Capítulo 2: Favour for a Favour
A/N - Just to reiterate, the Dragonborn isn't a demigod. He is mortal. Nothing more than a human with a unique gift bestowed by Akatosh.
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I took a sip of my tankard as Geralt explained everything. Vesemir was quiet as always. He only spoke when his voice was needed, usually when advice was to be given and, more importantly, listened to. "So I'm looking for Yennefer is the crux of the matter, Ragnar. Don't suppose you've seen her ride through here?"
Raven-haired beauty like her, dressed all in black, no doubt?" The smirk appeared on his face. I was one of the few he'd trusted with most of the story about them, how their lives were so inextricably linked together. "I'm sure I wouldn't have been the only one to notice her walk or ride through this place. How long have you been tracking her?"
Not so much tracking. I received a letter from her, asking to meet in Willoughby. We heard news that the town had been burned to the ground during a recent battle, so we have tried picking up her trail, ended up here."
"What are you doing here anyway, Dragonborn?" Vesemir asked.
I was part of the army that just got smashed to pieces. I could show you a few of the scars I was left with. Currently shacked up with the herbalist who has taken care of me." Both men gave me the sort of grin even without any sort of insinuation on my part. "To be honest, I've been a little lost as to what to do. Don't particularly trust any Black One not to try and strike me down if I were to wander around with a weapon."
"We haven't had too many problems though I guess our medallions give away who we are," Geralt stated.
"Heard about griffin attacks?" Vesemir wondered.
"Aye, a few peasants have mentioned of something making life more of a misery. No-one has posted a notice about it though."
"It was suggested we go speak to the local garrison," Geralt added, "Might be work for you there too."
"If I show up with a weapon and in armour…"
"Never took you to be so overly concerned, Ragnar," Vesemir stated.
"My memory of the battle is fuzzy, Vesemir. But what I do know is that I'm lucky to be alive. It's only thanks to Tomira that I can sit here with you now."
"She the herbalist you're bedding?" Geralt asked.
"Aye."
"We're going to camp nearby and likely see the Black Ones about the griffin. You should come with us tomorrow," Vesemir suggested, "Better than doing whatever it is your doing now."
"Woodwork and construction. Bit of farming too." That made the two men opposite chuckle. "Considering I spent over a week unconscious, and a couple of those days fighting off death, I'm just happy to be up and walking around. I'm sure you've been past a battlefield or two."
"We've ridden past a couple of them," Vesemir murmured, "Black Ones on the Pontar. Northern Kingdoms are on the brink. If they manage to cross…"
"It's not our fight," Geralt muttered.
"We might not be political but I don't like the idea of them dominating the Continent," Vesemir retorted, "Ragnar here is a stranger to our world and he picked up a weapon to fight for what was right."
"Something about them just rubs me the wrong way," I admitted, "But I hear rumours of what's going on up north over the river. Only rumours, but they're still disconcerting. But that's for another time. Let's get back why you're here. Yennefer. Any idea where she might be?"
Both men shrugged their shoulders. "We'll pick up her trail," Geralt replied, "We have a habit of finding each other. No doubt I'll stumble into her soon enough."
"If you're going to see the Nilfgaard garrison tomorrow morning, I'll meet you here and we'll go together," I suggested, both men nodding, "I do need some coin. Don't particularly want to leave Tomira…"
"You're getting comfortable, Ragnar. I'm not sure that's a good thing or not," Vesemir stated.
"You'll get bored soon enough," Geralt added, "She a redhead?" I shook my head. "Well, I'll be damned…"
I polished off my tankard and stood up. "I'll see you here in the morning. I don't have a horse at the moment so we'll have to walk."
"We'll have to rectify that when you'll eventually want to leave," Geralt said, "But we'll meet you outside in the morning."
I finished up my beer, bid the pair goodbye, and immediately heading back to Tomira. She knew me well enough already to know something was on my mind when I sat down the at the table, unsure how best to say. So I eventually took a breath and said, "A couple of people I know, guess I could call them friends, arrived in White Orchard just now. They're camping nearby."
"Oh, are they soldiers?"
"Not exactly. They're witchers."
"Witchers?" she asked in surprise, probably for the fact I knew anyway, "What brings them here?"
