Chapter Text
Julian was not in the habit of waking up before dawn. On the Path, the birds had been allowed to sing before Geralt nudged him awake. Even when running his tavern Julian had stolen an extra hour or two in bed before getting to work. Still, he valiantly managed to wake up and hobble down to the kitchen.
Someone had prepared the kitchen for his use. A stool sat in the corner. It was at the perfect height to let him sit while working at the counter. Geralt had procured a cane for him days ago, and he propped it against the wall in case he needed it later.
The first thing Julian did was grab the logbook Vesemir told him about. It listed each type of food in the pantry and the current quantity. Blank spaces remained at the bottom of the list. Julian assumed that’s where they would record whatever food they hunted or foraged for during the winter. He memorized the quantities of food he had to work with and tried to decide what to make. It was a difficult job. Julian was used to cooking for large groups of people, but he also always had a steady supply of food. Now that they were snowed in for the next several months, they couldn’t go run off to the market if Julian miscalculated. Finally, he decided on cooking eggs and sausage, knowing that both the eggs and meat could be replenished later in winter.
It was a slow process transferring the ingredients from the pantry to the kitchen, especially when his ankle started acting up and he needed to rely on his cane. He still had about half of the ingredients left to grab when he heard footsteps.
Who could be up at this hour? Julian remembered requesting an assistant to help with the first week or two of cooking while Julian’s ankle continued to heal. It couldn’t have been Ciri, who had her only early morning task to deal with, and he knew Geralt had still been asleep when he’d crept out of the room this morning. Maybe Coën had volunteered to help?
It was certainly a surprise when Julian poked his head into the kitchen and saw Vesemir himself. He’d assumed the old wolf wanted nothing to do with cooking ever again after Vesemir had dumped the duty onto Julian without hesitation.
“What do you need me to do?” Vesemir asked. He stood in the center of the kitchen, taking in the pans and ingredients Julian had already gathered.
After getting over his shock, Julian said, “I’d appreciate your help in grabbing the last few ingredients. I can’t carry much at the moment.”
Vesemir nodded and followed Julian into the pantry. He didn’t comment when Julian pointed to the stock of preserved meat, so he assumed he hadn’t messed anything up yet. They set everything on the counter and started preparing the ingredients. Julian whisked the eggs while Vesemir started the fire with a short burst of Igni.
They cooked in silence. It was unbearable to Julian. He’d started humming again while he cooked, or even singing a song under his breath, but now he felt the sound clog up his throat. Julian had bonded with the other witchers well enough during their time at Kaer Morhen so far, but he still felt awkward around Vesemir. He was clearly a father figure to Geralt, even if the man wouldn’t admit it, and Julian needed to continue making a good impression with Vesemir. There would be times in the future where he made a complete fool of himself, he was sure, so he needed to build a strong relationship now before he undid all of that work.
“Tell me about your tavern,” Vesemir said. It broke the silence so suddenly, Julian wasn’t sure what to say at first. There was still the small part of him that had buried deep into his brain after the mountain that said he needed to keep quiet if he didn’t want people to leave him. Vesemir had asked, though, and he didn’t seem the type to make small talk if he didn’t want to.
“It’s called The Chameleon,” Julian began. He focused on the food he was pushing around in a pan instead of looking at Vesemir. He knew some of the others thought of The Chameleon as just a building, a place he worked. It was so much more than that to him. The Chameleon had given him a purpose. It had introduced him to many of his closest friends. It had given him his voice back. “I bought it when it was just a crumbling building. It took over a year to restore it. The first floor is a tavern. There’s a space for Callonetta, our resident bard, to perform, as well as a good selection of liquor. The upper floors are used as an inn.”
Julian found himself loosening up as he spoke. He smiled as he thought of Priscilla and Zoltan running the tavern in his absence. Julian knew they were both capable adults, but he still imagined there would be a bit of chaos without him there to temper them.
“And what about the people? They nice?” Vesemir prompted. Julian glanced at him. He could see a slight furrow in Vesemir’s brow. He must be worried about Geralt, Julian thought. With how he’d seen other towns treat witchers, it was a concern Julian could understand.
