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TWL Chapter 255: A Gathering of Clans
🕑 Added 2024-11-12 20:42:59 +0000 UTCJust as Lann shook his head to clear his mind of those meaningless thoughts about Hjalmar and Ciri, he suddenly heard someone knocking on the door.
[Knock! Knock!]
"Come in."
The door opened, and a young man and woman with reddish brown hair entered.
"Hjalmar, Cerys!" Ciri exclaimed in surprise. "Are you here to see me?"
The witchers who were chatting immediately fell silent, and the guards standing at the entrance adopted even more serious expressions. They had all heard Yennefer's comment about Hjalmar and Ciri.
Hjalmar, with his typical rugged islander face, smiled with a freshness reminiscent of the sea breeze. He was about the same age as Lann but was already starting to grow a beard.
Lann just smiled at them before saying: "Do you have a reason for your visit?"
Cerys stepped forward.
Cerys's hair color was similar to Triss's, though not as vibrant; a deep, dark brown predominated in her locks.
Although she was a woman, she radiated the unmistakable air of an islander. Her attire was practical and tight-fitting, a fine cotton garment that showed off her well-trained figure. Dressed in this way, she was ready to embark or climb mountains at any time without any limitations.
She also wore a vest and belt made of bearskin, said to have come from the same bear that King Bran had hunted with Cerys and her guards.
Unlike Hjalmar, who went straight to Ciri, Cerys focused her gaze on Lann as soon as she entered the room.
"I'm sorry, Ciri, we've come on a mission this time, and it's not exactly to find you." Cerys smiled. "We've come to see Lann."
…
At the edge of the castle, where the sea and the mountains meet, stood a cliff.
The light of dawn illuminated the outline of the cliff, tinting it with soft tones that made even the stones shine with silvery reflections.
With the gentle murmur of the sea, the song of the seagulls and the shadows of the swaying trees, this place seemed ideal for contemplation and retreat.
And the only inhabitant of this beautiful landscape was a simple tomb.
A lonely and melancholic grave.
An even more lonely and sad man stood in front of this grave.
He had been silent for a long time, until he heard footsteps behind him and finally broke his silence.
"I am very sorry... to have buried Calanthe here in such a humble manner. I know that there is a royal cemetery in Cintra..." Eist said. "But the Tuirseach clan has no cemetery, and we islanders... rarely need a grave."
The people of Skellige preferred to be buried at sea or in the mountains; some of the true warriors chose, when they felt their end was approaching, to go alone into the deep forest with a dagger to hunt a giant bear, thus ending their life in an honorable death.
Listening to Eist, Lann stopped three steps away from him.
"I know this place... Aunt mentioned it before. She likes the scenery here the most." Lann sighed. "It's been over a year, and this is the first time I've come to pay tribute to her... it shouldn't have been like this."
For a moment, Eist seemed to let go of all his sadness. Enough had been enough. He had been sad for too long.
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Lann. What you did out there is what would have truly given her peace."
Lann lowered his head in silence, out of respect for his aunt. After a few moments, he looked up and said: "Cerys mentioned that you were here waiting for me."
"Yes." Eist nodded. "On the one hand, I wanted to bring you to see the woman I loved. When Cintra is liberated, you can take her back to rest alongside her ancestors."
"On the other hand, representatives from the other five great clans will arrive tomorrow. Do you have any ideas? Do you want me to introduce them to you?"
Lann let out a long breath. "If possible, it would be great."
...
Lann looked at himself in the mirror.
Although he was going to a banquet, he wore light leather armor with a white tunic over it, held in place by a blue sash and a deerskin belt. A black bearskin cloak rested on his shoulders.
And a dagger with a lion's head handle hung from his waist.
It was an uncomfortable outfit for him, completely different from his usual attire. However, this was the appropriate attire for the banquet.
Skelligers do not like ornate clothing. For them, banquet attire must be battle-ready, as they enjoy meat, wine, and even fistfights at their gatherings. Dressing in anything that impedes movement would be a cause for ridicule.
