The Islanders at Kaer Trolde gathered around the docks and a platform normally used as a lookout over the bay. Erimon, the leaders of the Druids in Skellige, stood there, along with three women, an old man, and Crach. The dark-haired woman in a dark red dress stood quietly, wiping away tears. Beside her, a younger woman with red hair in a green and gold dress wept. Erimon addressed the crowd who had come to see off their king.

"Our time amongst the living is but the wink of an eye," he said. "What's left when we are gone? How shall we be remembered? Will they speak of us with respect? Or disdain? Bran was a great man. We shall remember him as a hero."

Pallbearers passed by at that moment carrying the late king, a soldier tailing behind with Bran's shield. They laid him in a longboat docked there before stepping off and picking up oars to cast off the ship. The red-haired woman turned and started to walk towards the stairs of the platform. Erimon stopped her and they conversed a moment before she continued on her way. The woman boarded the ship and knelt next to Bran. Juray realized this was one of his wives as she laid her head on his chest. The pallbearers pushed the ship off and a smaller boat guided it towards the strait that led to the sea. Juray glanced up and noticed Erimon glaring a hole into the dark-haired woman's back. Crach lit a single arrow before aiming and releasing it. It sailed in a perfect arch before hitting the ship. As the ship began to burn, a single horn sounded to send off Bran and his wife to the afterlife.

"You look beautiful," a gruff voice said and both Yennefer and Juray turned their heads to their left to see Geralt had finally shown. Juray was relieved he survived.

Yennefer gave a smile, looking at Geralt. "Thank you," she said. "Nice to see you again." She looked back up at the platform. "The eulogy."

"King Bran of Clan Tuirseach has embarked on his final voyage," Erimon said. "At its end, our glorious ancestors await him. Together, they will hunt and raid. They will sit 'round the fire and praise the deeds of ages past. For now, he lives in our hearts. One day, we too shall stand at his side and face the sea together. That will be a good day."

"You knew Bran?" Geralt asked.

"Yes. He was well respected. Unlike his wife."

Crach then addressed the crowd. "Skellige is its clans. In times of war, tradition holds the clans unite under the leadership of their king. We've bid Bran farewell. Time to pick his successor, who will lead us against the Black Ones. The gates of Kaer Trolde stand open to all who held Bran of Clan Tuirseach dear. Meat and mead will be plentiful. During the wake, those who believe themselves worthy of the crown will step forth."

"Come to the wake with me?" Geralt asked Yennefer.

"Gladly. Feasts in Skellige, so predictable. Slobbering drunks, brazen boasting, and the inevitable rows that result..."

"Sounds like a typical Thursday at Kaer Morhen," Juray commented.

"Usually the inevitable row involves you and Lambert," Geralt said.

"Then you know which one of us is the boasting, slobbering drunk."

Geralt gave a small laugh for addressing Yennefer again. "Nothing like the banquets mages attend. Remember the one on Thanned?"

"You were there, how could I forget? I also remember excruciatingly well what happened after the banquet." Yennefer gave a smile and Geralt gave a slight smirk.

"Reading my mind again?"

"Mhm." Yennefer looked at him. "What's more, I like what I see."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that so my deviant little mind won't run wild," Juray said, causing smiles from her friends.

As the crowd dispersed to make their way to Kaer Trolde's castle, Yennefer, Geralt, and Juray stayed on the docks to update each other on their progress.

"How did you learn of Ciri?" Yennefer asked Juray.

"Ran into Geralt on a Contract in Velen. I had word he was in the area and seemed to be looking for someone. Geralt told me he was looking for Ciri and I offered to help him. Another tracker would not hurt in the hunt. And if what he says is true and it's a race against the Wild Hunt, then you need all the help you can get."

Yennefer nodded. "Did you learn anything in Velen?"

"Velen, awful place." Geralt said. "Somehow Ciri wound up at the castle of the local ruler, a baron, self-proclaimed. This was after she was injured."

"Injured?" Yennefer's voice held concern. "Was it serious?"

"Don't think so. Must've recovered, because this baron sent her to Novigrad. Think she was looking for you at the time. These witches Ciri came across, she was lucky to escape them."

Yennefer looked at Juray. "Witches?"

"I didn't join Geralt until after he met these witches. Locals call them the Ladies of the Wood, others called them the Crones."

"Creatures, more like. Can't say exactly what they are. But they're dangerous. Very. Also ran into an old friend of ours in Velen, Keira."

"What on earth is Keira Metz doing in that wasteland?"

"Hiding from Witch Hunters. Listen, she told me an elven mage had been there, looking for Ciri."

