The one with lunch magic

And so they rode to the city – accompanied by vehement protests on Kit's side who would have preferred to walk there. Geralt held the reins in his hand, Kit sat behind him, her arms holding onto him in a death grip. Anytime he signaled Roach to move faster than a normal trot lead to the air being squeezed out of him.

"You have quite a strong grip for someone with such delicate arms," the witcher wheezed.

"I still don't like riding and you're going too fast!" Kit sounded from behind, her voice muffled as she tried to hide within herself like a tortoise in its shell. "And my butt is starting to hurt."

"And you compensate by hurting me as well?"

"I suppose. But I'm sure this is worse for me than it is for you!"

He silently agreed as he liked the feeling of her lithe body pressing against his. If the circumstances were a little different he might have enjoyed it even more.

Geralt smiled to himself.

When Roach's hooves hit the cobblestone, they halted. Geralt slid off the horse's back effortlessly and lifted Kit off, who seemed to be crippled with fear. When he put her to the ground she blushed and looked away.

As they walked through the city, Kit's head bobbed from left to right and back again. "This is beautiful. These buildings are adorable. The colors! And, oh, do you smell that? It smells delicious! It's unreal how perfect this is. And so many people! I had no idea anyone could be bothered with hiring so many extras. This must be quite expensive."

"What do you mean by extras?" Geralt asked. He was getting more and more used to not understanding a lot of what she said, but every now and then he just had to ask.

"Extras, as in background actors. This really is an immersive experience."

Reality always is, he thought.

Here and there, Kit would flitter off to a stand or small shop and ask questions – questions he could not hear as he was too far away and the surrounding noises too loud.

Despite all these distractions, they reached the shop of Geralt's least despised tailor eventually. He tied Roach up outside before they went in.

"Master Geralt, I have been expecting you!" Before Geralt could even think about a reply, the tall, thin and appropriately extravagantly dressed man continued. "I have taken the liberty to prepare a few choices for you according to the latest fashion." Geralt sighed. He had been coming here for years whenever he needed new attire for one of the Duchess' parties. He had learned early on that it was not acceptable to wear the same thing twice. All his never to be worn again outfits filled a huge trunk in the guestroom. What a waste, he thought. At least Remy was always up to date on these events and would limit the time this ordeal took to a minimum. Hence, he had become Geralt's least despised tailor.

Unlike the shops of the other tailors in town, Remy's always looked a like a storm had just blown through. It took Geralt several visits to understand that the tailor simply preferred to live in his chaos. Fabrics were stacked high up under the ceiling with no apparent order as to color or type of fabric. His tools were always buried under heaps of half-finished clothes or patterns, but Geralt assumed that there was some sort of system to it as Remy always had at hand exactly what he needed. Only the measuring tape was always found in the same place as he wore it like a necklace.

"Thank you, Remy. Will they be as uncomfortable as always?" Geralt grumbled.

Remy did not reply, he only smiled and indicated, with a wave of his long-fingered hand, for Geralt to follow him. The tailor did not mind Geralt's rudeness because he knew it was nothing personal. He had long since accepted the witcher's unwillingness to care about fashion and never took his remarks to heart. He also earned too much from his grumpiest costumer to complain.

"Do you always look like you have been charged with a death sentence when you go shopping?" Kit stifled a giggle. Geralt grunted and followed Remy rather unwillingly, treading carefully to avoid tipping over a stack of rolled up fabrics that would, if its delicate balance was disturbed, bury them like an avalanche.

He was presented with an array of multicolored doublets and tunics, patterned and covered in frills. The mere thought of them made Geralt feel like someone was squeezing his throat.

"The blue one is pretty, it contrasts nicely with your eyes," Kit commented. Geralt agreed insofar as the blue tunic did have the least amount of frills and buttons and all the things the witcher considered unnecessary on a piece of clothing which offered no protection from fangs, claws or swords. However, as to why the color of his eyes was a contributing factor in this decision remained a mystery to him.

"I see, the lady has an eye for things." Remy nodded approvingly. "This is indeed the latest fashion by a currently very popular designer originally from Maribor. Would you like to try it on?"

"Like is a slight exaggeration," Geralt grunted but took the tunic anyway and disappeared behind a folding screen that was supposed to provide some privacy. "Remy, show the lady some options, she will accompany me to the wine festival."

