On The Path

### Summary

The three youngest Witchers of the Wolf School find themselves tasked with a journey to Novigrad, both due to attend a Royal Inauguration and in pursuit of a mysterious contract.

### Main Character/s

* Aradann
* Egill
* Freya

### Soundtrack/s

* Kaer Morhen
* Remembrance

The midday sun had risen, its rays gleaming over the land at it sat atop the clear blue sky. Bathed in the light stood the fortress of Kaer Morhen, home to the School of the Wolf Witcher caste. Although the fortress itself was old beyond measure, hardly any alive remembering when exactly it was first constructed, it stood proud and strong. The damage that had been done to it three decades ago during the siege by the Wild Hunt had been largely repaired, and the fortress itself improved upon and
upgraded. While there were those that were still in their beds, Aradann was outside, training with the pendulum. Ever since he was a child he had always been an early riser, and that had not changed once he had arrived at Kaer Morhen all those years ago. He stood atop the beams, his feet rooted on the wood, as he watched the spiked log swing to and fro, keeping his cat-like eyes fixated on it at all times. Just as it completed a motion, he cartwheeled through the air, drawing his steel blade and arcing it backwards, before landing perfectly on the beams opposite. He waited until the log had ceased its motion and then observed. There, clear as day was a newly dug
gouge in the wood. He nodded in approval before setting the pendulum to a swing once more. With nearly twenty years since he had left Crow's Perch, Aradann had become one of the new generation of the School of the Wolf. During that time he had grown into a Witcher in his own right, having already completed a number of contracts and earning himself minor renown. Returning to the pendulum, he pirouetted once again at the last swing and ran his sword across the bark before the log could touch him. Pleased with the session, he flipped down from the beams and walked over to the courtyard weapons rack, placing the training sword back onto one of the holding rails. Satisfied, he realised he had worked up an appetite from the training, and realised he must have been out here for hours, as he arrived in the courtyard at daybreak, the sky now fresh and alive.

Making his way into the keep, he headed towards the kitchens, where as usual he found a frantic Gisela. The Gnome woman had come to Kaer Morhen almost fifteen years ago, once the Nilfgaardian Empire had begun to donate reasonable sums towards the Witcher guilds in an effort to help rebuild the caste for the good of the land. Along with many other improvements to the keep, Eskel had hired Gisela as the resident cook, and although the miniscule woman did not seem up to the task at the first glance, what with the entire kitchen being taller than her, she was quite the culinary genius. Her excellent cooking however, meant she was quite the perfectionist, and constantly worried over this, that and everything that could be worried over in her line of work.

“Morning Gisela, anything to......” Aradann was interrupted by an tin-sounding echoing, as Gisela, stood upon a large stool, had her head and shoulders delved into a cauldron.

“I need more turnips! Master Eskel is expecting turnip soup for dinner tonight and we haven't got nearly enough! Where is that bloody troll?!” As if on cue, Bart appeared from round the corner, his footsteps almost thundering on the stone as he plodded lazily along.

“Bart.....here. Gisela more...want rocks?” He hadn't quite mastered her name even after so many years, still pronouncing her as Giz-ellar, although she had seemed to accept it.

“Not rocks you bloody fool! Turnips!” If she was trying to sound intimidating or cross, the intention was lost as from the cauldron her acoustic voice sounded far more humorous.

“Errr......is.....what.....terrrrr-nip?” Gisela screeched, and pulled herself up, looking directly towards Bart with a face like
thunder.

“Turnips! We've been over this a thousand times Bart, turnips, in the garden, vegetables for soup!” Bart paused, scratching his head.

“Soup.....soup....ter-nip.....oh! Soup!” She sighed and held her face in her tiny hand.

“Yes, soup you blundering bag of rocks.” Bart's face lit up.

“Rocks!” Aradann didn't know whether to laugh of feel uncomfortable, being caught in the crossfire of the conversation.

“Would you like me to go fetch some turnips Gisela? I've been outside all morning so it's no problem.” Suddenly the face of the gnome changed from fury to sickly sweetness.

“Oh would you dear? Only we don't want to go upsetting Master Geralt. After all, its due to his kindness we're all here.” She rolled her eyes towards Bart. “And take this lug with you, and for Melitele's sake, get him to remember what a turnip is.” Aradann led Bart out into the courtyard, meandering towards the vegetable patches. As they crossed the threshold however, Bart stopped, seemingly staring into space.

“Bart?” Aradann enquired.

“Hmmmmmm.” the troll answered in return. Aradann looked over to the direction in which Bart's gaze was fixed, trying to see what had caught his attention, although all he could see was one of the high walls.

“Copper for your thoughts?” the man said, trying to gauge some idea of Bart's sudden pause.

“Many rocks......good rocks. Good rocks. Rocks make strong tallrocks....no boom!”

He emphasised the 'boom' by throwing his hands into the air. Aradann sighed. Just when he thought Bart had picked up on something........but then again, he was a Rock Troll, and they had a very limited mindset.

“Come on, let's grab some turnips, Gisela's waiting.” Bart nodded his head, lumbering along, apparently now singing to himself.

“Terrrrnip. Terrrrnip. Terrrrnip.” Aradann set about gathering some of the vegetables, pulling out his knife and using it to uproot them. Bart meanwhile, plodded along to the turnip patch and plunged a fist into the soil, ripping out a turnip, coupled with a mound of soil covered in worms and woodlice.

“Ter-nip.” he mused, looking to Aradann with a look longing for praise on his face. Aradann rolled his eyes and chuckled seeing the earth-covered vegetable in Bart's hand, but was glad Bart seemed to be on the right track.

“Dig a few more up and then we'll take these to Gisela.” Bart happily complied, and soon had a bundle of turnips in his arms, although he had left several wide holes in the turnip patch. Aradann would surely be covering them up at a later time.

“I think that's enough for now, come on.” He began to walk back with the troll in his stead, making his way to the kitchen, with Bart happily humming to himself, no doubt some lyrical concoction about rocks.

Gisela was still stood atop her stool, mixing the contents of the cauldron when she saw the Witcher and the troll in his stead.

“Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “Just what I....” She then saw the mounds of soil and insects that clung to Bart's turnips and sighed wearily. “Just put them on the side.” Aradann couldn't help but give a small grin.

“At least he knows
what a turnip is now, isn't that right Bart?” he said, turning to him.

“Terrr-nip!” Bart said, pleased with himself. Aradann turned to Gisela.

“I have to be going, chores to do.” The woman made no acknowledgement as she had already dived back into her cauldron as he walked away, leaving Bart to stare into the distance. Arriving back in the courtyard, Aradann made his way towards the stables, where he was due to give Bheith his daily clean. As the fortress loomed above, Aradann's eyes went towards the tallest tower, his gaze displaying a tinge of pity. The inhabitants of Kaer Morhen all knew that while it was Eskel who formally ran Kaer Morhen, the official head of the school was Geralt, although ever since he had lost Ciri to the White Frost he had become more and more of a recluse, eventually losing his relationship with Yennefer and most of his former friends. Thus Geralt spent most of the time locked away in his study, with no one seeing him for weeks, even months on end. Aradann sighed at the thought as he came to Bheith. The horse whinnied as Aradann approached.

“Good to see you to boy. Come on, let's get this coat cleaned.”

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Egill had woken up early. Before the sun had risen over the horizon, he was trekking up a cliff nearby the castle structure. Below him was a running river, while outside was the beautiful night. He could feel the wind against his skin and the song of the whistling trees around him. He had been training vigorously, both physically and mentally. In his free time, he had used unorthodox methods of Witcher training to cover every area of conditioning his person. While some of the Witchers remained in doors, he had spent alot of his time outside the grounds. Carrying only his swords with him, he'd find the wild animals and creatures around Kaer Morhen and taken them on strategically. Spending hours studying movements of Drowners, calculating how wild wolves hunted, and taking on grizzly bears, he had attempted to hone his skills to the best of his ability. He had stuck around books as well, reading about different ways to kill witches, Chorts, Kernun's and Fiends. Now, he was on top of a cliff to test his technique and skill. He made sure the straps to his swords were secured. Then, he slowly made his way towards the edge of the cliff. He took a deep breath in, then exhaled and leaned forward. He fell down, feet first. He picked up speed quickly as he crashed into the rushing water. It felt ice cold against his skin. He opened his eyes to see nothing but darkness. He spread his arms and legs aside to gain momentum. The water moved him faster than he anticipated, though he remained calm. As he managed to get up to the surface, he took in a deep breath of air. He could see where the water ended up ahead to a waterfall. He floated, up until he came seconds away from the drop. Pushing himself off of the edge, he rolled his arms and legs as he dropped down yet again. Plummeting down into a small lake, he rose from the depths of it minutes later. Here was a small cove of trees, a rocky shore and brush. To someone who was not familiar with the area, it may have looked peaceful, but in reality, it was home to a large amount of Drowners. And it was as if they had smelled him the second Egill had came from the lake and onto the shore. The had crawled out of their pathetic dark corners and had crept out into the open. Egill took his silver from his back sheath.

"Come on then!" The sound of his voice made three Drowners pounced towards him. All in mid-air, Egill grabbed the hilt of the sword and swung it, heavily across his right side. All three fell back but came back to their feet to face him again. Egill used Aard to send them flying back off their feet. The effect scared the other remaining Drowners back into the shadows, yet they watched carefully. Egill stepped forward confidently, as his right hand which was free burned with Igni.