"One of them is searching for someone. They were supposed to meet elsewhere, but the plan went awry, so they're hoping to track her down. Dumb luck I just happened to meet them in the tavern."
"How do you know two witchers?"
"It's a long story, but part of how I arrived here is when I met them." I thought about and took a chance. "Don't suppose you've heard stories of the White Wolf?"
"Otherwise known as Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken? Aye, I've heard of him alright. He was once a regular visitor to the temple, though I never met him myself. Plenty of folk have heard of the stories and songs about him though. I'm amazed you know him personally."
"Part of that long story of how we met. Anyway, he's one of the two witchers I just met now. And if they're here, that is the gods telling me that…"
"Your time here is drawing to a close." She didn't sound sad, nor relived. She was being realistic. We both knew I would not be staying permanently.
"We're going to the garrison north of here tomorrow. They're going to look into dealing with a griffin nearby. I'm going to see if I can make a little coin, hopefully get my hands on a horse. I don't like the idea of dealing with the Black Ones, but I guess I'd best get used to the idea south of the Pontar."
"Temeria no longer exists, Ragnar. We're in Nilfgaard now. And unless something drastic happens, I don't see it changing anytime soon. Best we just accept it and get on with our lives." She sat next to me on the bench and leaned into me. "You won't be going too quickly though, will you?"
"I'm sure I'll be around for a few more days, at least."
"Best make use of the time we have left together then."
I glanced and gazed into her eyes. There was only one thing she wanted then and there. Five minutes later, she was naked on her back, one hand running through my hair, fingers of her other hand pressing into my back, her heels resting just above my arse as we made love. Mouths only parting when we needed to take a deep breath. She never stopped looking at me, as much as I returned her gaze. I'd felt this connection often with any lover. I'd always fallen in love very easily, but I'd rarely committed despite the deep feelings I would experience. It perhaps helped I was rarely in one place for too long, so the romances were always passionate, intense, but also brief before I moved on.
"Make sure you come back each night if you can," she whispered.
"For more of this?"
"Gods yes," she replied with a chuckle, "Go a while without sex, you forget how bloody good it feels."
I leaned down close to her ear, making her shudder as hot breath met her neck. I'd discovered it was a sensitive area that she loved me kissing, perhaps biting gently, but even just breathing on it was enough. "Would you like me to use my mouth too?" I breathed.
"I'd love a whole night of it."
"I swear you can sometimes read my mind, Tomira."
That earned me one of those smiles I always liked to see before she kissed me again. Our eyes met again, and the look in her eyes was also one I loved to see. No verbal communication needed as I started to pump her a little faster, the next kiss harder, the fingers at the back of my head holding my head tighter, her heels digging into my lower back even more. I groaned more than once as I could feel my orgasm building. She hadn't had one yet, but knew that, after I'd cum, I'd recover quickly and she could ride me to as many as she wanted.
Groaning as I came inside her, a few slow, deep thrusts before I finally stilled, resting myself above her as she gave me a gentle squeeze, feeling her nuzzle into my neck. I needed to move, feeling her legs release me as I pulled out and gently lowered myself onto my back, Tomira turning onto her side, cuddling into me, her fingers immediately trailing up and down my chest. "Are all Nordic men from your homeland like you?"
"Some, perhaps."
"Well, I can only thanks all the gods I can think of that they sent you here, at least."
She gave me all of five minutes before her hand moved down my body to my cock, the smile on her face broadening as she realised I was just as hard as before, swinging a leg over my body and slowly sliding down my cock, leaning down to give me a soft kiss.
Then she rode me hard and fast, her only intent to orgasm as quickly as possible, then she'd simply enjoy riding my cock for a lot longer after that. I have no idea how long she did, my hands enjoying the soft contours of her body, sitting up to definitely enjoying sucking at her breasts, which she certainly enjoyed as her hands held my head in place, plenty of soft moans escaping her.
And we certainly made each other smile as our last orgasm was almost shared at the same time, and certainly enough that had me lying back, feeling rather breathless, while she laid on my chest, her head just under my chin, this time my fingers trailing up and down her spine. "Definitely miss this," she whispered.
"Which part?"
"Oh, the fact I've just had quite a few orgasms but now you just hold me like this, your fingers proving very gentle on my body."