"Good. You'll need to tell me more when we have some time."

"Ciri was in Novigrad," Juray took up the report. "She was looking for a way to lift some curse. But she's disappeared again."

"You're certain she's still not in Novigrad?" Yennefer asked.

"Heard it from Jaskier," Geralt said. "With no embellishments."

"For once," Juray added.

"Do either of you know any more about this curse?"

"Not much. Ciri ran into some trouble, never finished what she went there to do. We recovered a phylactery, she was looking for a way to enchant it."

"I'll look at it later."

"How about you?" Geralt asked. "What've you learned?"

"Something strange happened on Ard Skellig a time ago. A disaster brought about by a burst of magic. Extraordinary, really, a natural anomaly. Never seen anything like it. My intuition tells me Ciri was its cause."

"As much as I respect your intuition, Yen, we need something specific, evidence."

"I'd know for certain if I was able to inspect the disaster zone. Unfortunately, Ermion and his druids aren't letting anyone near."

"Why not?" Juray asked.

"Call it a difference of opinion. A large, loud difference."

"You two had a fight over it, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"White Wolf!" Crach called as he approached them.

"Greetings, Crach," Geralt returned the greeting.

"I was hoping you'd arrive soon. Juray told us she had been traveling with you, but was separated when the ship you were on wrecked on the rocks during the storm. I shall see you at the wake. And I'll not accept any excuses, I've an important matter to discuss with you." He looked at Juray. "Both of you."

Geralt nodded and Crach left, heading toward the castle.

"I shall wear black and white for the feast," Yennefer said. "I count on you to don something complimentary. Something that doesn't reek of a thousand hunts."

"That explains why you're wearing a shieldmaiden's dress."

"We can find one for you if you're jealous."

Geralt looked at Yennefer. "Yen, you know I can't stand new doublets."

"And just like Crach, I'll not accept any excuses. We're not here to enjoy ourselves, we've matters to resolve and should dress appropriately. I've rented a room at the inn. Took the liberty of laying some clothes for you there once Juray told me she arrived with you. You ought to go, choose something. In the meantime, I've something to attend to. We'll all meet at the entrance to the feast hall."

"I'll make my way there now," Juray said, turning and heading towards Kaer Trolde's entrance.

Juray admired the view from the bridge as she waited for Yennefer and Geralt, the moonlight dancing off the water of the bay.

"You're no Islander," a woman's voice said and Juray turned to see the dark-haired woman from the platform was addressing her. "I saw you at the memorial with Lady Yennefer."

"I must stick out like a sore thumb then if you noted I'm no Islander."

"The swords on your back made you stick out. Yet you wear clothing fit for a shieldmaiden."

"I did not think wearing armor to the memorial and wake would be respectful."

"Lady Birna," Yennefer greeted, wearing a long black and white dress. "I see you've met my friend, Juray of Riverdell. Juray, allow me to introduce Bran's widow, Birna Bran."

"A pleasure," Juray lied.

"Then you are the famous White Demon."

"I was unaware that I was famous."

"The tale of the lady Witcher seems to inspire young girls to take up the sword. Particularly among Clan an Craite girls." Birna turned back to Yennefer. "Lady Yennefer. So pleased you've come to pay your respects to my dead husband."

"I knew Konung Bran well. His passing is the Isles' great loss."

"It is... We must do all we can to minimize its tragic consequences."

"Bran was a great ruler."

Juray turned her head as Geralt approached.

"He needs a worthy successor."

"You speak as though you have someone in mind."

"Skellige's troubles very much derive from it not being a hereditary monarchy. Any upstart can be king and destroy his predecessor's legacy."

"The King of the Isles is a more symbolic position."

"And that should change as well. A strong leader who wields true power, that is what the times require." Birna's attention went to Geralt as he joined them.

Yennefer motioned towards him. "This is my friend, Geralt." She then motioned back to Birna. "And this is Birna, widow of the dear departed Bran."

"The Queen Mother. It's a pleasure to meet you, Geralt. You must forgive me, but on a day like today, I'm afraid I cannot indulge in my penchant for long conversations." She turned and walked into the keep.

Yennefer turned to Geralt and looked him over. He was wearing a black and gold tunic and Yennefer sighed. "I can see you chose your own outfit. You know, of course, that together we look about as good as lace frills on a battle axe."

Juray rolled her eyes as Geralt shrugged.

"Everyone's got their style."

Juray thought he looked better in the tunic than the doublet he wore at the Vegabud ball.

"We should mingle before they all get drunk," he said. "There'll be no talking to anyone then."