"Aaarrrrhh!" The shot from his hand burst forward as a sea of flames ignited the blue monsters. They laid there, burnt into crispy versions of their former selves. Egill looked out to the darkness where he knew the others were. His fight against the Drowner hive would move until early morning. He'd make his way back to the School as the sun had risen just halfway off of the horizon.

Egill had made up to the water bridge. He had his shirt, still wet from the river thrown over his right shoulder. He had gashes and slice marks across his chest and back, but had tended to them accordingly before making his way back. They were however still fresh and bright red. Nothing a little rest couldn't take care of. He could smell turnips being cooked and smirked under his stubbled beard, seeing the that damned troll giving Gisela rocks in exchange for actual ingredients. Turning the corner and moving towards the stables and the courtyard, he spotted Aradann tending to his horse.

"Good morning Aradann." He said. He hadn't remembered the last time he had seen his fellow Witcher out and about. Then again, he hadn't made the effort to show his face out in public recently either.

"Good to see you. Although I can say I haven't seen much of anyone lately. Rightfully my fault of course." He came next to him and watched Bheith move its head around.

"I take it you haven't seen Master Geralt around, have you?" He shook his head in disappointment. He used his right hand to rub Bheith's snout.

"I fear his seclusion is more than just grieving. It's been so long. Emotional wounds are hard to mend. Yet I feel like time isn't the only thing Geralt needs to feel better." He patted Bheith's snout and looked at Aradann with a raised brow.

"But enough of that. How would you, my fellow Witcher, like to join me for lunch? I'm sure Gisela isn't finished cooking with that wretched troll at her side, but we can catch up over mead. Maybe a little sparring afterwards? Hunting Drowners always puts me in a jousting mood. So?" If Aradann had refused, Egill nodded with a puckered bottom lip.

"Worth the ask then. I'll be seeing you then friend." And he'd leave to move towards the kitchen. If Aradann had accepted the request, Egill would raise his arms up in the air. "Huzzah! I knew there was someone other then myself who wasn't dried of personality around here! Come!" He'd lead them back to the main entrance of the Witcher Quaters. Moving past the wooden doors, he put an arm over Aradann's shoulders.

"You should come training with me some time. I've come to the brink of death twice this week. But what better way to hone oneself than to test untracked waters? I've seen you in battle and might I say--" Egill widened his eyes and opened his mouth in amazement. "It would be a treat to fight with you. Or against." He patted Aradann on the chest playfully. Turning around another corner, he stopped just before the kitchen. Letting go of his arm off of Aradann, he removed his damp shirt and pulled it over his head to put on. "Gisela!" He gestured towards her with open arms. "How wonderful it is to see you this morn! Strikingly fierce and scary as always.." As he came next to her, Gisela hit him with wooden spoon.

"Fierce and scary enough to beat you dead! And why are your clothes all wet? Do you enjoy bathing in the rivers? Or are you just daft?" Egill winced. The spoon had hit one of his cuts.

"Not necessarily cleaning myself out in those rivers but daft, yes." He chuckled as she pushed him aside to serve a large pot of turnip soup.

"Come, come. Help yourselves," She set the table, then seeing Aradaan. "Come, come. Take a seat." Egill gave Aradann a sporty grin before making himself comfortable. "My, my. Turnip soup. Delicious." He made himself a bowl and then seeing the table empty of people aside from Aradann, he rose a curious brow.

"Where are the others?"

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“How do you manage to get so covered in muck when I haven't even taken you out for a ride yet?” Aradann chuckled as he rinsed Bheith's coat over with soapy water, the horse neighing happily, as if almost laughing in return. While Aradann possessed a loving bond with the horse that could not be measured, there was an annoyance that came along with Bheith's white coat, which was incredibly easy to become dirt ridden without the horse even seeming to do anything. The one way conversation was broken however when a voice greeted Aradann, who turned his head in reaction to see Egill standing there with a grin on his face, a wet shirt flung over his shoulder and what looked like fresh gash marks. Aradann instinctively sniffed the air, coming to a swift conclusion.

“Drowners. I didn't hear anything about any of us taking on a contract for them.” He jested of course, knowing full well that Egill was notorious for what some considered alternative methods of training, such as wandering off for days at a time to pit himself against creatures for the pure sake of testing his own capabilities. In a way, Aradann admired the man's brashness, as he himself was more of a calculated type, although some of Egill's exploits had almost got him killed. His thoughts turned as Egill mentioned Geralt, and Aradann's face turned into a frown. Although they would catch the occasional glimpse of Geralt, it had been well over a decade since Yennefer, his lover of yore had finally broken things off with him, unable to deal with his broken lifestyle that stemmed from the only person he ever considered a child, sacrificing herself for the good of the world. “I fear you're right. At this point, I'm not sure what will help him.”

As the subject changed, his face morphed back into a pleasant smile, especially at the thought of lunch with an old friend. “Sure, I need a break from this anyway. And I'm sure we could get some practice in.” Clearing the brushes and bucket away, Aradann and Egill made their way inside where Gisela had now brewed up her famous Turnip Soup, no doubt with no help from Bart. When Aradann had first arrived at Kaer Morhen the troll had become a recent fixture of the fortress, and terrified the boy. However in the years since, Aradann had become accustomed to him, and found Bart's mannerisms highly entertaining, a view that was not shared by some of the castle's inhabitants. It was only then that Aradann's thoughts broke off as the sound of one of Gisela's wooden spoons beating Egill echoed through the kitchen, berating him yet again for his actions. Gisela was hugely unpredictable in her ways, being motherly and kind one minute while becoming a demonic force to be reckoned with the next. Aradann couldn't help but smirk as the tiny statured woman mercilessly overpowered a grown Witcher with a wooden spoon, before inviting them both down to eat, serving the both bowls of soup before either could abject. As they ate, Egill brought up the subject of the other residents whereabouts. Aradann shrugged, gulping down a mouthful before speaking.

“Not sure. Freya's probably sleeping in, she's not on a contract at the moment. I heard Eskel is sorting something out with regards to the school finances in his solar. Lambert...” he paused. “No idea. But I wouldn't put whatever it is past him getting in some sort of fight somewhere.” Finally finishing his meal, Aradann excused himself while he went to his room to fetch his steel word Tyr, in preparation for the sparring session. He shortly returned with the blade holstered on his back, wearing the same loose linen shirt, pants and leather boots he had been wearing all day. “Well, shall we?” he said to Egill, making his way into the courtyard. He found a spot to position himself, unsheathing Tyr and flexed his right wrist, spinning the blade round several times. The blade itself gleamed in the sun, with the runes etched into the metal glowing a burning red. It had been a fair while since he had last sparred with his friend, with both men having been absent from the fortress for some time on contracts until recently. He waited until Egill joined him before clarifying the details of the match. “Ok, so rules are no potions, no bombs, no oils. Pure sword and sign combat.” He twirled Tyr once more before pointing the tip towards Egill. “Your move.”

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After Egill had finished his own bowl of turnip soup, he joined Aradaan into the main halls back to where their rooms were located. He passed by a set of stairs that led up to Geralt's Quaters. He glanced over to it reluctantly, then lowered his head and continued on. "Let me get into better battle gear," turning a corner and entering into his breezy room. "I'll meet you outside in a few moments." The window inside was broken and had given way to constant wind, having bothered Egill over a span of three months. After the fourth, his body had conditioned itself. Inside his room was plates of armour and pelts from different animals and creatures. He had vials and an alchemy set in the far upper left of his room, still steaming with unknown mixtures and chemicals. On his bed lay some spare clothes he had left out for himself the night before to change into. Changing quickly, he turned his attention to the wall where his dresser was. On it was his silver and steel sword propped up against the wood. The ones he had brought for the training earlier were spare swords that were stacked in the common area for rune testing and or forging. He took the hilt of Dancer and swung it over his shoulder. Coming into the courtyard now, the wind had welcomed him first. He spotted Aradaan and his sword. The beautiful red etchings made him grin sportingly. "Put any number of runes in that sword of yours, it still won't protect you from me." He grabbed the sheath to Dancer and flung it outward. The sound of metal scraping against leather echoed through the courtyard, along with the 'thud' of the sheath. Dancer shone brilliantly. It had no runes, but the heaviness of mastercrafted metal.

"Your move." Egill grinned at the challenge, twirling the blade once with his wrist.

"So it is." He sprinted forward and performed the Quen sign. A bright yellow light glazed over his body once, then disappeared into an invisible layer; it had been the exploding shield variation. He'd raise his sword above his head and aim to swing down the bladed side on Aradaan's skull.

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'Clink-Klunk' She took a breath. 'Klunk-Clink' Sweat dripped down her forehead. 'Clink-Clink-Klunk'.... 'Ssssizzle' A gleaming sword emerged from the steaming water to be examined by scrutinizing yellow eyes.

"Not good enough." the brunette's smooth, low voice sounded in the empty forge. She placed the sword back into the fire and waited, wondering what she was doing wrong. The edge should be somewhat sharp by now, only needing it's final grinding, yet it was still too dull to even begin giving it a deadly edge. Sighing to herself, she pulled it out of the fire and began hitting it again, working on it for several more hours before admitting defeat for the night and heading back to her room.