A little while was spent where Remy took measurements to alter the tunic to fit Geralt while he showed dresses to Kit. Geralt was not told what Kit had decided on, he only learned that it was potentially expensive. That part he did not mind since the vineyard generated all the money he could possibly need to live and more.

"So it's gonna be a surprise?" he asked when they had settled down for lunch at a table in the town square. It was well after noon and the sun burned mercilessly. Only the fabric roof of the tent over their heads prevented them from catching on fire.

"No, not really. I just don't like what is currently called fashion and I asked him to make a dress that I would actually want to wear. Seriously, I don't find anything appealing about the Middle Ages, especially not the fashion. That part I won't play along with, if I can avoid it. I'm fairly certain that I wouldn't survive even five minutes in a corset."

"Do you have any experience in making garments yourself?" Geralt asked. He had seen her sketch something out for Remy, who had nodded and agreed to her suggestions concerning some seams, fabrics and whatever darts were.

"Call me a hobby-seamstress. I have made a few things for myself, I know the basics. But, truth be told, when it comes to the actual sewing, I suck. I simply don't have the patience or skill for it. But luckily I won't have to do that myself." She smiled. "Anyway, I'm curious to see how this is going to turn out and if Remy is going to do what I asked for or if he only pretended that he did to get rid off me and I'm gonna end up wearing something odd and look absolutely ridiculous." The nonchalant way in which she said this made Geralt think that she was not bothered by the outcome. "Not that it matters. After all it's just a silly game," she confirmed his suspicions.

Kit paused, her face taking on an earnest expression. "But I am surprised by how well people here can act. I've been asking so many times for a telephone and they all pretended, quite believably so, that they didn't know what that was."

"What is a telephone?" Geralt cautiously asked. He did not really care about the dress. The women always looked stunning, it did not matter what they wore. And in the end, he always preferred if they wore nothing at all. Some things never changed.

"A telephone…" she frowned while she searched for the right words, "It's a device that can immediately connect you to other people who own a similar device. So you can talk to them just as if they were here."

"Like a megascope?" Finally something he could make sense of. Now it was her turn to quizzically look at him.

"Never heard that term before." She shrugged while cutting off another piece of a delicious roast. "I've been keeping an eye on everything. Nobody even glanced at a mobile phone, no cables, no sockets, nothing. No hint at electricity, the internet or anything modern."

"But you still don't believe that this is real?" Geralt cocked his head, doing his best to ignore all those words that he did not understand the meaning of.

"I am a reasonable person. I cannot think of a proper explanation for all of this. I'm inclined to say that the people here are doing a terrific job. Even all those conversations running in the background – not one slip. But what astonishes me most is how nobody is wearing facemasks. I don't know of any part in the world where that would currently be acceptable with the virus raging on. Obviously," she twirled her fork in her fingers, "it would be possible that everybody here has been quarantined for several weeks so that this place is indeed virus free. But I haven't gone through a quarantine so I would potentially be a risk. And that doesn't make sense. That should prove that this is real, that I… I don't know. Travelled back in time or something. Even though time travel, of course, is not possible." Kit's shoulders slumped. "Some singular occurrence or magic or whatever would be a very good way to explain all of this. It seems so much more likely than anyone I know agreeing to me being drugged and abducted. But magic doesn't exist. So… I don't know what to think anymore."

"And if I showed you some magic – would you believe it then?"

Kits looked at him and flashed a big smile. "That promises to be exciting!" She clapped her hands.

Geralt pointed at the candle that stood on the table in between them, snapped his fingers and the candle suddenly lit on fire.

Kit's reaction was disappointing as there was none.

"I don't know. That's not very impressive. Maybe there is a mechanism in the candle that's triggered by sound or something?" Geralt sighed. Difficult customer. He snapped again and the flame extinguished itself. He then took the candle and proceeded to break it into small pieces in front of her eyes. Kit examined them but still did not seem convinced.

"There is probably a thousand other ways to do this. Some very basic chemical reaction maybe."

Geralt felt challenged and frustrated at the same time. He used Aard to blow a wooden bowl filled with fruits from the table. He acted a little more forcefully than he had intended, as innocent bypassers were suddenly attacked by flying apples and grapes. They were not amused but refrained from any protests once they realized who had sent the fruity projectiles their way.

"And now?"