“Oh they’re wonderful,” Julian said. He saw the slightest amount of tension leave Vesemir’s shoulders. “The alderman is one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. He gave me a place to stay when I didn’t have a home of my own yet. He has dedicated his life to turning Vitrove into a town where everyone is accepted, and I daresay he’s succeeded. The rest of the townsfolk seem to have picked up his generous spirit. They all help each other. When Geralt first arrived, they were ecstatic to have a witcher in town, especially when Geralt was so eager to help them.”
Vesemir gave a curt nod. He was harder to read than even Geralt, but Julian could guess he was satisfied with the responses he’d gotten. They lapsed back into silence. Julian felt better after sharing, but he didn’t want to go back to working in silence, so he said, “Would you mind telling me about what Kaer Morhen used to be like? There is so much history in these halls.”
Julian was sure Vesemir would ignore him or refuse to speak, but instead he began to talk. He told Julian stories from hundreds of years ago when Vesemir was first starting out on the Path. He shared a few stories from his time as the head instructor. He talked about his pups, how Lambert used to follow Geralt and Eskel around like an imprinted duckling. Julian noticed Vesemir was careful to avoid any stories of the tragic sides of growing up as a witcher, and Julian didn’t press him about it. He simply enjoyed the trust Vesemir had put in him by sharing such personal stories.
They finished cooking far sooner than Julian had expected. “Thank you for your aid, Vesemir,” Julian said as they placed the last dishes on the table.
Vesemir gave a very Geralt-like grunt. “Figured you’d need some what with your leg and all.”
Julian smiled. He said, “Well I appreciate it nonetheless. I enjoyed talking with you.”
Vesemir just grunted again and went to fill up his plate, but Julian thought he could see the faintest hint of a smile on his face. Julian was sure Vesemir would volunteer to help him cook next time as well.
The rest of Kaer Morhen trickled into the dining hall one or two at a time. Unlike lunch and dinner, which were eaten as a group, breakfast was eaten whenever the others decided to wake up. Ciri’s morning chores required her to wake up only a little later than Julian, so she ate her breakfast with him, Vesemir, and Geralt. Eskel and Coën followed soon after, and Lambert and Aiden stumbled in an hour later. Julian’s only mandatory chores were cooking and cleaning the dishes, so once he’d finished eating his breakfast, he requested everyone leave their dirty dishes in the kitchen and set off.
Julian was drawn to the library, but he decided to leave it alone for now. As excited as he was to bring the library to its full potential, his ankle was starting to act up. He needed to rest his foot for a bit, and he’d need someone to help him take all the books off the shelves and with everyone currently working on their own chores, their assistance wasn’t available right now. It was also Julian’s first day as head cook. He would need some time to adjust to the schedule and to figure out what time he’d need to return to the kitchen to start the next meal.
He glanced down the hallway that led to the library in a promise to return soon, and instead headed back to his and Geralt’s room. He audibly groaned in relief once he lowered himself into a chair. A footrest had been brought in for him, so he propped his leg up and grabbed his lute and notebook. There were still a few hours until he should head back to the kitchen, and Julian knew exactly how he wanted to spend his free time.
It had been a little difficult to start composing again after going years without it. After a year of working on it, though, it was as if Julian had never stopped. His notebook was stuffed with snippets of lyrics and melodies, as well as a few new songs he’d composed. Julian closed his eyes and strummed a few chords on his lute, testing out new combinations to match the words brewing in his mind. He hummed a tune and then experimented with lyrics. Once he’d found a good idea, he jotted it down in his notebook and picked his lute back up.
It would be easy to lose himself in composition; Julian knows he’s done it countless times before. Now, however, he had a responsibility. Every time he felt himself slipping deeper into composition mode, he gently pulled himself closer to the surface. Once he heard Ciri in the hallway returned from her chores, he put his lute away and grabbed his cane.
Lunch was easier to prepare. Vesemir helped him wash the dishes from breakfast and then they set about cooking. As they worked, Vesemir agreed to tell Julian another story. Julian imagined hundreds of instances like this in the future as they worked together to create three meals a day for the next several months. That would be a lot of stories shared, but Julian thought that between the two of them they could manage.
As if summoned, everyone in the keep entered the dining hall at once for lunch. They ate together, making sure to compliment Julian on his work, and then they left together. Ciri had ecstatically told Julian that today would be her first day sparring against one of the witchers. He promised to come watch her after he finished cleaning up.