Freya had gotten up long before the sun, not being able to sleep, and had returned to the forge to practice her craft. Now the sun was up and her stomach was demanding food. 'After I wash off' she thought as she opened her door and took a quick bath. Stepping out of the now cool water she dried off then donned her usual outfit; a snug, deep redish-brown sleeveless leather doublet with matching pants and her black leather jerkin. She threw her hair up into a high wavy ponytail that stopped just above her ample rear before grabbing her twin swords and heading to the kitchen. Seeing the gnome woman making soup caused Freya to smile before she grabbed an apple and a piece of bread then walked out to the training area. She had hoped to get some time with a dummy, or another Witcher, but instead she saw Aradann and Egill sparing. 'This should prove entertaining.' she thought as she leaned against a pillar and watched the two males begin their spar.

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Aradann waited for Egill's reaction, knowing his fellow Witcher would never waive an option to take the offensive. And as usual, Egill did just that, rushing forward with blade in hand. Aradann analysed his opponent carefully as with a quick motion, Egill produced the Quen sign. Knowing the man, he had long favoured the exploding shield variation ever since he had learned it during their teenage years, using it to surprise opponents. Aradann however had his own methods for dealing with Egill's more offensive style. In the seconds before his fellow Witcher attacked, Aradann also cast Quen, but opting with a small hand movement to produce the Discharge variation. While both combatants were now protected with the Witcher's shield, if Egill's blade were to strike Aradann, the force of the blow would instead be projected back onto Egill himself. While equally trained, Aradann had always been the more defence-orientated of the two, preferring to tire an opponent and wear them down rather than overcome them with force. A Witcher would face many opponents throughout their life whose strength outclassed their own, therefore Aradann had always been one to believe that strength alone was futile. He gripped Tyr's handle tight as he waited for the blow to land, hoping that Egill's overconfidence would once again be his downfall.

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Pushing down with all of his might, Egill was sure that Aradaan was keeping himself open on purpose. His eyes had caught a quick glimpse of Aradaan's hand doing a motion but it was too late to pull back from the dedicated attack. As the sword fell down, it passed Aradaan's head and onto his right shoulder. The metal hit, but instead of slicing through clothing and into flesh, it had sent Egill's sword backwards and over his head. Egill, dumbfounded, tried to stabilize his sword from flying completely backwards by rooting his feet. He could've been mistaken but he was sure Aradaan didn't block his attack. His clothing nor armour would've produced protection hard enough to shoot it back at him either. Then he remembered seeing his hand earlier and how open he kept himself. Always a step ahead of him. Egill was genuinely awed, and vulnerable for the seconds he tried to keep from falling. After regaining his balance, he hopped back a few feet with a smile crossing his face.

"Hm," He looked at his arms and felt the weight of his body drop a little from the absence of his Quen. "Managed to block my attack while taking out my own methods of armour. Interesting tactic. Although," He stood upright and snared his teeth at his friend. "Playing defensive won't get you anywhere when you're fighting me," He began circling him like a predator would before pouncing on its prey. "Requires more than avoiding me."

Before he charged again, he spotted Freya off in the distance leaning against a pillar. He paused, then motioned her to join them. "Seem's things will get more interesting after all. Freya! Come forth!" He looked back at Aradaan who was assumed to be standing in his defensive position. "Just like the old days.." He whispered to himself, remembering when they were younger and eager, naive and carrying much more fire in them, once upon a time ago. Now they stood against each other in battle to dictate the best. If Freya joined, Egill would distance himself ten feet between Freya and fifteen from Aradaan.

"Let us begin once more." Egill grabbed his sword with two hands again and switched his stare between Aradaan first, then Freya. Freya, being the smaller Witcher would prove useful for distraction against Aradaan. But with how small she was, she was that much more agile than Aradaan and himself. If he could manipulate her attacks and guide them to Aradaan between close quarters, he could kill two birds with one stone. Both were skilled nonetheless. Aradaan being more defensive and playing on his opponents move's while turning them into his own stamina, and Freya who was quicker on her feet and faster hitting in battle. Again, he charged forward towards Aradaan. Freya was assumed to be on his left side. His pupils glanced to her briefly, taking note of where she was. If she'd move between the seconds he had looked while approaching Aradaan, he'd know. Acting accordingly would be another factor. As he got closer to Aradaan, he swung right. If Aradaan had dodged or avoided it, he would push his left palm outwards producing an Aard Shockwave. This would undoubtedly throw him off his feet. Once he was air borne, Egill would sprint forward passed him. Beside him, he rose his sword again to swipe down in between his rib cage and hip bone.

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Freya watched as the two sparred, while munching slowly on her apple and bread. She had seen both signs the men had made, and couldn't help the small smile that touched her lips when Aradann predicted Egill's move and outclassed it with ease. Thelook of surprise on Egill's face coaxed a small chuckle from her. As he moved to catch himself, she watched Aradann. He was on the defensive. She he knew he preferred to draw out a fight and wear out his opponent then go for the killing blow, while Egill liked to use his strength to defeat his enemy as quickly as he could. The hunter and the warrior. As Egill circled Aradann she watched on, amused. The two men had always been friends of hers, and the three had grown up together. Freya felt that the two were the older brothers she had always wanted. They might bicker sometimes, but those two always had her back when she needed it. 'Just as I have theirs' she thought. Egill's eyes met hers and his usual smile split his face as he invited her to join.

"If you think you can handle me Egill." she jested back at him. She finished her apple, the bread long gone, and stepped forward drawing her steel sword, Ciaran, leaving her silver sword, Nasrin, in her sheath on her back. Stepping forward, her face blank with concentration, she evaluated her options. She could wait for Egill to attack Aradann and then strike him quickly, or she could go after Aradann and coordinate her attack with Egill. She could also stay just out of range and let the two men wear each other out then go for the kill. 'Who's the bigger threat?' she thought as her eyes scanned Egill as he struck forward. While Egill was ferocious, Aradann's fighting style was similar to her own which meant that they both could fight for long periods of time without tiring, something Egill feel short of with his powerful blows. A draw was the likely out come if she faced him alone. Egill wasn't as patient as Aradann and would force her to use her energy to defend herself. While she might outlast him, there was always the possibility he would get in a quick lucky strike and she would go down. Both men were worthy opponents. 'Aradann won't be fooled by any ploys, nor will any signs go unnoticed by him... But Egill had improved since the last time we sparred. Hard choice... I'll let fate decide.' she thought as she waited for the two mens' attention to be focused on each other. As Egill swung his sword and Aradann dodged or blocked it she made the Yrden sign with her hand, setting her trap on the courtyard ground off to the side of the two men and slightly in front of her. Now all that was left to do was wait and see if Aradann or Egill sprung it first.

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Nothing went unobserved by Aradann, as Egill fell for his ploy. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure standing there, silent as the grave and watching the two men with a calm focus. All too apparently, Egill had also noticed, calling out Freya to join them, which she seemed to accept after a few moments. Aradann's attention meanwhile had not been taken off Egill, who now sprung into his second phase of attack. The three were now positioned in somewhat of a large triangle, with Egill headed straight for him, his blade drawn ominously. Aradann surveyed his options, noticing that Freya was doing exactly the same, her fingers flicking stealthily. 'Clever girl' he thought to himself upon analysing what she had done. As she pushed her palm forward, Egill's sword came hurtling from the right. Having no shield activated, Aradann had two choices: block or dodge. He knew however, that there was a logic behind Egill's simplistic move, and could only wait for it to play out as he finally decided to dodge under the blow and sidestep. His deduction had been correct, as once he had avoided the blade, he was knocked off his feet by a well-timed Aard wave. 'Shit.' he thought to himself as he lost his footing, kicking himself for having fallen to such a simple trap. Hitting the floor he rolled backwards until his feet touched the
ground once more, propping himself up on one knee. He once more weighed up his options. Now that Freya had occupied a position in the spar, he had two opponents to worry about. Egill however was the priority to remove. While his style could be somewhat sloppy at
times, his raw power outclassed Aradann's own, as well as that of Freya's. If he could be lured into the Yrden trap, providing of course that he had not been astoundingly observant, it could at least immobilise him for enough time to lower the risk of the competition. Or perhaps if Egill could be unarmed, at least his sword blows would not possess a threat. Aradann decided on his move. Springing up, he darted towards Egill, passing by Freya and drawing Tyr back as if to strike, before dropping to his knees moments before he collided with the other man and sailed between his legs, though not before casting the sign for Igni. Flames sprouted from his fingertips and wrapped themselves around the hilt of Egill's sword. Aradann finished up with a forward roll back onto his feet, turning around to survey the outcome of his plan.

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Seeing Aradaan drop to one knee, Egill estimated the time he needed to plan his next strike. It wasn't often that Aradaan would fall to simple tactics. If he could remember correctly, Aradaan had always been the best out of the three. And Egill didn't mind. Instead of envying his friend, he saw the potential he carried to become a great Witcher. Lambert and Eskel had no doubt in their mind that Aradaan would be the one to carry on Kaer Morhen's legacy of stellar Witchers. Egill stared at Aradaan, locking eyes with him briefly. He let his guard down unknowingly, studying his friend for the first time in awhile. It wasn't his movements, or his attacks he was examining but his 'aura.' His certain vibe that he carried about him. But his thought process was soon to be interrupted as he saw Aradaan sprint forward before sliding under his legs. He tightened his grip on his hilt to turn and counter his slide but instead was met with what felt like hot metal being pulled out from the kiln. It was focused right on his right hand and 'hissed' for a few seconds before he was disarmed completely.