Kit did not reply but Geralt could tell by her changing heartbeat that finally something must have stuck with her. Her expression, however, remained doubtful. He briefly considered using some stronger magic but he was afraid that it might scare her off, make her detest him just like the others did. He had already begun to enjoy her presence and the curiosity surrounding it too much to be willing to risk it. She will probably just come up with alternative explanations anyway, so it might just be a waste of breath, he thought. She could only live in denial for so long, sooner or later she would have to give in.

They spent the rest of their lunch in silence and without fruits for dessert.

On Kit's request Geralt showed her other parts of Beauclair even though he would have preferred to just sit out the worst heat of the day elsewhere.

Kit seemed to enjoy herself very much even though he could tell she was still pondering over the existence of magic. He could not help but once again had to admire the calm and the lack of concern she was displaying to the outside world. Someone else might have been fooled but not him of course.

Hardly anybody was immune to the charm of the city, not even Geralt. Having spent most of his life in the northern parts of the continent, the colorful little houses and the neat cobblestone, shining brightly against the mostly sunny sky, were a stark contrast to the bleakness and greyness of other cities. He often felt that Toussaint was exempted from reality. A little bubble of wide-open plains, beautiful forests, vineyards, crystal-clear streams and lakes, and silly little festivities, unbothered by the rest of the world. Poverty was not as prevalent as in other parts of the continent which probably helped with people's attitude towards the witcher. And the wine too. The wine might have helped the most.

Eventually, they passed a gallery that displayed some pieces of art outside. Kit looked at them intently and then sniggered.

"Geralt, I had no idea you were a nude model. Well done!"

"What are you talking about?" He looked at the picture – it was him, naked on horseback, only the necessities covered by a flowing cloak. Another grunt. "Beginner's mistake." The artist had approached him years ago and asked him to pose for a portrait. The session was interrupted by a griffin-attack and further complicated by a bunch of necrophages who had apparently discovered their artistic inclinations and had stolen the painter's tools. All in all, it had been an eventful afternoon, though not one minute of it was spent naked.

"At least now I know why all the women stare at you whenever you walk by." She smiled cheekily, her eyes fixed on the painted abs of the man on the canvas.

The painter had removed all of his scars. Would Kit still consider him attractive if she knew about them, Geralt wondered.

"Just so you know, I was fully dressed when that picture was painted. And if people look at me it's usually because they recognize me by my hair and eyes. I just happen to be well-known around here for my work." He had very much gotten used to the looks people gave him, as well as the whispered comments about the 'white wolf', and did not really perceive most of them anymore. This afternoon in particular he had spent in blissful ignorance and focused his view on the beautiful shape of his companion. He would be sad to see this odd but revealing outfit be replaced with normal clothing. It was not a coincidence that the tailor, who he had chosen to visit that morning, did not usually stock women's daywear but only made it to order.

"Oh Geralt, don't take me for a fool, please. I recognize a jealous stare when I get one." She grinned widely and then moved on.

Geralt shook his head. It seemed she was so focused on taking in her new environment that she had become completely oblivious to the way people stared at her. The fact that she, as a woman, was wearing pants would have been by itself enough to arouse everybody's curiosity. But the fact that her garments were skintight and left no guesses as to the form of her legs or the way her thighs met her round bottom – it got everybody's attention, men's as well as women's. She probably would have drawn less attention had she been naked. It was merely Geralt's presence that prevented any remarks from reaching her as people would not dare to approach her with him always being close by.

Geralt assumed that wherever she was from, what she was wearing was an acceptable thing to wear – even though he found it hard to imagine. He was not able to otherwise explain how she was so unbothered when parading her appealing form around town like this.

It's been too long, way too long, Geralt thought, and tried to focus on something else.

On their way home, Kit on horseback, Geralt holding the reins, they talked about witchers. He explained to her the signs he could form, his training at Kaer Morhen and why witchers were so despised.

"I don't get it. You risk your life to save people and demand to be paid for it. That sounds quite reasonable to me. Where I'm from, we don't expect others to work for free, particularly not those who save lives while risking their own doing it."

Geralt thought about it for a moment.

"People feel like we take advantage of their situation. The fact that we all look a little worse for the wear doesn't help."

"I'd say your marketing department failed you. Hardly anyone seems to know what you are going through to become who you are. And I bet they only see children-stealing side of things – not the part where each of you was once an innocent child themselves." She paused for a moment. "Though I don't condone taking children as payment for a job. That's just wrong on so many levels."

Geralt gave a dry laugh. "I did it once, as a joke, and did that turn into some mess. But most children were actually given up by their parents. They would beg us to take them so they wouldn't starve."

