to fail. I might not like the way that he sets about it. I will admit that I have had cause to think carefully about the way that I issue my orders to him..."

There was some more laughter.

"... but the results are always the same. Helfdan succeeds where others thought it was impossible. He does so with cold, calm methods and does not demand precedence for his successes...

"Another fault of mine. I should reward the actions, not the boasts of my Lords but that is just part of the thinking that I need to do.

"... but he just does what we order as his Jarl and his monarch. He doesn't complain. He doesn't moan or bitch or talk about it over mead in the mead-hall where other people might listen. He listens, nods and then leaves to set about his tasks. He does not procrastinate, he does not wait, or put the task off. He sets about things and then, when he is done with what either I, or the Queen, have asked him to do. He will come back and ask if there is any other way that he might serve his clan or Skellige as a whole. Speaking as his Jarl, I wish that I had more lords and Captains who would behave in such a way.

"His lands are as free as any from banditry and his tribute to the Queen and his clan are always on time and often far more generous than is required for his people's holdings which is, again, more than I can say for some Lords under my rule. His men, and he, are always fit and ready for duty. And should we need a muster elsewhere then I know, some place deep in my soul, to the point where I don't even have to think about it, not really, that Helfdan will arrive with somewhere to the tune of a hundred good fighters, fully armed, equipped and provisioned. That, if required, the Wave-Serpent will be available at similar notice and that his lands will be adequately protected against any kind of counter raid.

"Likewise, I know that he will not take advantage of any weakness in any of his fellow lords should they send troops to a clan muster. Indeed, in the past, he has sent warriors to help protect his comrade's lands when they have been taken advantage of in such away.

"As his Jarl, I depend on him utterly. He is not the centre of my line, nor is he the man that I hang the rest of my plans off in the event of a clan action. He does not have the manpower or the equipment for that. But it is reassuring to me that he, at least, will not try and bargain with me as to how many men he sends or keeps behind. He will not try and demand more honour for sending more men. He will not try for concessions in return for sending the men that are his duty after all. He will just do what I require of him as his Lord and then will be happy with what I give him. I never have to bargain with him, or persuade him or make promises in order to get him to do the duty that I require.

"As his Jarl, I know that he is a man of honour and that I can rely upon him. Utterly. As I have said before in my long and rambling speech. If all my Lords were like him. If all the Lords of Skellige, including me, were like him. Then the world would shake at the news of our coming and if we had Imperial ambitions, it would be the Skelligan empire, not the Nilfgaardian, that ruled the world.

I don't think the crowd entirely knew what to make of that. There was not a small amount of consternation as some people thought that they were being criticised, which they were. Some other people thought that they were being praised, which was also true, but still more people were looking at Helfdan and saying to themselves "I have to be like that? I don't want to be like that." The way that Hjalmar said it was as though it was some kind of rousing call to arms but the sentiment was more complicated than that.

He wasn't looking at me, so I couldn't tell whether or not he was laughing, playing a prank, or what his intentions were when he made those statements. Another one of the casualties on the continent that comes with an increase in book learning and the ability to read and write, is that Oratory is a dying skill. The ability to stand in front of a group of people and being able to talk for any length of time is becoming rarer and rarer, to the point where it is in sincere danger of dying out altogether. Not for many years yet I hope.

But the fact that Skellige is an aural society means that that skill is still alive and well in the islands. And although Hjalmar is, rather unfairly, thought of as a man that thinks with his muscles rather than his head, he practises and uses this skill well.

What I can say with certainty, is that he was not displeased with the reaction that he got. He didn't sigh, shake his head, or otherwise look concerned. If anything he looked a little smug and I found myself wondering if he hadn't learned a bit of cunning in the years since his sister ascended the throne. I went on to wonder if he said the things that he said in order to force his people, and the people of Skellige in general, to examine themselves a bit.

Self-examination is never a comfortable way to spend the day. It is necessary sometimes, Flame knows that it can be necessary, but it is never comfortable.

"But I still need to say something." Hjalmar said. "I have heard these rumours about Helfdan's feelings towards my sister before. I have heard every story and I have listened to every rumour. My feelings on the matter of my sister are well known. In the absence of our father, the much missed Crach an Craite, it is my big brotherly duty to inspect, weigh and intimidate any man that might show any kind of interest in my sister. As well as destroy any man that might harm or hurt her in any way."

There was some generalised, good natured laughter. The Queen herself merely raised an interested eyebrow in amusement.

"I will admit that this is made more complicated by the fact that my sister is also my Queen and should she ask for my death then I would give it to her gladly. But there are still some things that I feel I should remind her that I have... opinions on."

There was more laughter. Cerys herself hid a smile behind her hand.

"So I have heard every story about Lord Helfdan's feelings about my sister. I hope that her majesty will forgive me for talking about her in a more familiar tone here."

He bowed towards the throne with a mocking over abundance of flowery gestures. It should be mentioned that although the duties and authority of the monarch is carefully separated from the Jarls, it is also true that the Skelligans have a more... rough and ready approach to how they treat their monarch than we do on the continent. Cerys laughed and nodded to her brother.

"But I have heard every story. Just as I have heard every story regarding many of the other men in this room and their lust for my sister and her power, if not her person."

Something hard and violent glinted in his eyes. Then he stuck his little finger in his ear and twisted it before pulling it out and examining the end before wiping it on his shirt. The movement was comic and defused the tension.