"Ah!" He opened his palm as the metal clanked against the cement ground. His skin contracted with third degree burns. He held his wrist with his other hand to momentarily stop whatever blood flow was coming through, and to cooperate with the pain. Wincing, he turned to Aradaan who was assumed to be looking back. "Tch. Suppose fighting a grizzly bear with my bear hands won't match to you man who can use fire to burn my bloody skin off." He chuckled, turning over to Freya who was standing there studying them both. "Maybe a few more seconds in, you might've caught us both at a stalemate. Good job studying, before moving in for the kill Freya! Gods only know what would happen," He paused, changing his glance over to Aradaan. "If you figured out your patterns. Hahaha." He looked at his palm which had some blotches of burnt skin, but nothing a few medicinal supplies couldn't fix. "I'm out for the count though. Rather short but beneficial spar, to the both of you. You learn something new...everyday." He trailed off but not before picking up Dancer. He let them continue on as he moved up the steps and back into the main quarters of the building. He had Dancer in his left hand, point facing down. He lifted it and threw it up to catch the blade with his hand. Surprisingly, it hadn't cut him. He stuffed the blade inside a spare sheath and continued to the middle part of the room. Finding a seat, he sat down and and found a glass bottle laying around. "I know we have White Honey laying around here somewhere--..." The sounds of metal and glass clanking underneath a desk and then sliding a box aside, Egill managed to find some he had been hiding in case of another Swallow overdose. He had been injured previously and took the Swallow potion to heal his wounds. Bad went to worse when he felt it wasn't working quickly enough and OD'ed on it. Thankfully, Lambert had made White Honey to rid him of the toxicity level. Egill had learned the recipe and made some of his own, keeping aside in case of another accidental case like that. A good amount of Swallow was sitting in a big red jar on a cupboard to his left. He had grabbed it and un-capped the wooden plug on it.

"Eeuch.." His nose had caught the strong scent of it which made his nose flare and his eyes water a little. "Note to self.." He gulped and then drank half of the bottle. "....Yiiuc...make better tasting Swallow if possible." He instantly felt the menacing side effects of the vile potion and immediately went to grab the White Honey. He stumbled back into his seat, grabbing the side of the table. Veins protruded from his temples and his neck; the Swallow had taken into his blood stream, taking care of his wounds. His Drowner cuts from before and the burns from his right hand began healing slowly. "Mmmggr..." He grumbled, taking the white honey. It felt like honeysuckle spirits down this throat, calming his body of the stinging sensation. The veins had disappeared and Egill leaned back on the wooden seat, relieved. "Damn you Witcher concoctions...evil, disgusting things..."

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'Damn' she thought as both Egill and Aradann avoided her trap. 'Fuck me...' her inner voice exclaimed when Aradann made his move and disarmed Egill, ultimately knocking him out of the spar. She had really been hoping that Egill would be the one she ended up going one on one with, seeing as out of the two men he was the one she had the highest chance of beating. Not to say he would have been easy to beat. Just that her chances would have been better.

"You did good Egill, reminds me to keep on my toes round you." she replied as he went to walk away. Now she an Aradann stood facing each other, her trap between them. Freya had no doubt that he knew it was there, that was just how perceptive he could be. He seemed to notice the littlest things, more so then many of the other older Witchers. While not quite a prodigy, he always seemed to grasp or master things much quicker than even someone like Geralt had been known to, at least in her opinion. The thought of their leader caused her eyes to glance briefly up to his tower. This lasted a mere moment, not long enough for her to be in any danger of not having time to react if Aradann had started an attack. She twirled Ciaran twice, more out of habit then nervousness while her yellow cat-like eyes watched her opponent looking for any movement, any twitch, that would tell her his thoughts or next action. Sighing internally she stepped forward, skirting her sign of it remained, and readied herself. She would rather get this over with then have a staring contest with Aradann. In between the space of a breath she shot forward her sword at the ready, aiming for a horizontal strike that if blocked would lock their swords together in an X, and if he dodged would still allow her time to spin and block or dodge his counter. She was going to take a page from Egill's book and use a sign, but which one would be the tricky part. 'This is gonna hurt, but if it works I might actually win.' she thought.

The moment their swords crossed, or her sword went past him her hand would for the sign for Yrden right under the two of them. If she had timed it right, she would be able to use the momentum of her attack and the blast to put distance between them, while also sending Aradann flying, possibly injuring him enough to disable him. 'Luck be on my side today, please' she thought as she thrust her hand forward to activate the sign.

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Though it carried risk, Aradann's move against Egill had worked. The flames produced by the Igni sign had erupted and hit their designated target, heating up the hilt of Dancer to a scalding temperature. Egill was forced to drop the blade lest it permanently meld to his skin, clutching his wrist in an attempt to subdue the pain. While Aradann would have displayed concern, he was well aware that the injury was a minor pinprick to Egill, having endured far worse. Plus with the aid of a dose of Swallow, the burns would soon dissipate. Aradann subtly grinned as Egill lamented his loss to his fellow Witchers and left the courtyard to tend to his hand. He was left standing facing Freya now, her earlier Yrden trap left ignored. The youngest of the three, while she was a competent Witcher in her own right, she was often told by their superiors that she still had much to learn, predictability being a major weakness. Even the most primal of monsters would become accustomed to a continuing pattern, therefore it was vital as a Witcher to keep a fluid style developed at all times.

Several seconds went by
as they locked into each other's gaze, before she burst forward, sword poised ready to attack. Her blade arced into a horizontal slash, with Aradann bringing Tyr forward to block the blow. It was then that Freya's fingers began to form yet another Yrden sign, something that Aradann had been counting on. While Yrden was an effective sign to trap an opponent, especially one more incapable of rational thought, if the caster was not careful it would also trap them. By casting Yrden underneath them, Freya had confined both Aradann and herself to the invisible dome. Their blades still crossed, Aradann thrust his left hand forward towards Freya's stomach, pushing his fingers upward and forming the Aard sign.

“Poor choice of move.” He flexed his fingers, triggering the sign. A blast of telekinetic energy was created underneath her stomach and lifted her into the air. Aradann had used her own trap against her, as instead of continuing upwards, she hit the top of the invisible dome, swiftly falling to the floor upon the bounce impact. Aradann placed his left boot upon her upper back as she lay face first on the courtyard floor, mildly grinning to himself. “I'd just be glad that wasn't someone or something that wanted to kill you. I'd hate to see how trapping yourself in a confined space with a Katakan plays out.”

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Egill had retrieved Dancer and placed her back on her respected shelf. He was sitting alone in his room, looking out from his window. He saw the beautiful sky and birds littering the area. For a second, he forgot about being a Witcher. He humoured a fantasy thought on living with a small family, a wife and three children out in the forest somewhere in the outskirts of Novigrad. He saw himself farming in the morning, tending to the farm animals too. He felt himself smiling at the thought. Human life. Something so simple and precious at the same time. He couldn't help but feel a bit of doubt in himself. Witchers protect the world from monsters and creatures. But whom shall protect the earth when Witchers are no more? When the existence of Witchers fell, who shall shield the common folk of danger? Feeling an overwhelming sense of anxiety and worry, he stood up from his bed frame and paced. He sighed in deeply, using both of his hands to stretch back his face frustratingly.

"Uuuhh...damn." He continued to think about the impending doom. Aradaan was strong, and smart. Freya was impressionable, but had very bold potential. Eskel was nearing his years and it was a matter of time before his age turned into incompetence; Lambert as well. Yennefer would eventually die. He believed someone with that much power in the area of magic was destined to die not on their own terms. She played a daring game. Geralt wouldn't always be there to rescue her from danger. Then there was Geralt. Secluded, hidden away like a rotting wound. Even though he had respect for the elder Witcher, he knew he was as useful as the spare swords left in the common room. Something of the past. Ciri's death had effected him too harshly and in the end, he hadn't been the same. He was burden to the school. 'What purpose did he have here? He'd be better off dead, joining Ciri in the after life then to suffer under 'what-if' circumstances everyday in the living' It was obvious then. As much as everyone around here practised and lived a ordinary Witcher life, they weren't aware of the bigger evil out there; not like he was. There were vampires, witches, demons alike that all deserved to die. He had heard stories of Geralt sparing those who swore to the almighty god they would never sin again. What rubbish. Monsters were monsters. That was the end of it. No ifs or buts about it. They all needed to be exterminated, at all costs. That was the only way everyone would live in peace. To cleanse the world with a vicious flame and be born anew. Feeling his thoughts getting too methodical, he refocused and took a deep breath in. "Hhhhh...hm." He could hear the confrontation in the courtyard being somewhat ended. He peered out the window to see Aradaan on top of Freya. Poor girl. One day, if she sponged everything she learned from both Aradaan and himself, she'd become an inspiring Witcher. He had high hopes for her. She was so young and ready to learn as much as she could. Like a blank canvas ready to be painted on. He turned around and laid back on his bed, closing his eyes to rest. He hadn't slept since yesterday morning. The hay and sheets felt like clouds. He felt, at home. He closed his eyes and twiddled his right fingers, half knowingly using the Aard sign. The Aard was focused on a small vase, hovering over his desk. It twirled, stopped, the twirled in the opposite direction. He'd soon doze off and finally, fall asleep altogether.

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Freya saw her mistakes the moment she activated the sign. She should have placed it under Aradann, not both of them. Then there was the way he countered. He had known exactly what she was planning. Those points were driven home when he placed his palm on her stomach and sent her flying. As the air left her lungs she dropped Ciaran and hit the top of the dome with an 'ummph'. As her body hit the hard ground she groaned, then placed her hands on the ground to try and get up, but felt the boot on her back.