"Good thinking. I don't know what Crach wants, but when we meet with him we should have clear minds."

"I'm not gonna drink. Why dull my senses when I'm in such pleasant company?"

Juray managed to keep them from seeing her amused look.

Yennefer smiled. "Do you plan to compliment me all evening?"

"I plan to tell you what I think."

Yennefer smiled again before turning and leading them into the castle. "Geralt, there's something I've been meaning to ask you."

"Hm?"

"Your beard. Why'd you decide to grow it out?"

Geralt had started to grow it out after the incident with Foltest. Previously, he'd kept himself clean-shaven whenever he could.

"Don't really know," he answered.

"Hm. Must say it suits you."

Juray saw the smile out of the corner of her eye and she rolled her eyes again, wondering if this meant they were going to start over and if she was done being pissed at him for what he did when he had amnesia. Or rather who he did. They approached an older man as they reached the feast hall.

"Lady Yennefer," he greeted with a bow. "Sir. Ma'am."

"Greetings, Arnvald," Yennefer said. "My companions are Geralt of Rivia and Juray of Riverdell."

Arnvald gave another bow. "I am honored."

"Pleasure to meet you," Juray responded.

"Quite a few guests," Geralt remarked.

"They come to bid their king farewell. They come to see the claimants to the crown."

"We wanted to talk to Crach an Craite."

"The jarl will join us shortly. He's assigned you a place of honor at the table, just beside his daughter, Cerys. Follow me, please." Arnvald led them to a table full of young men and a young woman.

"They've seated us here?" Yennefer asked.

"I asked them to," the young woman said, her fiery red hair and features were a spitting image of Crach. "Wanted to meet the notorious Witcher, Geralt." She turned to Juray. "Good to see you made it as well, Juray."

"Good to see you, Cerys."

"We've met," Geralt said. "Don't remember?"

Cerys waved her hand. "That was ages ago. Hjalmar and I were children when you last visited our da. But you should meet your feast-mates. Allow me the dubious honor." She motioned to the men, starting with the one on the very end. "That's Halbjorn, son of Holger Blackhand. Blueboy Lugos, Madman Lugos' firstborn." She then motioned to a young man that had a bowl to his lips. "And chokin' down the stockfish over there's Otrygg an Hindar."

Otrygg finished the bowl and gave a belch as the three outsiders took a seat.

"Seems they sat us with the sons of the jarls, exclusively."

"And daughter," Yennefer said. "You need to remember, Geralt, Jarls' daughters are in no way inferior to their sons. Like daughters on the mainland."

Cerys gave a smile. "Do you know every last one of 'em dreams of bein' Bran's successor? Look at 'em, likely lot."

"Cerys is jealous," Halbjorn said. "For the one among us who perform the greatest feat will be crowned king."

"We all know the feats are a sideshow," Cerys scoffed. "Our fathers will choose who will wear the crown. What d'you think they spoke to Crach about?"

"You talk like that 'cause you're short on strength and skill. Remember when Hjalmar challenged us all to a race up the mount? You didn't stand with us then. As he buried his axe in that stump at the top to mark his victory, you were warmin' your chicken bones by the fire."

Cerys glared at him. "Had my reasons for not participatin'. But I woulda won then, as I'd win now."

"Hm, now that you mention him...," Geralt said. "Just noticed Hjalmar's not here."

"You didn't notice how quiet this table was?" Juray said. "You know Hjalmar would be fighting with his sister."

"My brother walks his own paths," Cerys said. "But about the race... why don't we repeat it? I'm willin' to challenge any of you, Witchers included. If I beat Geralt to the top, venture to say that'd be a feat, eh? So, you in?"

"If the Witcher's in," Blueboy said.

"Geralt?" Yennefer asked.

"Gladly. What're the rules?"

Juray smiled. Geralt rarely turned down a race.

"Whoever pulls Hjalmar's axe from the stump at the top of the hill, wins," Cerys said. "Stray off the path, and you lose."

"And here I was ready to puke from all the boredom!" Blueboy said. "Let's go!"

Once the race between Geralt and Cerys began, the others decided to return to the warmth of the hall. A while later, the two returned and Juray immediately knew that Geralt had won the race.

"See the wake's in full swing," Geralt commented.

"Lost sight o' youse," Blueboy said. "Who won?"

"I lost," Cerys said dejectedly.

"Lost to a Witcher, Sparrowhawk," Otyrgg said reassuringly. "That'd likely happen to any of us." He took up his mug. "Enough of the natterin'. Let's drink!"

