Gerd was not dead. The solid protection of his Quen Sign had provided him with a formidable defense. Buried under the rubble, he was quickly rescued by the ice giant, whose efficiency far surpassed any excavator.
However, he did not emerge unscathed. A catapult shell had struck him squarely, leaving him on the brink of death. Luckily, Fritjof was on the scene and, without wasting a second, used druidic healing magic to stabilize his wounds before opening a portal and taking him to the Circle of the Druids.
After days of treatment, Gerd had almost completely recovered. In fact, even the old wounds from his monster hunting days had almost completely disappeared. His physical condition was now much better than before he was injured.
And yet Gerd did not have the vitality of a healthy man. On the contrary, he was gloomy, enveloped in an aura of oppression and melancholy.
When he saw Lann enter, his eyes lit up briefly.
"Lann, you're here! How is Torgeir?" Gerd asked urgently, "Have you tried using that special ability of yours on him? Can you save him?"
Lann fell silent and shook his head regretfully.
"I'm sorry… My ability can only heal wounds, not resurrect the dead. When we found Torgeir, he no longer had any signs of life. Not even his body was left intact."
After all, an entire wall had fallen on him. Torgeir had not had the protection of the signs as Gerd had.
Gerd's eyes, which had briefly regained some light, went out again. But deep within him, something began to condense.
"Lord Torgeir had no direct heirs. Under normal circumstances, a descendant of the Tuirseach clan would be chosen to inherit his estate," Lann said, relaying Eist's message. "But according to the castle steward, before he died, Torgeir expressed a wish to divide his estate among the warriors who swore loyalty to him. And you, Gerd, are one of the main beneficiaries."
"Although there are no official documents, the Tuirseach clan has decided to respect the old jarl's will. Since you are still recovering, none of the other warriors loyal to Torgeir have wanted to claim their share before you."
The warriors under Torgeir's command genuinely respected Gerd. Before the battle, they had already agreed that he would be their leader.
The Skelligers, who valued a warrior's honor above all else, had also made a joint oath: they would not discuss the inheritance until they had avenged their lord. But Lann decided not to mention that detail; he didn't want it to sound too calculated.
Gerd took a deep breath. "Torgeir… died at the hands of the Nilfgaardians. But the Nilfgaardians managed to infiltrate the island of An Skellig thanks to the people of the Duchy of Arcsea. And they came after me… If we follow the chain of causes, Torgeir died because of me. How could I accept his inheritance?"
A long silence spread through the cabin.
"Lann, you were the one who ordered the ice giant to rescue me, right?"
"Yes."
"So you saved my life," Gerd said, looking up. "How do you want me to repay you?"
Lann blinked, puzzled. He had imagined many reactions from Gerd, but this was definitely not one of them.
"We are friends and battle partners. You don't have to say that…"
But Gerd firmly denied. "We witchers of the Bear School never leave unpaid debts. We do not believe in the bonds of brotherhood or camaraderie. If someone from our school saves our lives, we must repay them with a reward."
Lann looked at him closely. No, his eyes were filled with anger and longing. He did not look like someone whose mind had been drained of all emotions, as happens with the witchers of the Bear School.
He was waiting for something.
Then, Lann understood.
"If you insist on paying me in some way..." he said cautiously, "you could do so with the Law of Surprise: give me something you already possess but are not aware of."
Gerd exhaled slowly, as if he had been expecting to hear those words.
He lowered his head and muttered to himself: "Something I already possess, but do not recognize… I was tired of fighting. I joined Torgeir with the intention of retiring and living on the islands. But now, Torgeir is dead."
He raised his head and stared at Lann. "What I possess and do not recognize… is my life as a monster hunter. I had abandoned it, but now I am forced to take it up again."
"You want to rebuild the Witcher Order in Cintra, right? Then I will dedicate my future life as a witcher to you, Lann."
"By the Law of Surprise, my fate will be tied to yours. If I betray this oath, fate will punish me. But I have one condition," Gerd said, standing up, his scars moving like snakes over his muscles. "I will not only hunt monsters. I will participate in the war of Cintra and the revenge against Nilfgaard."
