Chapter Text
The halls were frightfully chilled. It didn't feel like it was fall, not with the cold seeping out of the stone. It felt like one of the bitter winter nights where they'd all end up huddled together in front of the cooking fire. He looked at the blackened wood, he could warm the hall up right now. Or he could clear it out, then set the fire up proper.
He could feel the weight of Vesemir's hand on his shoulder.
"If we don't clean out the kitchen fires regularly, it could trap the smoke inside. Smother itself and our lives. Don't skimp on your chores, boy."
A smile curled at his lips as he shed his gambeson, he'd need to shove his sleeves up a little more. Thinking back to soot stained faces and hands. It was time to get dirty.
Hauling out the half-burned wood and heaps of charcoal was slow work by himself. He wondered how Vesemir dealt with it. With no trainees to help, did he curse the younger Witchers for leaving it to him? Or did he let the fire burn down and deal with it with quiet dignity?
When Eskel dropped a half-burned log on his foot and immediately swore, he could almost hear Vesemir's laugh.
Rubbing his sweaty forehead with his sooty-ashy arm was probably not a good idea. But he needs to get the sweat and hair out of his eyes. The long pole he was using to wipe out the flue felt like it wasn't enough, but considering how much ash he was covered in, it must have been.
He didn't remember being this filthy when having to clean it out as a child. Thinking back on it, he usually cleaned it from the roof, not the fireplace itself. Recalling Geralt covered head to toe in black made him snicker. Yeah, yeah those were good times.
The sweat streaking his forehead was now carrying the ash into his eyes, he didn't need a looking glass to feel the tears on his cheeks. Not like anyone would begrudge him the ability to keep his eyes clear,
Wiping his hands on a clean rag, he frowned down at his black tunic. It used to be cream coloured.
He was already filthy, he may as well clean out the other fireplaces before bundling up for the night.
He took the stairs two at a time up the guest tower. He stepped into the room and frowned, Yennefer didn't bring all of her belongings. Some books were still strewn over the bed and writing desk. He huffed a sigh, maybe when he was done up here he would send word to her.
Cleaning the guest fireplace was easier. Maybe an eighth of the size of the fire in the main hall.
Running the last clean rag over his face, he took a deep breath of the fresh air wafting down the flue. He should clean up before heading up to Vesemir's rooms.
Pausing for a moment, he really thought it over again. He'd just get dirty again, what was the point? Crinkling his nose, he mulled it over in his head. He was more than likely going to clean the room. So what were a few errant boot prints on top of that?
Standing just on the cusp of Vesemir's rooms made his heart lurch painfully. He could smell the cooking spices and herbs he often used during the winter wafting through the open door.
Fuck, how did he think he could do this? There was facing down what lurked in his mind, and whatever the fuck this was.
Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the door open. A black mark left on the old wood.
The room was an absolute disaster. Books and scrolls were strewn everywhere around the large desk Eskel remembered from his childhood. Rennes's desk. The one he always kept meticulous for doling out punishments.
What a shitty thing to pass down from one master to the next.
Eskel blinked, one of the items on the desk snagging his eye. Gwent cards. Four of them just tossed on the desk haphazardly.
Without thinking, his feet carried him over to the desk, fingers reached for the cards. Snatching his hand back before he could touch them, he cursed himself. He would clean the fireplace then he could clean up the desk. Before any more black paw prints were left by his clumsy hands.
The four cards sat heavily against his mind even as he showered himself in more than enough soot to last a season.
He headed down to Lambert's boat and tiny shack. He would kill any drowners that had tried to make a home there, and maybe take a quick dip in the icy lake water to clear his head.
No matter how hard he strained his ears, he could only hear bears further in the forest. Nothing in the water. Picking up a small river stone, he pitched it into the water. Nothing, not even a tremor or snarl.
Someone must have cleared the area out. Stripping down, he set his dirty clothes into an empty rucksack. Slipping into the water made his skin ripple and shrink.
Scrubbing at his skin and hair he worked quickly. Good fuck, the water was cold.
Crawling out of the freezing water, he towelled himself off with his drying sheet. Quickly pulling out clean clothes from the other rucksack, and onto his chilled skin.
The walk back up to the keep in the dying light helped warm him back up. Only marginally.