"Can't today, for good reason, believe me."

"If not today, then when?!" Halbjorn asked.

Blueboy saved Geralt from answering, directing his words to Juray. "How is it you became a Witcher? I always thought they only took in lads."

"I was a bit of a special circumstance," Juray answered. "A Witcher saved my parents and promised me to them before I was born. If he hadn't taken his reward, then we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I doubt you do the same monsters as the others."

Juray motioned towards the claw scars on her jaw and neck. "Because the higher vampire that did this was a walk in the park."

"I'm willing to wager that Juray could hold her own against any beast she comes across," Cerys said.

"You only say that because she's a woman," Halbjorn said.

"Not true. I've heard stories of the White Demon. And she has the scars to prove her hunts."

"Juray's taken down some impressive monsters," Geralt defended his friend.

"But I'll wager she's not as good a Witcher as the White Wolf," Halbjorn said as he took a drink.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Then let's prove it," Cerys said. "I propose a race between them."

"Come on," Blueboy said. "Geralt just beat you in a race. I've no doubt, he'll beat her as well."

"Then let it be a horse race," Juray suggested.

"Ha!" Otyrgg laughed. "Everyone knows men are superior in the saddle than women."

"All the more to prove that women can ride as well as men."

"I'm up for the challenge," Juray said.

"Let's do this!" Otyrgg hollered.

They met at the stables, mounting their horses, Geralt having found Shadowmount with Roach on the beach he woke up on.

"Ride across the bridge down to the water's edge and return," Halbjorn said. "Stray from the path and you lose. Got it?"

"Simple enough," Juray said.

"Start at the sound of my horn."

Halbjorn blew his horn and the two mares lurched forward, Geralt taking the lead at first. Halfway to the water, Juray pulled ahead of him. As they reached the water, they turned their horses, men at the ship there shouting at them in their native tongue. Juray lay low in the saddle, allowing Shadowmount more speed, a trick she learned long ago that Eskel had adopted and the two taught Ciri. And always pissed Lambert off to the point he wouldn't race either one of them. Geralt knew she would use that trick and smiled as he raced behind her, using the same tactic. Juray still kept ahead of him as they approached the bridge.

"Now!" Juray shouted and Shadowmount galloped with a burst of speed.

"Faster, Roach!"

Roach could not catch up with Shadowmount's reserved stamina and Juray reached the others first. And to three surprised faces. Juray dismounted as Geralt caught up to her.

"How...?" Halbjorn started.

"I'm lighter and faster, obviously," Juray answered. "And I can handle myself on a horse."

"Well, you've proved us wrong, Witcher."

"Good thing we weren't wagering," Geralt said.

"Buy me a drink at the next tavern we're at and we'll make it even," Juray said with a grin.

"Done."

"Let's go back inside," Otyrgg said. "And toast to Juray proving that women can ride as well as men."

~~~

After some bantering and more arguing between Halbjorn and Cerys, Yennefer stood.

"You've been great company. Sadly, it's time Geralt and I moved on. Juray will gladly continue to keep you company."

Juray raised a brow, knowing she was up to something.

"Really...?" Geralt asked.

"Indeed. We must talk. But not here. You shall learn all beyond that door."

The two left and Juray picked up the mug that had been set in front of Geralt that had remained untouched and held it up.

"To Bran!" she toasted. "May he want for nothing in the world beyond!"

"To Bran!"

The men returned the toast and they all drank. The men started talking about the feats they would perform and Cerys caught Juray's eye, nodding her head away from them.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, boys." She stood and headed over to where Cerys was standing.

"Look at them, boasting of the deeds they've yet to do," Cerys said with a scoff. "They are nothing but words." She crossed her arms. "And one of them will become king."

Juray glanced over at her. "I take it you have no faith in your friends."

Cerys motioned towards them. "Would you, if all they talked about was war and raiding Nilfgaardians. It is a matter of time before Nilfgaard invades our waters and they will easily take us if we do not unite. But these hotheads would jump on a chance for glory in war."

"What they need is someone who can unite them, not another hotheaded leader but someone who will stop and think about what their next move will be."

"Which is why I'm going to put myself forward as a claimant."

Juray looked over at her. "You are what Skellige needs," the Witcher agreed. "The question is, will the Jarls agree or will they only see you as another woman?"

"They overlook me, call me short of strength and skill, but they will see there is more to me than what they assume. And I have just the feat in mind that will prove I am worthy of becoming queen."

"I have no say in who the jarls chose, but I would back you over these glory-seeking hotheads. I wish you luck in this."

"Thank you, Juray. I may well need it."