"I don't even want to think about that. It was a stupid move... And predictable, as you so painfully showed me. You win, now please help me up? I think you broke a rib, haha" she replied as she turned on her back when his foot was removed and took his hand if offered. If not she would struggle to her feet, her breathing still irregular from both the impacts and the rib. "A pleasure as always, now I am going to patch myself up, do you want to assist me?" she asked, her tone completely playful. She wouldn't need help, and she didn't really expect Aradann to provide any other then to help her to her feet. And he was always kind of stand offish when it came to tending any wounds that weren't his own or another man's. Freya considered it a courtesy on his part. With her being one of the first female Witchers ever outside of the School of the Cat, Aradann always seemed to ignore the fact she was a girl and focused on the fact that she was a fellow Witcher. It made her happy. Coming from her thoughts at his reply, she would smile then pick up her sword and sheath it before walking into the building and to her room.

Freya kept her room spotless. Everything had a place and everything was in its place. Her massive bed was made and her clothes were all folded or hanging neatly. She had several book cases with different tomes and scrolls on them as well as a desk locked in by shelves, on which she had her tools for her craft and work. Grabbing a bandage she stripped, after heating some water and took ten minutes to soak her muscles. Both the forging and sparring had caused minor aches that would disappear in the heat. The ribs were another question. While she would heal much faster then a normal human, she would still need to wrap them and then take some swallow in order to be up to working condition on the morrow. Climbing out of the tub, she dried off then proceeded to wrap the bandage around herself. After they was done she redressed then moved back to the shelves and took a small vile of the healing liquid off it, uncorked it and threw it back. She could feel the effects immediately as she stuck her tongue out in disgust.

"Hate those damned things, but everything has a price I guess. Taste just happens to be it in this case." her voice sounded in the empty room. "What to do now..." maybe she would she if there were any contracts available to keep her busy.

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“Don't be so hard on yourself.” Aradann relaxed his foot and removed it from her back as he spoke, offering her a hand up once she had turned over. “You didn't break anything, I would've heard it, you would've felt it.” He smirked playfully as he continued. “My guess is you're just winded and have bruising impact.” Pulling her up, he rolled his eyes as she jested regarding aid with patching herself up. He knew as well as she did that just because she was a girl, it made her no less of a Witcher, and at the end of the day, the only person a Witcher had to rely on was themselves. All of them had experienced times alone and in the field where assistance was out of the question; it was a matter of either embracing it and pulling through or giving up and dying. Having made sure she was fine to walk, he watched as Freya made her way back inside the fortress, and no doubt to her room to recuperate. He twirled Tyr in his hand several times before sheathing the sword. The sun still shone, but droplets of rain now began to descend, with Aradann feeling several upon his face. Having heightened senses could be a curse at times but at times like this, he was all the more grateful for them, as the smell of the rain on stone was one of his favourites. However, as the rain began to pick up, he made his way inside before his loose linen clothing was soaked through.

Once back in the main hall, the smell of Swallow was strong, causing him to half-wretch. Whatever Egill had used was a particularly strong batch of it, though it wasn't particularly surprising. Egill, after all, was a thrill seeker, and unlike many Witchers, or even people, would actively seek out confrontation. Being of a similar age, Aradann recalled the events of the Trial of the Medallion, of which he and Egill both took part, along with several other boys and girls at the time. Upon reaching the peak, only Aradann and Egill remained, the others having fallen afoul of the various hazards along the way. What stood between the two boys and their Witcher Medallions was an infamy of the peak: a pack of rock trolls. Whereas Aradann wished to talk with them, Egill thirsted for a fight, though the odds of one boy against three grown rock trolls could only end one way. Though Aradaan had eventually persuaded Egill to not use force, the tension between the two had been thick for weeks after. Whereas Egill was brash and headstrong, Freya was quiet and her predictability was holding her back. Of all the contracts that had been issued since the three collectively had become Witchers, Freya had been given what could be considered the easiest ones. While she had done well on her contracts, she had faced creatures who were prone to falling for repetition, beasts with only a base primal intelligence. If she was to come up against an intelligent creature, or even a swarm, such as with Arachnomorphs, her reliance on Yrden would quickly be her undoing. If she wanted to become a fully fledged Witcher, she would have to develop a reaction time and skillset fitting of her peers. When Aradann thought about it, he spent a lot of time worrying about his fellow Witchers'. In the end however, there was nothing he could do to change them, only hope they, as well as himself, would continue to grow. As he walked through the hall he saw Bart standing in one of the corners, rummaging through what looked like a stack of papers and scrolls. Curious, he walked over towards the troll.

“Bart?” he started. Bart turned on hearing his voice.

“Danns whats wants?” he replied in his own highly broken common. Aradann raised his left eyebrow inquisitively. Out of all Kaer Morhen's inhabitants, Bart had the hardest time pronouncing his name, and so had shortened it accordingly to Dann or Danns.

“What are you doing? Do you need some help?” Again, the troll turned to him, with a slightly annoyed expression.

“Witchy mans says Bart to looks at scrollses. Some fleshy mans no heres, goes booms likes blows rocks.” He put his arms up in the air in a strange kind of shrug.

“Who asked you to look at the scrolls Bart?” Aradann was confused by Bart's rambling, but his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice.

“I did.” Aradann turned to see Geralt standing there. The old Witcher looked terrible. His hair was lank, his clothes looked as if they hadn't been washed in days, while his breath stank of cheap wine. Nevertheless, he seemed perfectly coherent. “I've sent Eskel to get the other two. We need to talk. Now.”

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*Egill found himself in darkness, surrounded by still water. The first thing he noticed was his own reflection below him; a watery mirage of himself. He gazed back up and could see everlasting blackness that stretched for miles in each direction. There was a certain heaviness in the air that made it hard to breath as well; like a thick, invisible smog. His feet that touched the water below him rooted him so he couldn't move, yet he felt no urge too. He could feel a presence moving in the darkness around him. His Witcher powers allowed him to feel, see, and hear everything a human could not.*

*"Face me then. Or do you wish to hide in the dark forever?" Egill twisted his head left, then right; he could feel the being to stalk him. After a few moments, a man came into view in front of him. Bloodied and riddled with battle wounds, the man held a beating heart in his right hand. Any man or woman not familiar with such things would've screamed or yelled in fear and panic, but Egill remained just. His eyes had caught sight of the heart first, then to the body, and finally fell upon the face of the mysterious man's face. His eyebrows rose in surprise, but as he continued to stare, he realized the person in front of him was him. With a more sinister look in his eyes, he had a viciously malicious evilness about him. Egill could smell the blood on him, the death stench that only dead bodies had after laying out for so long. He could feel the air get thicker and his breathing getting tighter. His other half walked across the water, the liquid steaming under every footstep. Egill felt heat on his face first, then as the other Egill moved in, he could feel his entire body getting hit with a wave of warm air. Coming within inches of Egill, the other darker Egill stuck its hand into Egill's chest. As his finger tips tapped his chest, it started to burn and and slice through the skin slowly like a hot branded sword. "Ah--...hhh..." He attempted to scream but all that came out was a dry yelp,* *Egill stared deep into the other's eyes; dark and overwhelming empty. He could feel the fiery hand cut through skin and melt through his muscles. Then a sharp pain and a moment where he could feel his breathing getting cut off completely, the other's hand gripped at his heart and started squeezing.*

The pain, so intense and unbearable, it
immediately woke him out of his rack.

"GUUHHHHH!!" Rolling off of his bed and hitting the stone floor, he took in a deep breath first. His face red and the veins popping from his neck, his next few breaths were unsteady and uneven. "\*COUGH, COUGH!...COUGH! \*" His right hand was clutching to where he felt the hand from before enter in. He turned over on his back and looked down at his chest, panicking. To his knowledge, he knew it was a dream. And yet, it felt real as day. Unharmed, he laid his head back down on the ground. Relieved, he closed his eyes and felt the sweat dripping on his face. His ears were ringing and he could, ironically, feel his heart thumping incredibly fast.

"Egill!" Eskel pushed his door open. His room had looked like a tornado had came through it; Dancer was struck through his wooden cupboard, and his silver sword, Tor'Haerne was stuck on a metal chest on the other side of his room. Carpets and anything made of cloth was torn and ripped to shreds. Running across the room and to Egill's side, Eskel bent down on one knee. "Dammit...what the hell were doing now? I told you to lay off on the potions boy." Egill caught his breath, shaking his head.

"..Dream...Dreams." Eskel lifted him up off of his feet, holding his shoulders and chest to support him.

"Dreams? Of what?" Egill regained his sight, blurred before and straightened himself upright.

"...I.." He paused, realizing how quickly he fell out of the nightmare, he had forgotten it just as fast. "...I don't remember..." Eskel pursed his lips.

"Well then. I'm sure it won't be as scary as Geralt waiting for you to get ready. He has something for you and the other two. And for Melitele's sake," He let him go and walked over to his cupboard. Grabbing the hilt of Dancer, he pulled it out and pointed it at Egill. "Stop practising in your room. Damned swords aren't just for swinging it around, willy nilly." He threw the sword lightly on Egill's bed and walked off. Egill opened his mouth to respond but the older Witcher had already left in haste. He curiously looked at the sword hole on his cupboard, then the one on the dresser. The torn cloth materials everywhere didn't match his activity previously, as he remembered laying down and sleeping. He brushed the thought, hoping he was just aggressively sleep walking. Pulling Tor'Haerne out of his chest, he leaned it against the wall, got dressed, and moved down to the Main Hall.