Scorpion snorted, kicking him in the side of the chest. With a bit of a wheeze, he rubbed a hand across his chest. "Yeah, yeah. Breakfast time huh?"
Standing he absently brushed straw from his arms and hair. The animal couldn't comment on why he'd slept out in their enclosure, but he could almost sense his disappointment. He was trying, it would take time. Besides, it was cold in the keep. Far warmer in the stables with the animal.
He spent a long time on the roof. Making sure none of the chimneys had nests in them. With his senses, he didn't have to check, but he still felt the need to,
He was putting off going back to Vesemir's desk. Those four odd cards just laying on the desk.
As he walked through the main hall, rubbing his hands together to chase the chill out of his fingers, his eyes spied the journal he had to move before his goat could destroy it.
Drawn like a moth to the flames, he slowly picked up the book. Slipping it open to the middle of the book, Eskel frowned.
Mage Yennefer has found some of the recipes to turn humans into Witchers. I fear that this knowledge may wind up in the wrong hands.
She assured us that she would only administer the first stage of the Grasses. To open up his body to the changes.
I fear this will drive Lambert and Eskel away.
He blinked several times. This was Vesemir's. His neat small print stared up at him from the page.
What followed was a detailed description of the potions' components. The teas. What mutagens, how to collect them.
Followed by a wish that if the day ever came where these were needed again, that they could be changed, that they could keep more alive than he ever could.
There were drops of water falling onto the paper.
He closed the book and carried it with him to Vesemir's rooms.
He sat at the desk, placing the book to the side. He stared at several papers, eyes unseeing.
Gaze sweeping over the mess, slipping over the Gwent cards, sweeping over white and yellow, penned in black.
His name stared up at him from an envelope, beside that were letters to Geralt, Lambert, and Ciri. When he shifted his letter, he saw a rather fat envelope penned for Dandelion.
His heart was in his throat, fingers trembling as he looked at his name. Turning the envelope over he could see the wolf-head in the wax.
Vesemir.
A breath rushed out of his lungs, the air fleeing every part of his body and refusing to return. His chest was tight, the sound of the wax seal cracking echoed the sound in his chest.
Eskel,
If you are reading this, I fear the worst has happened. You, my boy, are now the Head of the Wolf School. I know you must not have found this right away, and no matter how Lambert bitches and moans, you are the one I picked.
Before you finish reading this letter, promise me, lad, promise you'll look after your brothers.
Eskel's mouth moved without his consent, strained voice quiet in the room as he whispered, "I promise."
You couldn't have made me prouder. You were always gifted with your signs, perhaps a sign of chaos untapped before we got you. Perhaps in a different life, you may have wound up in Ban Ard. Ha, your talents would have been wasted there. So I am glad you wound up with us.
With your calm disposition, mastery of the blade, and level head, I know you will do our school proud.
Eskel shook his head. "No. I can't."
I won't begrudge you if you all leave for warmer climes. Just make sure you take my journal with you. It's the last one on the shelf. Also, take one of my damn cards. There's one for each of you. Took me a while to win them all. Don't gamble them away.
He took a moment to flip over the card nearest to him, Vesemir's Gwent portrait staring at him. As the others flipped over, a smile tugged his lips, they could carry their old man in their pocket if they wanted.
My one regret is that you and Lambert don't have cards yet. I know you will. Would have been fun to wipe out the competition using the whole school. But as far as regrets go, it is just a drop in the lake.
Eskel. Don't become an old man filled with regrets and sorrows. Just because Destiny has dealt us all shit hands doesn't mean we should be indifferent to them. Take a page out of Geralt and Lambert's books if you need. Be angry, be compassionate.
Be yourself.
With all the love my weathered heart can hold,
Vesemir
The anguished howl that ripped from his chest echoed through the mountains.
He woke the next morning, face tacky from tears he couldn't stop. Head throbbing like he'd had a demijohn of Lambert's moonshine, then had a fistfight with the man. Even the fisstech hadn’t been this awful.
Fuck his head hurt.
Gathering up the cards and letters he scowled. He was going to have to track down his idiot brothers, wasn't he?