"What happened to the boy you took?" She sounded cautious, maybe even a little afraid. He did not blame her. What must she think of him knowing only a fraction of the story? While he had claimed the law of surprise, as had been his right, he had later on refused it, had even promised Calanthe that he would never take the child. But destiny had other plans for him.

"She became the best witcher out there. She occasionally visits me but is mostly out and about to explore. That is, when she's not too busy being the empress of Nilfgaard." It had only been a couple of months since Ciri's last visit. She was probably not going to turn up again for another year. But he was not sad that the girl, who was so dear to him, did not come by more often. He knew she was living life to the fullest, just as she should after all the things they had been through. While he still disagreed on the way she did it, he knew it was the best for her.

"She? I thought girls couldn't survive the trial of the grasses?" Kit asked astounded.

Geralt remembered his own trial which had given him his cat-eyes and the white hair. How they kept trying more things on him since he was so much more resilient than the others.

"She did not have to. She… already possessed certain powers." He did not go into further detail. The whole ordeal had been exhausting and he preferred not to think about that time and instead focus on the moment. For the last few years this had become his mantra and dwelling on the past did not do him any good.

"So, how does a witcher turn into vintner anyway?" Kit asked when they walked past the fields of grapevines. Geralt stopped every now and then to check on the fruits. It would soon be time to harvest.

"That's a long story."

"I've got time and nowhere else to go," Kit prompted.

The witcher scratched his head, not quite sure where to start. "It was about ten years ago. The Duchess sent for me to find and kill what had been known as the 'Beast of Beauclair'. After it had already killed several knights, she figured it was a witcher's job rather than a knight's job. Corvo Bianco was my reward."

"What kind of monster was it?" Kit dismounted Roach in her usual clumsy manner as her foot nearly got stuck in the stirrup. Hopeless, Geralt thought, as he caught her at the waist and only let go once both her feet were safely planted on the ground. Kit cursed softly under her breath. Geralt was pleased when he noticed that her heartrate had picked up a little when he held her.

"It was a higher vampire. Technically at least. It turned out he was blackmailed by the Duchess' sister who was the vampire's former lover. She had staged her own kidnapping and Detlaff, that was his name, received threats that she was going to be hurt if he didn't kill certain people in a given manner."

"Uh, the Duchess has an evil sister? Just like a soap opera!" Kit exclaimed. "What happened then?"

"It took us a while to figure this out. Detlaff demanded an explanation from her but the Duchess had her sister locked up in a book of fairy tales in order to protect her. As a result, Detlaff decided to wreak havoc on the city."

"The Duchess locked her sister in a book? With fairytales?" Kit looked at him, her expression somewhere between confusion and serious doubts about Geralt's mental capabilities.

"Yes. Weird family."

"I have so many questions." Kit scratched her head. "Okay, first of all: How do you lock someone in a book?"

"Magic," Geralt commented nonchalantly while inspecting the grapes of the plant in front of him. He removed a single grape and chewed on it contemplatively.

"Sure. Magic." Kit groaned. "Okay, what about: Why did the Duchess' sister want to kill these people? What was her motive?"

"She, as the older sister, should have become the Duchess. But she was born under the curse of the black sun and it seems her parents looked for an excuse to strip her of her birth right and get rid of her. The men she ordered to kill were the ones to remove her from the palace when she was just a child. From what I know, they did not treat her very well."

"Geralt?"

"Yes?" He looked at her quizzically.

"You suck at telling stories. You're not making much sense."

Geralt shrugged. "I have other qualities, I've been told."

"Like?"

"Maybe I'll show you some day."

She looked at him, confusion displayed on her face, his innuendo completely lost on her.

Geralt sighed. The cultural divide between the two of them was nearly tangible in a moment like this. He found it very difficult to read her at times but occasionally realized that it must feel the same way to her. Whenever they talked, her blue eyes showed understanding or confusion, but never the hate or disgust he dealt with most of the time. He had been somewhat reluctant to tell her about witchers, fearing she might judge him or hate him as most people did. But she did not, she just accepted it, sometimes pitied him, sometimes even showed a hint of admiration. To Geralt, this was special and he enjoyed not being judged on the basis of his genetics but merely on his character.

He wondered what her world was like and if all people there would show him the same kindness as Kit did.

It would be while before they were even close to properly understanding each other, that much was obvious to him.