"But, I can't help but notice, that the worst stories told about Helfdan's lustful actions regarding my sister are always said where someone's brother's aunt's nephew saw it. Or some bloke in the tavern. When I first heard these things, before my sister was Queen and before I was Jarl. When I still looked for excuses to show Helfdan how much I disliked him, I would try and hunt down these stories so that I could catch him and properly punish him. But funnily enough I could never find an original witness. Or when I did, they would turn out to be proven liars like Finnvald here.

"When I became Jarl, I had more power to look into it and I found out something interesting. Lord Helfdan has never spoken about his feelings towards my sister. Ever. Not once. To anyone. Nor has he acted on those feelings in any way. He has not tried to pay court to my sister, he has not thrown gifts under her feet or written flowery poems or sent flowers or any of the other things that her many, many suitors attempt, much to her annoyance."

The crowd laughed as Cerys pulled a comical face of annoyance to support her brother's words.

"In truth, The only reason we know about his feelings towards her is because it's so painfully obvious. Not due to his words or actions. But in the way that he perks up when she enters the room. Or when he reddens whenever she speaks to him as a man rather than as Helfdan the Lord and Captain.

"Furthermore, looking into it a bit deeper into Helfdan's behaviour, I discovered that Lord Helfdan has never, even faintly, had even the hint of a rumour about him mistreating a woman. Not once. Not even when he goes a-raiding where the non-people of the continent can be used as a raider sees fit."

His gaze turned humorous again. "Another one of his annoyingly sickening virtues," there was some laughter at this. "But it's again, more than can be said regarding some of my fellows."

"Helfdan's behaviour towards my sister is as flawless as a big brother could desire. I have never felt the need to reprimand him. He has never behaved in any way other than honourably towards her and his behaviour in this matter is something to be aspired to.

"So again, let me state this before Lord Helfdan and the Queen's court. I don't like Helfdan. I cannot call him my friend, nor would I want to. But, if he was of an appropriate rank to court a Queen, and if my sister decided that he was someone that she wanted, I would be glad... I would be proud to call him my brother."

The crowd audibly gasped. Ciri looked thoughtful, while Svein was grinning from ear to ear. Cerys... I couldn't read her face. Caught between pride in her brother as well as a general sense of embarrassment and consideration I thought. But, as I say, I do not know her well enough to guess.

Helfdan's face was stone.

"And people should know," Hjalmar spoke over the groan. "That if any man tells me stories like this again. I shall call him the liar that he is and treat the honour-less wretch like the piece of dog shit that they are."

He tilted his head to one side as though he was thinking. "No, I think that's all I have to say on the matter."

He spun and walked back to the centre of the hall.

"As for the rest of it. Finnvald, I have questions and I suspect that the Queen will have questions. Those questions and your answers are the only thing that are keeping you alive at present and keeping me from casting the rest of your men out of the clan for the disgrace that you heap on them. I will decide what to do with them, and you, later. If you are lucky, I may let you die with a weapon in your hand."

He turned to Gudavsson who stood at Finnvald's shoulder. "Take him from my sight."

"Now my Queen." Hjallmar turned back to Cerys who was watching. "I would hand matters back to you. What would you have us do next?"

He stood aside, coming over and standing next to Helfdan. He made it look so natural and I was left wondering how he managed that without making it look as though he was making a point. Or maybe that was the point itself. Sometimes, being trained as a politician can make a person's head hurt.

Cerys rose to her feet.

"I share my brother's joy at the return of Lord Helfdan and the crew of the Wave-Serpent while I also grieve at the loss of so storied a vessel." She spoke in a more formal, almost sing-song voice. Although I noticed that she didn't use the royal "we".

"I am particularly grateful that Lord Helfdan was able to return my sister to me when I thought her dead and if the court will forgive me a moment of feminine joy."

She abruptly ran over to Ciri and threw her arms round her as the pair of them gave voice to a joy that brought laughter and more than one "awww" to the atmosphere. The tension of Hjalmar's speech faded in the wake of the laughter.

After several minutes, Cerys walked back to the throne, straightening her hair and clothes.

"Now that that, most unqueenly behaviour is out of the way," Cerys straightened the small circlet that she had been using as a crown. Her voice was much more normal now. "I must check with the Empress that the matter of the pirates that attacked one of my longship will be pursued?"

"It will."

"I will await the word of the painful deaths of those responsible." Cerys' eyes flashed and she was suddenly as hard as steel. "We will discuss recompense in private."

Svein had been correct. The two children of the Jarl Crach An Craite were terrifying.

"We shall." Ciri agreed calmly.

Cerys nodded and returned to standing in front of the throne. "In the meantime, Lord Helfdan step forward."

Helfdan moved to where she gestured.

"Lord Helfdan, you should know that I am grateful for the actions of you and your crew and I weep for the losses that your people have suffered in Skellige's name."

"Thank you Majesty."

"But now I must ask about the success of your venture."

"Then I shall hand over to Witcher Kerrass who can speak better to that effect."

Helfdan bowed and swapped places with Kerrass.

"Well Witcher Kerrass?" Cerys lifted an eyebrow. "You left on a mission that many have attempted before and none have succeeded at. A Quest to rid the islands of a menace that has caused untold damage, death and destruction. I cannot be the only person in this hall that is anxious to hear your opinion on the matter. Lord Helfdan is not known to return with a mission undone. But, given all that has happened..." She paused. I am certain she did so for dramatic effect. It worked too. The entire hall seemed to lean forward.

"Can the Skeleton Ship be removed?" She asked.

"It can." Kerrass said clearly.

The hall erupted into shouts, complaints, cheers and all kinds of shouts. Not all of which were happy and acclaiming. The Queen held up her arms and waited for silence.

"Do you know how to do this thing?" she asked.

"I do."

The Queen smiled nastily.

"Will you tell us?"