"If I ever find myself in the area again…"
"Ragnar, if the gods were to be that kind, there would only ever be one place you would be staying. In this house. In this bed. And preferably you would be inside me for at least part of your visit." I chuckled at how adamant she was about all of that. She lifted herself up and we shared another kiss. "But we still have time before you leave, so this isn't our last time we are intimate. Just don't do anything like going and getting yourself killed. And I'd rather not have you lying unconscious here again either."
"I'll do my best."
The next morning, I put on the leather armour I'd found, sheathed my sword and placed the shield on my back as I walked towards the tavern. Geralt and Vesemir were already waiting for me, and both of them didn't look particularly pleased. They never looked worried, but looking displeased suggested they had concerns. I didn't even need to ask. I knew what most people thought of witchers.
"Locals given you any trouble yet?" I asked.
"One or two have tried their luck," Vesemir replied, "We just don't rise to their bait. Even if we kill the griffin, it's unlikely they'll show any gratitude."
"Ragnar, you and I will go see the Black Ones," Geralt added, "Vesemir will wait here for now."
I glanced at the old man. "Took a hit on my shoulder on the way here. Best give it as much rest as possible before we look at taking on the griffin."
"While you're doing that, I'll see what other work they might have for me. I'll leave witcher work to those trained for it."
"You've killed your share of monsters, Ragnar," Geralt stated.
"Aye, that is true, but I'm not carrying any silver right now. And, as I said, I will generally leave it to the experts. Ghouls and drowners I can handle. Just take a silver sword and stab the fuckers. But some of the monsters you deal with are beyond my expertise."
"Shame you were too old when you landed near Kaer Morhan. Considering your skill with a sword," Vesemir started but trailed off. I'd heard it often enough by now.
"Aye, I thought fighting dragons was bad enough. End up here and find a world just full of monsters. Think it's the Nine having a laugh at my expense for some reason."
Geralt turned to Vesemir. "We'll be back later."
The old man nodded, Geralt and I heading off. I'd learned long ago that Geralt of Rivia wasn't what I would call a conversationalist, generally making do with grunts and, if necessary, a short sentence. Despite what people thought, though, he wasn't an emotionless. I'd seen the man show more heart in certain situations than anyone else considered human. But he also showed no pity and absolutely no mercy when it was required.
"Never thought I'd find you around here," he stated after at least an hour of silence.
"I could ask what you've been up to but…"
"It's a long story. When were you last in Vizima?"
"That's where I finally joined up with the army. We kept being pushed north before the Black Ones finally smashed us to bits."
"Considering your gift…"
"You know I don't use it, Geralt. Shit, if I did, two things. One, I don't think I would have changed the outcome of the battle, though perhaps killed a few more of the enemy. And, two, I have no doubt the Black Ones would have killed me then and there once they found my body, or strung me up on one of the gallows you've no doubt seen. You know I'm not a one-man army. Never did anything back home by myself. Was always surrounded by friends and allies."
"When did you last see Vernon?"
"Fuck… weeks, at least. No doubt he's carrying on some sort of guerrilla campaign but I don't have much hope for the man. From what I've heard, the Black Ones are hunting down any spies or special forces operatives that might be working in secret."
Geralt remained silent for a while again, though I knew he had one question forming in his mind. Though he was naturally worried about Yennefer, he knew about my penchant for… well, having any number of lovers. And quite a number of my lovers were sorceresses, if you're being polite, or witches, if you are not. "Heard from anyone of the Lodge?" he finally asked.
"Spread to the five winds is all I know. I've heard rumours of what's happening north of the river. Hard not to, but there's nothing I can do about it right now. I naturally worry about friends and lovers, but most of them are capable enough of looking after themselves."
He just grunted at me, and that was the end of the conversation. I had no doubt he probably knew a lot more than myself. I'd been so busy preparing for battle, then recovering, it had been a few months since my life had been anything but that. And our last meeting had been… I tried to think of when we'd last seen each other. It had been some time. Our paths had a habit of crossing, but we rarely travelled together for too long.
The Nilfgaard garrison was positioned one of the few major hills in the area, guarding the most important river crossing in the area, based in the remains of what I assumed was once a fortress. I knew that it had been in the hand of Temerian forces until recently, so wasn't surprised Nilfgaard took it for themselves as it provided a perfect view of the surrounding area.