"Can you promise, Lann?"
Lann solemnly offered his hand. "That's just what I was hoping for."
"Welcome to the order, witcher Gerd."
...
The Law of Surprise is an unbreakable principle.
History has shown that anyone who defies it suffers the punishment of fate, whether on a personal, familial or even national level.
Lann did not understand why Gerd had forced the situation to join the Witcher Order in such a way, voluntarily tying himself to the fate of Cintra. Under the watchful eye of the Law of Surprise, his entire life would be dedicated to the Order, with no possibility of a supposed retirement in the future.
Lann had initially wanted Gerd to reconsider his decision, assuring him that he could join the Order as a brother in arms, without being bound by an eternal oath.
But looking into Gerd's eyes, he saw a suppressed determination that made him think of Eist. Trying to dissuade a man consumed by vengeance was an unpredictable risk; no one could anticipate how far he would go.
So, in the end, Lann offered Gerd his hand in welcome.
The Witcher Order gained a new legendary warrior: an impenetrable shield, a relentless blade.
Lann was confident that he could harness the fire of Gerd's vengeance, channeling it to annihilate enemies without himself being consumed by the flames.
…
On the island of An Skellig, inside the castle of Urialla Harbor, the Cintra entourage was organizing their luggage and preparing to leave. Eist had succeeded in ascending to the throne, and the Skelligers, excited, had promised their total support against Nilfgaard. The mission of Lann and his group had exceeded all expectations.
Despite the obstacles encountered along the way, Lann had gotten more than he bargained for.
Everyone was happy... except Ciri.
The girl stood in the middle of the room, her arms akimbo. "Lann, is this the succubus everyone is talking about? Tell me you're not going to take her to Cintra!" she exclaimed, her voice loud enough to echo throughout the entire castle floor.
The servants carrying the luggage immediately lowered their heads, as if their burdens had suddenly doubled in weight, causing their steps to slow.
On the other hand, Nanomi was also in the room, but, instead of appearing offended by Ciri's hostility, the succubus smiled with genuine enthusiasm.
Another bearer of the Elder Blood!
For someone who had sought refuge under Lann's command in order to survive, Ciri's appearance meant that her chances of living had doubled. How could she not be happy about that!
As for Ciri's rejection of her, Nanomi did not consider it a problem. Her race had an innate talent for winning the sympathy of others... regardless of gender.
"Nice to meet you, Princess Cirilla. I'm Nanomi," the succubus said with a perfectly calculated smile, leaning down slightly to be at the young woman's level.
In order to better integrate into human society, and at Lann's insistence, the succubus had agreed to cover the upper part of her body with bandages.
However, her style… It could only be said that, in her case, dressing up was almost worse than not dressing up.
The Witchers watching the scene stared at her. And Geralt suddenly felt a chill running down his spine. He didn't need to turn around to know that the sharp sensation, like needles being stuck in him, was coming from Yennefer.
A slight blush crept across Ciri's face. Unable to cope with the situation, she took three awkward steps back. Neither the lessons of the court, nor the witcher training, nor Yennefer's teachings had prepared her to face a woman like that. Her attempt to maintain a serious expression crumbled in an instant, and even the words of reproach she had rehearsed became stuck on her tongue.
'What an indecent body! What vile tactics!' Ciri screamed in her mind.
Talking to the succubus was an impossible mission, so Ciri changed her strategy. She adopted a new expression, waved her griffin cloak and ran to Lann. She spoke in a pleading tone. "Lann, are you going to take her with you to Cintra?"
Lann felt his head begin to ache. "Nanomi's nature… is quite similar to that of the lion's followers. At Kaer Morhen you must have learned something about this. Succubi possess formidable physical strength, not inconsiderable magical abilities, and Nanomi has accumulated vast knowledge in her long thousand-year life…"
"Ha." Yennefer let out a cold laugh from the back of the crowd.
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