Before he left, he began writing notices for the other Witchers. Telling them of a contract he needed help with within Novigrad. How he could take all the help he could get. Adding a seal with his medallion he shuffled all the loose sheaves into his packs.
Fuck this was some bullshit. Why couldn't he have left all this in a place where he could easily find it all?
He left the summons on every notice board through Kaedwin and Redania. He didn't bother with barges or anything like that. He wasn't taking any chances. Snaking through the countryside trying to find any traces of his brothers.
When he got to Novigrad, Scorpion was visibly limping and he cursed himself for driving his steed so hard. Setting his horse up at the small rest area across from the Chameleon. He did a perfunctory check of the horse's legs.
Most likely just strain, if he was still a touch lame in the next few days he would curse himself for how hard he'd driven the beast. He wouldn’t be able to travel with a lame horse, making it harder and slower to track anyone across the Continent.
The door across the way slammed open. "Eskel!"
Turning sharply, he could see Lambert sauntering across the street. "Lambert." Either the relief was in his voice or the shape of his shoulders because Lambert immediately pricked up.
"What can't trust your baby brother to fend for himself?" Lambert's snarl didn't deter Eskel in the slightest as he crossed over to Lambert, grasping the back of his neck and pulling him into an embrace.
"Of course not brother. I just missed you. How's your mage?" He stepped back after Lambert reached up and squeezed the back of his neck.
"Holed up in a bog in Velen. Has a portal to a sweet bath. I got stir crazy and left." A nonchalant shrug. There was more of a story there, but it could wait.
"You see my notices?" He stepped towards the Chameleon drawing out Dandelion's rather large letter.
Lambert frowned at the envelope but then nodded slightly as they entered the tavern.
The bard perked up when both Witchers had folded themselves into the tavern. "Eskel! Lambert told me you were on your way here on a contract and I couldn't quite believe him."
Eskel nodded at him before tilting his chin to the stairs.
Dandelion nodded, padding to the stairs then up them, the Witchers following shortly after.
When they entered Dandelion's suite, he motioned to the couches, where they sat around the low table. "I actually found some things up in the keep I needed to pass on." He held the letter out to the bard, who took it with a murmured thanks and trembling fingers. Before reaching into his pack and grabbing one of the cards and Lambert's letter, he looked his brother dead in the eye and spoke slowly, "Come back this winter."
Lambert's spine went ramrod straight before the letter and card were handed to him. The furrow between his brows deepened as he looked at the card and the envelope. "This your contract?"
Eskel's eyebrow twitched with an iota of mirth. "Of sorts. Finding Geralt will be a pain."
The bard looked up from his letter, eyes blinking rapidly. "Geralt is in Toussaint with Cirilla."
Eskel rolled his eyes. Of course, he missed his brother. "How long ago did you hear word of this?"
"Ciri stopped in just before Lambert got here, I believe." One bedazzled finger tapped against his chin in thought.
He nodded slightly, crossing his arms over his chest as the others read their letters.
"I'm going ahead." Lambert stood abruptly, parchment clutched in his hand.
Eskel eyed his brother. "Oh?"
"I get to burn Sad Albert." Lambert looked at him down his nose, as if asking Eskel to doubt what was in the letter, asking for a fight.
"Good. May need to see if Letho is haunting the mountain lake where you fish." He nodded once.
Lambert tilted his head. "If he is, I'll put him to work. Anything I should know?"
Eskel frowned, but then shook his head slightly. "No animals. I left Bleater in Toussaint. Geralt's cook is looking after her. Probably too spoiled to come back up."
Lambert let out a bark of a laugh. "Of course pretty boy has land in fucking Toussaint. Wonder whose ass he had to kiss to pull that off."
"Annarietta," was Dandelion's distracted reply.
Both Witchers looked at the bard, it took him a moment to notice the weight of the looks levelled at him before looking up. "Geralt gave me a very brief summary before he headed back down. Promised to ask if the ban could be lifted. As long as I promise to only stay on his property obviously."
Lambert threw his hands up in the air before leaving, muttering curses in Mahakan that Eskel couldn't hope to parse. Probably insulting, Geralt or his luck.
Scorpion wasn't lame. just fatigued. So he let the poor horse rest for a week, checking his progress over and over. As soon as he was well, he headed straight to Corvo Bianco.