I was rather surprised that they just let us stride up without being stopped, but with his two swords on his back, his white hair, and his eyes, most people could figure Geralt within seconds of meeting him, or assume who or what he was on approach. Not having two swords, with long blonde hair and beard, and being slightly taller than him, I certainly earned more suspicious glances.
Climbing the stairs towards the gate leading into the garrison itself, the guards were naturally uncooperative, but Geralt managed to talk his way in. I'd been with him often enough to know that he did have at least one or two diplomatic bones in his body. He didn't sweet talk, he just used logic. Help me, help you, kind of thing.
The invaders had certainly made themselves at home. There were guards posted everywhere on lookout duty, other men were either sleeping, eating, or relaxing. Others were hard at work. The battle might have been over, the war on hiatus, but that didn't mean the work stopped. Everyone knew that Nilfgaard had ambitions to push even further north.
I felt the stares of many of those that we passed as we were pointed in the direction of the commander. Geralt always drew stares anyway, but even the thickest of Nilfgaardian soldier would look at me, put two and two together, and would wonder why I was now walking alongside a witcher in the direction of their commander. I certainly sensed the presence of more than one follow, and Geralt glanced at me as he no doubt heard a weapon or two readied, just in case.
The commanding officer of the garrison was busy with another peasant, talking about grain or something or other, I tuned out, leaning against the wall, until their conversation was finished. He looked up and gestured us forwards once the peasant had walked by us, muttering to himself.
He looked between us before his eyes stopped. "Who are you?"
"Geralt of Rivia. I'm a witcher."
"A vatt'ghern? What brings you to my humble garrison?"
"Favour for a favour. I'm looking for someone. Yennefer of Vengerberg." Even I noticed his eyes. He recognised the name immediately. "But I know you won't just hand that over without something in trade. And I know what you're going to ask."
He nodded, understanding the insinuation. Hands behind his back, he stood a little straighter. "Captain Peter Saar Gwynleve. Despite what many think of us, we are not monsters. I have been placed in charge of this region and will work to ensure the peasants are kept safe. I am a farmer myself, but I chose to serve Nilfgaard and its emperor when called upon."
"Fine words, can you live up to the ideal?" I asked.
He glanced my way but didn't reply. "I'm sure you've heard of the griffin bringing terror to the region, vatt'ghern. So, as you said, a favour for a favour. You take care of the griffin, I will provide you the information you seek regarding Yennefer of Vengerberg."
"Who are you?" he asked, "You are no witcher."
"Ragnar Dragonborn."
"Interesting name. One I have read about it in dispatches. You have a reputation as a mercenary."
"Aye, I won't deny I've fought for coin. I'll also do jobs for coin."
"You fought with the Temerians?"
"Aye, I was lucky to survive, unlike plenty of poor bastards on either side."
His eyes moved to the sword, sheathed at my hip. "Many would be concerned about someone who fought for our enemy showing up in our garrison armed."
"The war is over, captain. Temeria no longer exists, and my allegiance ended with their defeat. So I come to offer my services, purely as a way of making coin."
"Hmmm. Rare I'd hear such honesty." He looked down at the map on his desk, looked back up at me, the map again, before he nodded to himself. "Bandits are making lives difficult for both my soldiers and the local peasantry. Some might be deserted soldiers, others might just be criminals taking advantage of the lack of law and order as we try and restore it." He gestured me closer. "We've had reported of bandits in these areas here, here and here. Would it bother you if you were to eliminate them, even if they were those you served alongside?"
"Most of them are dead, captain. You've seen the battlefield nearby?"
"I have. It is yet another scene of horror."
"That's where they dragged my body out of. Those I fought alongside? I believe most if not all of them died. Any that lived would have been smart and escaped the area."
"You're still here," he retorted.
"I was unconscious for over a week, and I'm still nursing wounds. I didn't really have a choice. As for these bandits, I don't like the idea of them attacking the peasantry. Their lives are difficult enough as it is. Consider it done, captain."
"I help with that, you can help with the griffin," Geralt added.
"I was going to suggest we handle them separately…"
"You're only one man, with how knows how many bandits. Best I join you." He looked at the captain. "Consider both jobs done. We'll return when the griffin is dead."