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Freya had picked up a book regarding the tempering of steel and was reading it when Eskel knocked on her door and entered upon approval.

"Freya, Geralt wants to see you now. Aradann and Egill will also be joining you." he said, making it short and sweet before he left. The brunette stood and grabbed her swords, as well as her pack, put several vials of different potions in, along with some medical supplies and a change of clothes, before putting the book back on the shelf and heading to meet up with the boys and Geralt.

'A mission that calls for three of us...I wonder what it could be. It's been so long since I have gone on a contract with either Egill or Aradann. It kind of feels like old times when we would all play in the training area defeating imaginary monsters. The only difference is this time it will be real, and much more dangerous. If its a monster we have to hunt that is... Before we leave I should grab a few of the pieces of jewelry I made with runes on them... I have missed both the guys birthdays, so they can be gifts and I'll be able to see how effective they are.' she thought as she walked at a brisk pace to where Eskel had said to meet them. Because Egill never told anyone what he was going to be testing himself against, Freya had never had the opportunity to ask him to try one of her creations. The runes weren't as powerful as Bregnar's, but they were useful. At least the few times she had tried them herself. Bregnar's works were, well, masterful. He could not only make swords and armour, but he could enchant them like no one else she had ever known. Even her own father couldn't produce anything close to the dwarf's craftsmanship.

When she had first arrived, the Witchers' had tested her in several areas, and had noted she knew her way around the forge a bit. She could make things such a nails with little effort and it was even said she had a way with a hammer. When Bregnar had been called to watch her, he had seemed unimpressed, but still took her on as his apprentice after she passed the trials. She knew she still had a lot to learn, and the dwarf never let her successes go to her head, but he also encouraged her to try new things and was willing to teach her when he had time. Coming out of her thoughts when she saw the men, she acknowledged Geralt, though his present state concerned her, then waited quietly for him to begin speaking.

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“Geralt??” The word came as a mix of surprise, confusion and a seemingly rhetorical question. The last time Geralt had shown his presence in the hall was well over a year ago, during an incident in which there was an uprising involving the Scoia'tael for the first time in decades. While under the earlier rule of Emhyr they had been allied with Nilfgaard, they were later on betrayed by their own Queen, who in an infamous move declared her former 'subjects' as outlaws. Geralt, who was personally acquainted with Francesca Findabair, the former ruler of the Scoia'tael, even ventured outside the walls of Kaer Morhen, such was the gravity of the matter. Aradann remembered it all too well, having fought through it once the Witchers were forced to involve themselves. Many on both sides were massacred, soldiers and innocents alike. While Witchers usually disassociated themselves from political disputes and remained neutral, the skirmish called for them to take action, particularly in defending civilians. Aradann therefore knew that if Geralt was present, this could only mean something serious was afoot.

The others arrived quickly at Geralt's behest, with Egill, Freya and Eskel soon joining Aradann and the old Witcher in the great hall. Geralt scanned over all of them with sullen eyes before addressing the group.

“Morvran is dead. Usually I wouldn't pay attention to the hearsay of the masses but I have this on authority from Yen and the Royal estate. Speculations are rife as to the cause but he died in his sleep last night. It seems however, Nilfgaard is wasting no time in crowning a new Imperator. Jaestus, Morvran's son will have his official coronation held in Nilfgaard city in two days time, while Morvran's funeral will be held tomorrow. While we are not required to attend either, I'm sending the three of you to Novigrad.” He gestured with his head towards Aradann, Egill and Freya. “After the formalities in Nilfgaard, Jaestus and the Royal escort will be heading to Novigrad in order to greet their public and also for Jaestus to show his support for the Eternal Fire. You three shall stand as representatives of our caste.” Aradann was confused. If they weren't needed at the official inauguration, why were they being sent as envoys to one which was largely religious and didn't concern them? Although his questions were swiftly answered. “While you are there, you have three primary objectives. The first, is that as envoys, you will be attending at least some of the events. Although Jaestus will have already been coronetted, the city will be hosting a week long celebration to tie in with it. There will be parades, street parties, all the usual, but there will also be an official state ball, which your attendance will be required at.” Aradann heard Egill moan, knowing well his dislike of balls, or rather having to wear anything which wasn't a studded doublet and a pair of swords on his back. He shared his sentiment, although knew that there were times when these things could not be helped. “You are also to attend the ceremony whereby Jaestus will swear his support of the Eternal Fire. And should you wish, although not required, there will be a tourney held, which you are free to enter. Your second objective is to keep your ears open for any news that could establish Morvran's passing. While it will be impossible to fully investigate as his body is in Nilfgaard, someone may have information or let something slip. Lastly, we have received a contract from the city guard. It appears that over the last few weeks, several young noblewomen have gone missing, and no trace of them has been found. There are no leads or suspects so far, so you'll need to look into this. We're being offered a good sum for this, so I expect results. Any questions?” Aradann had been absorbing the information as Geralt had spoken, and had questions throughout.

“Are you sure sending us into a meeting with the Eternal Fire is a good idea? It's not that long ago that they were calling for the eradication of all non-humans, Witchers included.” Geralt frowned but Eskel quickly interjected.

“Non-human prejudice is illegal under the laws of Nilfgaard as it is, and given that they will be welcoming a new Imperator, the likelihood that they will break that law is almost non-existent. Besides, should anything happen, I'm sure you three can handle yourselves. Although if it does come down to it, we should avoid as many casualties as possible.”

“Hmm.” Aradann paused in thought. “Finding out about Morvran may prove fruitless, especially with no access to his body. This contract? Do we know any more details?”

“The city guard will brief you upon visiting them.” Geralt replied. “I've made arrangements for you all to stay at The Chameleon. Dandelion and Priscilla will be expecting you, as will Zoltan. You have as much time as you need, they won't be charging anything, though the mission needs to be cleared as soon as possible. If you need any work doing on your armour or weapons while you're there, Éibhear will be at your service. Any urgent findings, Zoltan will get it to me.” After the briefing and further questions were finished, Geralt began to make his way back upstairs, looking back at the group. “You leave tomorrow at dawn.” With that, he disappeared up the spiral staircase, to be seen again only who knew. Eskel sighed and patted Aradann on the back, speaking to the three as a whole.

“You heard Geralt. Get yourselves prepared, equipped, whatever you have to do, make sure it gets done. Then get some rest, you're going to need it. The journey to Novigrad will take at least several days, a week or so more realistically. Good luck.” With that, he too departed, leaving the three standing amongst themselves.

“Well, at least we now have a solid platform to occupy ourselves.” Aradann spoke neutrally, with no emphasis on a positive or negative. “It'll be good to work together again. I don't recall having done so since we were teenagers.” Words were exchanged, before the trio shared a drink. Once it was done, Aradann headed to his room to prepare. “I'll see you both at dawn.” Making his way to his quarters, he let himself in then bolted the door. A long night lay ahead of him.

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Egill was left standing alone. Aradaan spoke of not had working together in so long which made Egill think back to the last time they did work together; it had been ages. As the group went onto their separate ways, Egill turned back towards the direction that Master Geralt had went. He had so many questions to ask him, so many things he needed advice on. Not that his friends nor his current mentors couldn't help him with his personal issues but, he assumed Geralt had been through it all. As the most senior Witcher here at Kaer Morhen, he figured Geralt council him in his troubles. But he had left to his quarters already. He stood there by himself then. The mission itself was easy to say the least. They had went on harsher, more dangerous missions and completed it on their worse days. They were to return home no later than a few weeks from now. He felt that this mission could also put his mind to rest at all the weird thoughts he was having as of late. Working with Aradaan and Freya was like working with his brother and sister. At any rate, if these thoughts were still bothering him, he could ask them both without judgement. He looked up at the sky; he still had time to relax and get ready for another few hours. He didn't need to pack a lot, only his swords and a few potions in case of emergencies. Other than that, he'd be the first one ready to go. He decided to walk out towards the front part of the castle to get away from the close quarters of the building. He was seen walking out casually, stepping out onto the bridge gate and leaning against the wooden rails. The wind blew softly on his face as the trees danced all around him. Birds chriped around him, singing in a off-tune symphony. Mother nature breathed calmness and peacefulness, making Egill close his eyes to ease his mental state before the journey ahead.

"You're looking awfully handsome today." Egill opened his eyes to see Petronilla standing beyond the foot of the gate with her arms across her chest.

"You think so? I was trying to go for the rugged look today."

She smirked and chuckled, covering her mouth with her right hand. "If anyone's rugged around here, it's Aradaan. You're more of a, cute bunny compared to your average Witcher." She crossed the water bridge and embraced him in a small, but tight hug.

"Ha ha, very funny. Mmm. How've you been? I haven't seen you since Novigrad." Her eyes trailed off, remembering what had happened that week. Egill had her by the hips, raising a thoughtful brow; he noticed her troubled look.

"I needed time to recover." She looked back into his eyes. "I'm sorry. For everything. If there was any other way we could've prevented it.." Egill shook his head.

"Werewolves. Whether human nor creature..if they chose to destroy the peaceful order, someone has to take care of them." Petronilla huffed, pushing away from him. She used both hands to push back strands of hair.

"I wish it wasn't that way. I think of a world where we all leave in peace." Egill stuffed his hands into his pocket and leaned backon the rails.

"A bit ignorant to think that way. Chaos is needed just as much as peace is. The balancing of the two orders." Egill turned his head back towards the entrance to see if anyone was there. He thought of sneaking her in while he got ready; as the others were too busy indulging in their own activities.