This style of banquet was very different from that on the mainland. However, with Mousesack, as Cintra's advisor, and the attentive butler Enns anticipating everything, Lann already had his attire prepared to avoid breaches of etiquette.
Milva adjusted the collar of his tunic and, satisfied, left the room, carrying her prized longbow to escort him.
Then Ciri ran in, looked at Lann, and helped him to straighten his collar that Milva had messed up.
"How come you can't even put on your own clothes now? Is it the same when you're fighting outside?"
Lann sighed and avoided the topic: "Let's go, don't keep the jarls waiting."
...
The banquet had already begun, and the entrance of Lann and his party attracted a few cold glances, and no one came forward to speak. Everyone seemed to be waiting for King Bran to officially introduce him.
Lann knew that his knowledge of etiquette would be of no use in Skellige. So he showed his most authentic face, leaving aside the polite smile that could be frowned upon among the islanders. With a serious expression and lion eyes half-closed, he scanned the room for his target.
In addition to the seven major clans, there were vassals, heirs, and renowned warriors. The scene did not look like a royal banquet, but rather a buffet decorated with a certain neatness.
No one was sitting; people were walking and running around, selecting seafood, bread and wine from the tables. Laughter echoed everywhere.
Lann even saw some men moving tables to organize a fist fight, surrounded by spectators. The fight had started over a simple argument about a certain hunt.
"House." Lann whispered softly, and the sword attendant stepped forward in response.
"Where is the noble you told me about earlier, the one who might have taken in the witcher?"
"My lord, he is..."
House began to scan the crowd and was about to answer the question when a familiar laugh interrupted their conversation.
"Lann!" King Bran stood behind him, and as he turned, Lann felt the King give him a friendly pat on the shoulder.
House bowed his head and retreated after receiving Lann's signal.
Accompanying the king was an elegant lady and a kind-looking young man, who smiled amicably upon seeing Lann.
"This is my wife and son. They were out of the castle a few days ago, that's why I couldn't introduce them earlier."
She was the only person at the banquet who gave Lann any sense of royal nobility. She wore a black dress adorned with small gems, and pearls on her chest. Her hair, styled in a braid meticulously wound into a bun, gave off the scent of a Nilfgaardian perfume.
Her demeanor was impeccable, and her graceful gait made the dress look like a moving wave. Facing Lann's greeting, she gave him a polite, yet distant smile.
"Long time no see, Lann, Ciri."
Lann did not remember meeting her before, but Ciri returned her greeting with a bow that matched the queen's elegance.
On the other hand, the young man, Svanrige Tuirseach, was much more effusive. He embraced Lann enthusiastically and greeted Ciri with a humorous bow that made the girl laugh.
"They must become friends, Svanrige, like the sons of Crach." Commented King Bran. "The future belongs to you, and if you are united, you can overcome any challenge."
Before Svanrige could respond, Queen Birna intervened. "As long as we are on the islands, and at sea, Skellige will have no enemies."
King Bran frowned slightly, looked at his embarrassed son and shook his head.
He strode forward, away from his wife, and approached Lann.
To his left, King Bran put his arm around Lann's shoulder, and with his right hand he touched Ciri's head as he led them through the feast.
"It seemed to me that you were speaking to your servant. Did I interrupt something?"
"No, in fact, I may need your help." Lann raised his chin slightly. Though tall, he was still shorter than King Bran.
"I am looking for Lord Torgeir. My servant heard that one of the warriors I wish to meet works for him, and I would like to be introduced."
"Oh! If that warrior has caught your attention so much, he must be someone worthy of admiration."
King Bran laughed as he searched the crowd for Torgeir. Finally, he pointed to an old man with grey hair and beard. The man, his long beard tied into two braids, was watching a fight with enthusiasm.
"That is Torgeir, known as the Red. He was a fierce warrior in his youth and the former Jarl of An Skellig. Though he is now somewhat estranged from our Tuirseach clan, he is one of us. If you wish to meet him, I can introduce you to him."
"You would do me a great favor." Lann replied, showing a sincere smile.