Captain Gwynleve rolled up the map, not surprised he had more than one copy lying underneath, offering it to us. "Bandit camps are noted on the map for you, Dragonborn, but also notes in regards to griffin sightings, vatt'ghern."
"Thanks," Geralt stated, and we headed out without another word.
Once we were back down the stairs and a few metres away, he unrolled the map as we figured out our position compared to the nearest bandit camp. We figured it wouldn't take too long to approach the first one, buried in the middle of a nearby wood as it was. This wasn't the time for conversation as we followed the path until Geralt stopped and listened, gesturing that we should head into the woods.
For a big man, I liked to think I could be quiet when required, but Geralt was something else entirely. Could have been a silent assassin the way he could move so silently. Taking cover behind some trees, we could see half a dozen men ahead, four sat around a campfire, two apparently on lookout, but they were relaxed.
Geralt and I shared a couple of gestures. We'd done this enough to know how the other worked. He was an artist with the sword, all technique. I… wasn't like that. I had skill, but we were different. It usually helped when it came to dealing with a group of bandits, mercenaries and whatever else we might end up fighting.
In the end, we went with the charge and catch them by surprise. He headed for one lookout, I headed for the other. He barely had enough time to get himself ready before I was swinging my sword, and he went down in one swing of my blade. The other four reacted quickly, but I was upon the next one, my first swing blocked before I practically leapt forward, putting my fist into his face, then stepping to block the sword that came towards me. Fighting two is never a good idea, but when fighting bandits, it was simply keeping your wits, and trying to kill one of them quickly… which I did.
I could hear Geralt fighting off the other one or two. If anything, he would have killed one already, so I could just focus on the last bandit I had to deal with. He wasn't wearing any armour, and I could see the tattoos covering his body. His face was dirty, missing a couple of teeth, plenty of scars. I figured he wasn't a former soldier. There wasn't the sort of training I'd expect.
"Fuckin' cunt," he cried, his sword swinging wildly, "I'll fuckin' have your guts in a second."
"You a soldier?"
"What?"
"Were you a soldier?"
"No, I wasn't a fuckin' soldier."
"Good."
I took his head within three seconds. It's not something you generally try and do, most decapitations generally happen either through luck, or the opponent is disarmed and on his knees. But just occasionally, I loved nothing more than taking the head of some piece of shit bandit.
"Piss you off, Ragnar?"
"Nothing but a mouthy gobshite."
"We'll go handle one more camp, then we'll call it a day. Tomorrow, Vesemir and I will head off to take care of the griffin. Can you handle the last one…?"
"Aye, sword and magic will suffice."
The next bandit camp was in the hills to the north of White Orchard. We recognised they were easily going to see us coming, so we walked along with weapons in hand, hoping they might just come charging towards us. That might put us on the back foot, but Geralt and I would just use magic to control while we struck with our weapons.
Geralt then shouldered me aside and lifted his sword to deflect an arrow that was fired in our direction. We both knew not to charge up a hill, so we simply slowed our steps further, and we could both see the lone archer in the distance. As soon as I felt I was in distance, I grinned to myself as I summoned a spell I knew few would use here.
An ice spike flew from my hand, covering the short distance within perhaps half a second, burying itself in his chest.
"What the fuck?" one of the bandits called.
Geralt and I shared a glance, grinned perhaps a little evilly, before we then unloaded a fire spell each. His fire spell was different to mine, but the effect was the same in that it caused an element of fear to immediately spread across the enemy, a couple dropping their weapons and running. The three remaining chose to stand and fight. Two against three might have seemed unfair to others.
We made easy work of them. That's not being arrogant, it's merely stating fact. Again, I was left thinking they were not ex-soldiers, and as we searched their camp afterwards, there was nothing to indicate they had once served in the Temerian Army. There were boxes and packages of supplies, enough to suggest they had been interrupting transports, just as Captain Gwynleve had suggested. Had they been bothering the peasants? It's possible they'd been stealing crops and sheep, but we didn't find any carcasses around, at least.
"Fuck it, let's head back," Geralt muttered.
It was a good hour or two walk back to the centre of the village, Vesemir inside the tavern, nursing a tankard of ale. The lady behind the bar brought us a round of drinks as Vesemir and Geralt discussed the griffin issue. I listened in, but I wasn't going to involve myself. Taking on a griffin was outside my expertise, at least in regards to oils I might apply to my blade or any sort of decoction I might take.