"I'm assuming you're here for some time then? Taking time to rest and enjoy your time off?"

"Unfortunately not. Geralt has us working some political case. Something I can care less about to be honest..."

"Why don't you stay then? Aren't you your own man? Or does Geralt keep you guys on a tight leash?" Egill shook his head, then laughed.

"I'm starting to think becoming a Witcher is more or less being an indentured slave. Granted slaves don't fight monsters and get money for contracts but, it becomes second nature after while. You start to think about things you could be doing other than tracking down werewolves and monsters." Petronilla used her right hand and touched his cheek.

"I believe you are on this path for a reason, having it being by choice or not. If the God's destine you to be a Witcher until you die, so be it. But don't carry it around your shoulders like a burden. You save people for Melitele's sake. You are the common folks' hero." Egill leaned into her palm.

"...I suppose you're right." He grabbed her hand and kissed her on her knuckles. Jumping off the rails, he grabbed her hand and pulled her in the direction the castle. Petronilla giggled, trying to pull away from her tight grasp.

"You must be mad! They'll kill me if they see me in here!" Egill shrugged his shoulders and started to half jog back into the castle structure.

"They'll have to get through me first! Now hush woman before anyone else spots us!" They managed to sneak into the main lobby area. There, the rock troll was sitting patiently. He looked up which made Egill freeze for a second. Petronilla's eyes widened and her hand squeezed harder on Egill's.

"Gillses bring woman why? Bart no know strangeywoomans." His voice boomed across the entire room. As with Aradann and others, Bart seemingly stuggled to say Egill, so had named the Witcher Gillses. Egill put a finger to his lips and made a serious face.

"Quiiieett fool. You'll have us both hemmed." The troll paused in confusion before he slowly imitated the finger-to-the-lips, and grunted in agreement.

"Gillses make stangeywomans gos. Bart want no see, Bart be trouble in." As they headed upstairs, Petronilla couldn't help but feel unnerved by a random troll being in her lover's home.

"You enslaved a rock troll? For what reason would you need a rock troll?" Egill opened his door slowly, then quickly hurried her in. "Trust me, he's more a problem then a solution to anything. But he's good hearted. He tries to help the cook out most of the time but ends up giving our cook more things to take care of for him than the food she's cooking." Petronilla walked in and looked around.

"Quite
the place you have here." Egill tried his best to act cool about it.

"I try. Not much but, better than sleeping at a city's Inn." Petronilla laid on his bed, undoing her dress from the shoulders. "We haven't much time. Be quick, but slow. I want to enjoy you before you leave." Egill undid his top button to his shirt and neared her slowly like a snake would its prey.

"C'mere you."

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Freya listened to Geralt, her thoughts catching on the words ‘attend’ and ‘ball’. It wasn’t often she got to dress up as fashionable clothes weren’t always the most practical for contacts. She filed away the rest of the information and nodded when the older Witcher left the four. A few more words were exchanged before she went for a quick drink then headed to her room. She gathered the necessary things in a travel bag, such as the formal gown that she had worn only once with its matching earrings and hairpins. She also packed some of the other things she had made, with the intent of giving them to the guys. There was almost a full day left, as the spar had only taken about an hour and the briefing had occurred less than 30 minutes after they headed back to their rooms. It was still raining outside, so further training was not an option.

"I can always go continue to work on that sword... " she said to the empty room. And she did just that, heading to the forge, shaping and moulding the metal until it finally came out the way she wanted it. "There, that's what I was doing wrong."

"I could have told you that." Eskel said from the doorway, a playful smirk on his face.

"Then why didn't you old man? You could have spoken up when you arrived a while ago," she replied, laughter in her voice.

"I didn't want to break your concentration. How would you learn if you were always given the answer to your problems?" he jested back as he took a seat and continued to watch her work.

"I guess you're right. But sometimes the answers would be nice. I am assuming you are not here to give me advice though. So what brings you here old man?"

"Just wanted to check you were ok. We've hardly seen you over the last few days. Everything alright?" She nodded as she looked up.

"Mhmm. Just always never know what havoc will occur with Aradann and Egill butting heads, especially on such a journey." Egill chuckled at the notion.

"I'll second that. But they're good lads. They might fight on occasion but I've never seen a more steadfast pair. Even Geralt and I were never that close. You've certainly got your hands full with them. But I can see how much they care about you. After all, you're practically their little sister right?" He smirked as she blushed. "Well, I'll be leaving kiddo. Let me know how everything goes. And don't give those boys too hard a time. See you when you get back." he finally said as he stood and gave her a hug.

"I will. You stay safe while I am gone, don't want to have to come home just to help you patch this place up again." she joked as she waved farewell. Several hours passed as she put the finishing touches on the items before she looked out the window and realized the sun had set. Packing up her tools, she grabbed the box her necklace was in and headed to bed. She couldn't sleep again that night, so she grabbed her travel bag and usual Witcheress gear set then down in the forge and went back to fine-tuning her sword. When the sun began to rise she went to the nearby stream to rinse off and change before heading to the stables to saddle her mare Lady. Stroking the horse's nose, she brushed her off, saddled her up and attached her bags then headed to the kitchen to grab another fruit. The gnome cook was there, having decided to make sure the party had food. The two women bantered as Freya ate the prepared food and they waited for the two men.

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It was still dark out when the Witcher's eyes opened. To what would be seen as normal, he had not slept much, but then Aradann was well known for his short bursts of sleep and still functioning as well as any other. Having spent the night preparing, he had taken no shortcuts, knowing that between travelling to Novigrad, the week of the Royal festivities and the contract, they would be away for at least a month. Two saddlebags were stuffed full of potions, decoctions, bombs, oils, scrolls and perishables for the weeks journey to Novigrad. While they would of course need appropriate clothing for the upcoming events, there was no doubt that that would be handled by Dandelion upon their arrival, being both a lover of all things fashion and having deep pockets thanks to the Chameleon's popularity and having managed his finances far more lucratively ever since Priscilla became tired of his reckless spending decades ago. Making sure to first wash himself, Aradann proceeded to gather his armour and garb himself, before placing Tyr and Fenrir on his back by way of the holsters. Once he was satisfied that everything was accounted for, he picked up the saddlebags and exited his room, making his way to the main hall.

He arrived to the sight of Freya and Gisela sitting at a table, munching away on no doubt another of Gisela's oversized breakfasts. While Freya turned her head and nodded, clearly with a full mouth, the gnome hopped off her seat and made a beeline for the male Witcher.

“What have I done now?” asked Aradann in a humorous tone.

“Nothing yet I bloody well hope Master Marshall. We need to get some breakfast down you, Master Geralt told me you three have a long expedition starting today. Come on, sit.” Somehow, it seemed she had failed to notice the saddlebags in each of Aradann's hands.

“I'll be back in a minute, I promise, I just need to go and saddle up Bheith.” Gisela furled her brow.

“Make sure you do just that, then get straight back here. I won't have any of you going out to do Melitele knows what on an empty stomach.” Aradann walked away, muttering under his breath.

“Yes mother.”

“I heard that.” Gisela had seated herself at the table again, a good distance between where Aradann now stood near the keep entrance. 'How does she do that???' he wondered, bemused by her eerily Witcher-like hearing. Passing the doors, Aradann made his way out into the courtyard and then to the stables. The sky was still dark as he approached Bheith, the horse snorting, clearly having just woken up.

“Sorry boy. Looks like neither of us got much sleep eh?” He proceeded to brush him down before saddling him and attaching the saddlebags. Rummaging in one of the bags, he pulled out an apple and held it out, Bheith greedily taking several bites. “Alright, I'll be back soon. We'll be riding out to Novigrad, so you've got a good few days to stretch your legs.” Turning back, he was suddenly aware of the smell of perfume, sniffing the air to confirm. Perfume definitely, a rarity for Kaer Morhen, with the only ones wearing it usually being Yen or Triss when they visited. Following the scent to where it was strongest in the courtyard, he knelt down, focusing on the ground. Footprints, two sets. One was clearly Egills, the other...a woman's. Aradann shook his head and rolled his eyes. Not only had Egill clearly spent his time 'preparing' by doing anything but, he had also led someone from outside Kaer Morhen into the fortress. Eskel would have a field day if he knew about this, and Melitele knows what Geralt would react like. Then again, the chances of Geralt reacting with much emotion were nil these days. He just hoped that whoever she was, Egill hadn't been stupid enough to try and hide her in his room. But sods law prevailed, and the tracks led back to the keep. Fantastic. Returning to the main hall, Aradann took a place at the table along with Gisela and Freya. In front of him was a plate of bacon, eggs and a hunk of bread with cheese. Hungrily wolfing the meal down, they were soon joined by Bart.

“Ah. Witchygos eats
flybirds flatses. Flybirds no meatses, stringeys. Bleh.”

“Well that's because they eat eggs and you don't you great lummox.” Gisela was quick to snap at Bart as usual.

“Nos. Barts nos eats no eggses. Bart Trollololo. Bart eat err....big....four legses.” Aradann chuckled in between his mouthfuls.

“Well it's a good job I bring us plenty of deer then.” Bart's face lit up at the mention.

“Deeeaar. Bart deeaar
likes. Much meatses.” Aradann then had a thought.

“Bart, did you see Egill last night?” The troll looked confused, scratching his head.

“Err......me no sees Gillses with strangeywoomans.” Well that confirmed things for
definite.

“I didn't mention a woman. Did Egill have someone with him?” If trolls could blush from being caught out, then Bart did the equivalent.