He and Vesemir worked quickly to properly store the leftovers and wash the dishes. Once they’d finished, they both headed to the courtyard.
Ciri was finishing her warm up when Julian arrived. He nodded to her with an encouraging smile and found a spot out of the way to observe. Eskel grabbed a training sword and headed over to Ciri. Julian was sure Geralt hadn’t been considered for the spar since he’d already spent a year training with Ciri and would thus be too familiar for her. Lambert must have been disqualified because of the likelihood he’d resort to fighting dirty. Aiden’s fighting style was a bit… unconventional at times, and Coën was likely to go too easy on Ciri. Eskel certainly seemed to be the best choice.
At Geralt’s signal, the spar began. Ciri didn’t hesitate to lunge forward with an attack. Even though she’d only had a week or so of training at Kaer Morhen, Julian could already see improvement. The winner of the fight was almost guaranteed to be Eskel, but he could see Ciri was still putting up a valiant effort. She blocked Eskel’s attacks and evaded with complicated footwork that impressed Julian. They continued their back and forth for a few minutes before Eskel knocked the sword out of Ciri’s hands.
Ciri panted and her face was flushed from the exertion, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Julian cheered for her on the sidelines, and she accepted the praise with a bow.
“She’s improved immensely,” Julian whispered to Geralt as the others returned to their drills.
Geralt smiled. “And she’ll keep getting better.” Then he shouted, “Ciri, come over here! I noticed a few points to work on.”
She groaned and grabbed her sword. Julian chuckled and found a bit of wall to rest against. He watched as Geralt explained some of Ciri’s mistakes and even though she didn’t seem all that happy to hear them, she still listened attentively. Once they’d finished, Ciri scurried off to work on the drills the other witchers were practicing. Geralt and Lambert decided to spar, and it only served to prove Julian right as he saw Lambert throw a handful of snow in Geralt’s eyes and then try to kick out Geralt’s leg. Geralt still managed to fight with grace and quickly took down Lambert. He was truly beautiful when he fought, his hair whipping around him in a flurry and his arms flexing to the rhythm of the fight.
Sooner than he would have liked, it was time for Julian to start cooking dinner. Vesemir had remained behind to continue overseeing training, so Julian started working on the things he could do without assistance. First, he mixed some dough to bake into rolls. While he greatly appreciated Vesemir’s presence as he cooked, Julian found it nice to have some time to himself. He hummed one of Priscilla’s songs as he kneaded the dough, and he could almost pretend he was back in The Chameleon’s kitchen. It seemed a bit ridiculous to imagine himself back at work while he was on vacation, but Julian couldn’t help missing his tavern. He was sure, however, that as soon as he returned to Vitrove he would find himself fantasizing about being back at Kaer Morhen.
Once Vesemir returned, they started preparing a few chickens to roast. After that, they prepared some vegetables and put the rolls in the oven. A small feast was shaping up before Julian’s eyes.
The witchers and Ciri had decided to train as long as they could, so they filtered in from the courtyard just as the food finished cooking. They were positively ravenous, and there was little conversation as everyone ate their fill.
After dinner had been eaten and cleaned up, Geralt said, “I want to show you something.”
Julian nodded and followed him down a number of winding corridors until they reached a set of stairs Julian hadn’t seen before. They climbed down multiple flights—Geralt insisting on going slow for Julian’s sake—until they entered a wide chamber. Julian was immediately hit with a shock of humidity. The chamber was like a sauna compared to the rest of the drafty keep. As he looked around, he spotted multiple pools of cloudy mineral water. Ciri was in one of the pools while the rest of the witchers were scattered between a few of the others.
“What is this place?” Julian asked, his eyes wide.
“The hot springs,” Geralt explained. “The best part of Kaer Morhen.”
Julian lightly smacked Geralt’s chest. “And you kept this hidden from me until now? You cruel man!”
Geralt chuckled. “Couldn’t submerge your ankle until now, remember? Thought I’d wait to show you until you could actually enjoy them.”
Julian couldn’t argue with that logic, not when he knew he would have pestered Geralt every day asking if he was finally allowed in. “Well, I better make the most of them now then,” he said and gestured for Geralt to lead him further into the room.