We didn't need to discuss much of a plan. They would spend the next day tracking the griffin and, with any luck, would have it handled by sunset. I would head off to take care of the last bandit camp. Part of me hoped they would be deserters rather than just regular bandits. Deserters might, just might, be willing to talk and I could at least give them warning to move on. I had no doubt the Nilfgaardians would eventually sweep through, dealing with anyone causing problems.
"We should meet here morning after tomorrow, if you're planning on joining us, Dragonborn," Vesemir stated.
"Ragnar, Vesemir."
"Merely respect. I'm one of the few that has seen your gift and likely lived to tell the tale. Still choosing not to use it?"
"I like think I'm a man of honour, at least nowadays. I gave my word to them and I'm doing my best to keep it, most of the time. That's not to say I won't use it, but I certainly limit myself when dealing with my fellow man. I will trust in my sword."
"I can respect that, Dragonborn. I've seen you in action."
"As to your idea, I'll enjoy a couple of nights with Tomira before departing. What's the plan though?"
Vesemir looked at Geralt. He simply shrugged. "Guess it depends on what the captain tells us. I have no doubt he knows exactly where she is."
I enjoyed the tankard with the pair before heading out. Tomira was busy at the stove when I walked in the door, and it felt rather domestic as, after lying my sword and shield by the door, she walked over to give me one hell of a kiss before wrapping her arms tight around me. Caressing her face, I met her eyes and… she knew. "When do you leave?"
"Two more nights with you… then I'm going to join them on the Path for a while. I'm a warrior, Tomira."
That made her smile. "I know you are, Ragnar."
"I'd ask you to come along but… I know your life is here."
"It is. I'm happy here." She leaned up to kiss me. "Plus I don't particularly like the idea of sharing."
"Ah…"
"You're easy to figure out, Ragnar, though you've also been honest. But I'm going to have some fantastic memories of your time here, and not just about the sex either."
"Speaking of sex…"
That made her laugh lightly. "Eat first, I'm sure you're hungry."
"Famished actually."
"Good. I've cooked us a nice stew, there's a bottle of Erveluce we can share… then we can head to bed for a night of lovemaking."
"When you put it like that…"
Dinner was ready quickly as I poured us a glass each as Tomira brought over a couple of bowls. We ate slowly, enjoying the wine, conversation flowing easily as always. She would sit and listen with a grin on her face as I regaled her with stories of my time back on Skyrim, whether it was my time battling dragons, or taking part in the civil war, or perhaps the earlier days when I had worked as a thief, even as an assassin.
"You know, I do wonder where you got your hand on a bottle of this," I stated.
"A lady has to keep at least a few secrets, Ragnar."
Dinner complete and another glass of wine shared, we headed to bed where we made love for what felt like hours. I showered her soft body with affection, enjoying every inch I could possibly touch. I made her moan. I made her giggle. I made her squeal. Most importantly, I made her cum... definitely more than once, which made me smile to myself. By the time I was empty, and she lay beside me, quivering slightly as she tried to catch her breath, both of us laughing away, she cuddled into me, nuzzling into my neck. "Fuck, I'm going to miss this," she whispered.
"I'll miss you," I whispered back, wrapping an arm around her.
"I'll try not to cry when you leave."
I lifted her chin with a finger and could already see the shimmer in her eyes. "No tears, Tomira. Only smiles. We've made plenty of good memories since I woke up in your bed."
"Okay. No tears. Or I'll do my best."
After breakfast the next morning, I dressed in my armour, grabbed my weapons, and headed out. Walking around armed and armoured certainly changed the attitude of the local peasants. I would say they were slightly more respectful, even deferential, perhaps thinking I would bring violence to any situation. I don't think they took me for a Nilfgaardian, but who knows…
It took a nearly all morning to make it to the position of the third camp I knew about. There were plenty of trees and bushes that provided cover, and as isolated as it was, the canopy of trees kept the weather cool and the ground beneath my feet dry. As I slowly made my way closer, I could hear the conversation taking place. And I knew within a few seconds that these men were not bandits.
Making sure my hands were spread wide, I stepped out of cover, hearing their conversation cease and weapons readied. "I come in peace," I stated loudly.
"Who are you? Why do you approach?" one of them called.