“Gillses and strangeywoomans heres, but says Bart to be quiets. Bart quiet for Gillses.” It was at this point, after listening into the conversation that Gisela piped up.

“What?? Master Gry brought a woman here from outside? Gods, will he never bloody learn? When Master Geralt hears of this.....” Aradann laughed and took another piece of bacon.

“I wouldn't bother Geralt. Besides, Egill might be tactless but he's not that stupid to bring someone here who would be a danger to the fortress. Likelihood is that it's just another girl he's fallen for and is trying to impress. Unless...” he paused for a moment. “It's that girl from the village he's been sneaking off to see lately. I can never remember her name.”

“Petronilla.” Freya spoke up in between eating.

“Sounds about right. I suppose if he's getting serious with her it might be nice to put a face to a name. Either way, dawn is breaking.” The first light of day was creeping in the sky and shining in through the windows. “He'll have to eat on the road.”

“No he damn well not, he will sit at this table and....” Aradann finished his plate then placed a hand gently on Gisela's, his own dwarfing hers.

“I'm really sorry Gisela but not this time, we're under strict instructions from Geralt to leave at dawn's first light.” She huffed in annoyance but gave in.

“Alright, when he gets down, I'll give him something packed. As well as likely a bloody good thrashing for sneaking this girl of his is in and being late!” Aradann left the table, making his way outside once more and to his horse. Once he reached Bheith he climbed atop the beast, leashing the reins as Bheith began to trot into the courtyard. There, he waited for Freya to follow suit and Egill to appear.

“I can feel it too.” he said as Bheith snorted, shaking his head. “There's an odd wind about today. Let's just hope it doesn't spell trouble.”

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"Mm..mm." Petronilla rolled over on the bed, reaching over to cuddle Egill. But she was met by crumpled sheets and hay instead. She rolled her eyes open to see she was alone in the room. 'He couldn't have left already..' Her tired eyes moved over to the dresser and saw that clothes, swords, and a few potions were already neatly organized and ready to pack away. Then she heard bare feet scrapping the stone ground from behind her. She had turned, half afraid and half nervous that it might've been a stray Witcher to check up on Egill; to her relief it was Egill himself. He was fully naked; the sun over the horizon beaming through his window on his nude skin.

"Yes. Bask in its greatness." Petronilla sputtered a chuckle from her lips, covering them with her left hand as she fondly examined her beloved. Egill did an exaggerated stretch with his arms above his head that was more of a way to flex his abs and his arms. Petronilla rose playful brow, scrunching her face as Egill kept overstraining his muscles like a complete bafoon. "Ahhhh..." He exhaled, and walked over to her smoothly.

"You know," she started, using the bed sheet to cover her chest. "I like you better when you're in your natural state." Egill gently laid next to her on his side.

"Would you be mad if I told you I've fought Drowners like this?" She held in another laugh, but it soon broke out into a flurry of giggles.

"Shhh..shshs..hahaha." Egill had put a finger to his lips but also broke into mildly loud laughter. Petronilla refrained and continued to stare at him. She noticed the little scars and marks he had gathered; nonetheless from battles. She counted them in her head, using her finger to tap them in her own order.

"I should be getting ready.." Egill mumbled, recognizing the sun now. If Geralt had mustered the entire group by now, everyone was literally waiting on him. If they had found out that he had snuck Petronilla in, he'd be weeding out Kaer Morhen until his knee caps were dust. But it was a chewing out he was all too familiar with. Besides Petronilla, there were many times where he and Aradaan would get into the shite and be punished for it; like that one time they had almost poisoned Lambert. Well, most of the planning being Egill and tagging Aradaan along for the ride. It wasn't anything serious of course. Back when their alchemy skills was next to a rock, they had mixed various disgusting and weird coloured things together and pour it in a cup to give to Lambert. God forbid it hadn't been anything that could've put a bear down, Lambert had suffered constant vomiting and bowel movements for a week. 'Double Dragon' was what the boys came up with. But their efforts in having a good laugh turned into months cleaning Kaer Morhen inside and out. They were to touch no swords or blades, and had a early bed time. He could remember faintly how much he had hated his life then and smiled, in between Petronilla rubbing his skin softly.

"What?" She asked, noticing him breaking into a grin.

"Just remembering old
memories." He leaned in for a quick kiss and then hopped off his bed. Petronilla did the same but carried the blanket with her to shield her bare skin.

"I'm supposing everyone is awake?" Egill shook his head, fitting on his pants and then his boots.

"Not yet. Only me, Freya, and Aradaan." Once he had turned, she dropped the blanket and fitting on her own pants, boots, and blouse. "I'm afraid there's no way to sneak you out," Egill jogged over to the door and opened it halfway. He peeked out to see if anyone had made their rounds; so far so good. "But, fear not love. If anyone's getting their head bitten off, its me. Just follow my lead." He winked at her, passed her, then grabbed his things he needed for the journey. Once they had reached the bottom floor, he could smell breakfast. He stopped right where he could see Gisela and the Troll washing dishes and silverware. He turned to Petronilla and handed her one sword and a few potions to carry.

"Whats this?"

"Part of the act. They'll know I'm lying otherwise but it's better, at least in hindsight that I at least put effort into showing that we weren't passionately making love all night." Petronilla pursed her lips and shifted hips. Egill pulled back and gave a reluctant face.

"So thats all it was then? Making love?"

"No--I..You know what I mean."

"I don't. An explanation would suffice."

"I--Gods woman, you know I care for you in ways I haven't with others."

"So there were others before me? Tell me, where they any more passionate than I was?!" The intense whispering went on for a few more moments.

"You're one to talk! You're only recognizable power is basically to have sex with someone and tell them their forseeable future!"

"Oh, get off your high horse Egill! The only reason I slept with you is because you're half decently better looking than any other male from my village, but believe me when I say that they've got twice as much brain power as you!" Egill rose his hands up in the air dramatically and turned his head away from her.

"There it is. Well you know what? I only slept with you because I thought you were attractive too but you're nothing but a evil.." He stepped away, but not before grabbing his sword and potion. "Manipulating, woman who SLEEPS with half decently good men like myself...." He twiddled his fingers and made a weird and mocking face at her as he moved into the open area.

"EGILL!" He turned to Gisella's voice and dropped literally everything on the floor. "I ought to beat you with my cooking spoon boy! Where have you been all morning?!" She knew the answer, she just wanted to see if Egill would spill the truth.

"I uh--.." He turned to glance to where Petronilla was, but she was gone.

"WELL!?" Egill turned again and tripped over a few words.

"Well I--, I, I was uhm--gathering th-things for my travels, of course." He said the last two words almost as confidently as he predicted.

"Things?..." Petronilla was seen storming outside. She might've passed Aradaan and stopped. She wasn't afraid to be seen by another Witcher anymore, Egill had killed that. She wanted to say something, but decided it was foolish and continued to walk off.

"It had better not happen AGAIN!"

"OWW!" A packaged food block was thrown at Egill's head. He rubbed it as he went to the horse stables. There, he saw Aradaan. He stuffed the food in his rucksack and stepped beside him in humiliation and defeat. "...She managed to find her way out?" He asked plainly. "...Good." He turned and went to his horse, brushing it before the travels and waiting for Freya to join them.

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Freya and Gisela had been talking about this and that, the girl being told she needed to settle down with a nice man by the older gnome when Aradann had come down to the kitchen. She took note of his saddlebags and hid the grin that wanted to touch her lips when the short woman demanded he sit and eat, then as they conversed like a grandmother and her stubborn grandson. That was just how Gisela was. She treated the three youngest Witchers like her grandkids and made sure they always had food. As he went to saddle Bheith, Freya stuffed her mouth with bacon and eggs before taking a drink of fresh milk.

 “A man like Master Aradann would suit you well girl.” The Gnome said as she nibbled on some bread.

“He’s not my type, too broody in my opinion. Besides, I see him and Egill like brothers. I simply can’t imagine myself with either one.” She said between bites. Before Gisella could reply Aradann came back in and began to eat. A comfortable silence came over them as the two stuffed their faces until Bart entered the room. Smiling at the troll she listened to Aradann talk with him, then almost choked on a piece of bacon, causing her to cough a couple of times, when Aradann slyly got Bart to confess that Egill had brought a women into the keep. ’That idiot’ she thought as she regained her breath and finished her own meal. Aradann went to wait for her and Egill, so she turned to Gisella and smiled down at the women. “I can help you clean up while we wait for that troll brain, no offence Bart, to come down.”

“No, no. You go and wait with Master Aradann, Mistress Freya. I’ll give that boy a good thrashing when he arrives and send him your way.” she replied, gathering up the plates and beginning to pack Egill’s breakfast. Freya nodded then headed out, but instead of going to the stables, she pressed herself in a dark corner near the kitchen and waited. She saw and heard the whole scene between Egill and Petronilla then him and the Gnome. A smile touched her lips as the woman threw the packed food at him, hitting him hard enough that Freya heard the 'thunk' sound it made on contact even without her enhanced hearing. Being completely still she watched as his woman stormed out and waited until he followed before moving out of her hiding place and meeting up with the two men at their horses. As she passed Egill she gave him a look of sisterly disapproval then mounted Lady and moved her to stand next to Aradann.

“I love that woman sometimes. She is so full of fire for such a small thing.” She said to him, more as a way to pass the time while they waited for Egill to saddle his horse and join then than an invitation to small talk. When the male joined them the three headed out ready as they could ever be for the events that were about to unfold.