Geralt happily obliged and showed Julian to the changing area. They stripped and picked out some soaps and oils to use. The cane wouldn’t help much with the slippery stone, so Geralt supported Julian as they walked over to one of the pools. He immediately sank into the water with a pleased groan and perched on a naturally forming ledge.
Geralt quickly followed him in. He submerged completely underwater and surfaced a moment later with his hair plastered to his face. Julian gestured for Geralt to turn around, and Geralt immediately complied, placing himself between Julian’s legs. Julian worked the soap into a lather and started washing all the sweat out of Geralt’s hair. There were a few particularly difficult knots, but Julian worked through each one with care. Geralt melted against Julian as he worked, and soon a deep rumbling came from Geralt’s chest. Julian couldn’t help grinning. It was always nice to see the usually taciturn witcher so unguarded.
Once Julian had finished his ministrations, Geralt gestured for Julian to move. He had begun to insist on returning the favor, so Julian didn’t put up a fight and instead took Geralt’s previous seat. He relaxed against Geralt’s chest and closed his eyes as Geralt started to massage Julian’s scalp. Geralt’s hands were rough with calluses, but his touch was gentle as he carded through Julian’s hair. It wasn’t long before Julian found himself nodding off.
Eventually it was time for them to get out of the pool. After a nice long soak and a tiring day, Julian was ready to collapse into his bed and relax on his own. He told Geralt as much and headed back to their room while Geralt went to the lounge with some of the other witchers. As Julian climbed into bed, he considered what to do. Then, the xenovox went off.
Fuck. Yennefer had given it to him so she could contact him if needed. What could have possibly happened? Had The Chameleon burned down?
Julian scrambled through his saddlebag, groping blindly for the xenovox. When he found it, he demanded, “What’s happened?”
“Julek,” Yennefer drawled.
After a pause, he said, “What’s the matter, Yenna?”
Yennefer sighed. “Nothing’s the matter. Other than this incredibly boring town.” There was a pause, as if Yennefer was contemplating if she should continue with what she’d intended to say. “You led me to believe there was interesting gossip here, but do you know what’s the only thing people have talked to me about this week? The cobbler’s daughter becoming engaged to one of the baker’s boys.”
Julian gasped. “Jakob finally proposed?”
“Not you too!” Yennefer groaned. “Have you lost your touch? You used to perform in royal courts! I know you’ve spread your fair share of gossip—some of it was about me! Surely you can entertain me better than this.”
Julian paused. Now that he was worn out from the day and properly pampered in the hot springs, Julian had wanted to lounge under some warm blankets for a few hours and perhaps read one of the books that had caught his eye. And yet, he was a performer at heart. If the lady wanted entertainment, he would provide.
“Well, I suppose I have a few stories I could share,” he said.
Before they got started, Yennefer insisted Julian grab a bottle of wine while she poured herself a glass. They each got comfortable, and then Julian began. He recounted gossip he’d heard in court the last year he’d performed as a bard. Yennefer in turn told him of her time serving as a court sorceress. It fascinated him seeing how little courts had changed over the years. Once they’d exhausted the topic, Julian told Yennefer about his time at Kaer Morhen, and Yennefer finally shared a few stories from the month she’d spent in Vitrove. Julian was sure it would annoy Yennefer to no end, but he couldn’t help comparing their conversation to the ones Julian would have during girls night.
After hours of talking, Yennefer decided she’d been thoroughly entertained. She made it clear to Julian that she would call again the next time she became particularly bored, and Julian found himself looking forward to it.
Once the xenovox’s magic ended, Julian placed it on the table and crawled under the blankets. He thought of Yennefer, alone in his cottage, or perhaps with Tofik if she allowed the cat close enough to her. He hoped Yennefer would grow more comfortable around her neighbors in the coming months. Julian had faith in them; Vitrove’s people were particularly capable of becoming friends with even the surliest of people. After all, they’d accepted Geralt with no problems. Julian wondered how Yennefer would fare in the coming months and what she would do once they’d returned. Perhaps Yennefer would find a place in Vitrove just as the rest of them had. Yes, Julian thought. That would be lovely. He promptly fell asleep.