"I am Ragnar Dragonborn. I fought by your side against the Black Ones."
"Which unit?" another asked.
"Temerian Army. Third Division, First Regiment. We arrived from Vizima and linked up with the Second and Fifth to form the flank north of White Orchard. We were smashed to bits though took a lot of the fuckers with us."
"Who sent you?" the first one asked.
"The Black Ones. We need to talk."
I stopped walking around a dozen paces away. The leader was easy to pick out as he still wore the colours. No doubt others were whispering any advice they had, but he eventually gestured for silence before he waved me forward. "Approach. What's your name?"
"Ragnar. Ragnar Dragonborn."
"Rank?"
"Never given one. I was a mercenary. I know men such as yourselves may dislike us, but many of us fought and died at your side."
"Weapons away, men. And trust me on this, Ragnar, we respect any man willing to pick up and fight the Black Ones."
As weapons were sheathed, I found my hand shaken as I was led towards their campfire, and together we broke bread and shared a drink, the sign that we would not fight. But they were obviously curious as to why I was approaching. Eventually, the leader of this group, who was actually a former captain, asked, "So, why approach us?"
"The Black Ones obviously control the area. Their numbers are still limited, but obviously groups such as yourselves is attracting attention. I've already dealt with some bandits with a colleague of mine, but I was hoping I would run into fellow survivors."
"Obviously you're not here to fight us so… what?"
"I am sure you are thinking about some sort of guerrilla campaign. I applaud your efforts to continue your fight for a free Temeria, but for the moment, it will be a lost cause, and the Black Ones will eventually start to sweep through the area."
"We know these woods better than anyone," one of the others stated, "They won't find us."
"Are you suggesting something, Ragnar?" the captain asked.
"Any resistance you offer needs to be organised. Small units like yourselves will be effective but only when working in conjunction with other units. There must be someone who will be leading the campaign against Nilfgaard."
"Aye, there should be, but considering we're cut off from any units that might have survived, we can only do what we can here. My men here are all locals. They can still see their families. But they also refuse the idea of surrender. Die on your feet or live on your knees."
I nodded my understanding. "I can't tell you what to do. I will let the local garrison believe I've killed all the bandit groups. As far as I'm concerned, we've never met. But be aware that Nilfgaard obviously have plans for the region, and eventually won't take kindly to guerrillas running amok in the area. Take the fight to them by all means, but just know there will be consequences. And, more often than not, the consequences are felt by those you are sworn to protect."
Those last few words resonated with a few of them. You could see it on their faces. No doubt they had family in the village or on one of the farms in the surrounding countryside. Standing up, the captain did the same and offered his hand. "Maybe those of us who are permanent soldiers can move on and link up with any sort of command that remains."
"The commanding officer in charge around here seems decent enough. So far, few reprisals against the civilians. I'd hate to see the situation change."
He nodded. "I'll take your suggestion into consideration, but I cannot walk away from the fight. Not while Temeria is under occupation."
"I don't blame you, and I wish you the best in your fight. I hope that, one day, the Three Lilies are flying above Vizima once again."
I walked away, relieved the meeting went as well and I slowly made my way back to Tomira to enjoy a final night with her.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
hackwriter29
hackwriter29 Just to add some more thoughts to those I put at the start (or was at the end) of the first chapter:
Obviously for all of my ideas to work, I will have to change a few things, perhaps mould characters slightly to fit the narrative I want for Ragnar. (One glaring one will be Geralt being mostly monogamous in regards to Yennefer, only sleeping with working girls, so certain relationships from the original Witcher, and also Witcher 2, won’t appear for him. And also the fact that, instead of Geralt, Ragnar will be shagging his way around the Continent…?)
But no matter what, this will still follow the overarching plot of Witcher 3, with my own thoughts and ideas in addition to that. I’ll be honest, I just can’t be bothered doing something completely original, mostly as I don’t have the time to do something on such a scale, so will at least try and make something interesting based on the story presented in the game. Just being honest here as I know some might enter with expectations.
One thing I will be trying to do is not include much game dialogue at all. No-one wants to read just a re-hash of what they read and hear for hours upon hours in the game, and as Ragnar is involved, it should lend itself to original dialogue. I will borrow bits and pieces here and there, where it makes sense.
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