He pushed himself past the inn he stayed in last time, pushing Scorpion a touch further before he could hear the sounds of children screaming in the setting sun.
B.B. stood outside the door and nodded at him before holding his hands out for the reins. "Welcome back, Monsieur Just Eskel."
"Good to see you B.B.," he slapped the man on the arm, his tone jovial.
"Eskel!" he heard Ciri call through the door, her footsteps getting louder before she was out the door and in his arms. "Oh! I missed you so!"
He wrapped his arms around her tight. "And I, you."
They spent a long moment just embracing before he heard someone clear their throat behind him.
Geralt looked on with soft eyes, shed of his armour and swords. He almost didn't look like the same man. "Eskel," he rumbled.
"Geralt," he returned.
When he finally let go of Ciri, he went over to give the same greeting he had to Lambert. Clasping his neck to bring their foreheads together. "Brother."
"What brings you to my neck of the woods." Geralt stepped back and motioned to the lands in front of him with a broad sweep.
"A plea for you to come home for the winter. I know this is now just as much your home as Kaer Morhen was, but I'll miss you if you don't visit."
Geralt raised a single brow at him before he fished out the final two letters and cards to pass to Ciri and Geralt.
He didn't miss the way the young woman clutched the card to her chest, eyes watering. "Thank you Eskel." He could see the silver chain around her neck and smiled, there was no one else better than her to inherit Vesemir’s medallion.
They all retreated into the house, into the small sitting area across from the stairs leading to the guest room. He watched as their eyes drifted over the parchment, Ciri's eyes misting over before slowly spilling over her cheeks. "Congratulations, Master Eskel."
He rubbed the back of his neck, then at his scars. "Well, I don't know about being much of a master of a school of only three-" Ciri slapped his thigh with a frown, "-four Witchers. But thank you."
Geralt nodded. "He asked me to bring Dandelion up to the keep. He says it slipped his mind to offer a formal invitation while he was still with us. Would like him to chronicle our lives. Or whatever he can cobble up from the journals."
Eskel nodded. "That makes sense. He can't see Vesemir's final journal though."
Geralt frowned slightly. "Why?"
Eskel just shook his head. "Don't worry about it, brother."
Geralt nodded. "Alright. You're spending the night," it was a statement, the inflection lacking in his voice to make it a question.
"Yes, but I can't stay too long. Have to make sure Lambert doesn't burn down the keep when he sets Sad Albert on fire." The round eyes from Ciri and the laugh from his brother was worth it, joining in on the laughter as well.
He wound up staying a week, Marlene plying him with food and the new sweet temperament of Lil' Bleater.
Eventually, he said his good-byes and turned towards the keep.
Turns out it wasn't Letho hiding in the woods behind Kaer Morhen. It was a vampire.
Eskel wanted to say he was tired of vampires, but when he introduced himself with that soft and wizened voice, he knew instinctively that this was the very person who steered him towards the orphanage.
"Regis, a pleasure to meet you." He shook the clawed hand held out to him.
The other hand came up to clasp his more firmly. "The pleasure is mine, I assure you. I would also like to extend my thanks to you."
Eskel laughed, bringing his hand up to clasp the man's arm. "Thank you for letting me know there was trouble."
Regis shook his head. "I had to leave, or my people would have hunted me down for killing another of my kind. I couldn't possibly wrap things up that way. The woman had lost all her children, but due to the nature of the conflict of one of my closest friends, she wound up with more prey."
Lambert cursed as he threw a log onto the fire. "Regis here told me what the fuck happened in Toussaint. Crock of shit that Geralt missed something happening right across from his property."
Eskel shrugged and sighed. "You know him, sometimes he is focused, sometimes he isn't."
Lambert laughed as he threw another log onto the fire, one that looked suspiciously rectangular.
Geralt showed up with a very winded Dandelion, followed a week later by Ciri. Eskel thought the keep wouldn't be able to get any livelier. He was clearly mistaken when three sorceresses showed up with a bulky Witcher in tow.
Maybe he would have to patch up the keep a little better if this was how their winters were going to be spent from now on.
Bringing his hand up to the card he kept by his heart, just beside his medallion, he asked Vesemir to look after him as he stumbled through his new trial of being the Master of his home.