The fire in the hearth kept the hall warm, driving away the chill seeping through the cracks around the doors and windows.
Dinner was a lavish affair.
Geralt and the other two had brought back ample supplies from the outside world, enough for them to hole up in the castle all winter without worrying about food, even if they did nothing.
The atmosphere around the dinner table was lively.
That was hardly surprising. Although Kaer Morhen was the School of the Wolf's stronghold, its witchers only gathered there in winter each year.
Even Vesemir, who was responsible for training the apprentices, went down the mountain alone every so often to take monster-hunting contracts in the villages at the foot of the Blue Mountains, earning money to feed them.
Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert were like children out making their way in the world, talking at length about everything they had experienced that year.
Vesemir was like an elderly father waiting at home, listening with a smile.
The atmosphere at the table was harmonious until Lambert mentioned a name.
"Did Berengar say whether he'd be coming back this winter?"
Geralt and Eskel abruptly stopped talking.
It was as though Lambert had mentioned something taboo.
Vesemir set down his beer and shook his head.
"I thought he'd come back with you."
Lambert looked displeased. "That little bastard. How many winters has it been since he came back? Has he forgotten who he is?"
"Lambert, have a drink." Geralt raised his cup and clinked it against Lambert's.
Berengar.
When Lambert mentioned that name, the outline of a man immediately surfaced in Lynn's mind.
Berengar was also a witcher of the School of the Wolf, but unlike Geralt and the others, he felt no sense of belonging to Kaer Morhen.
In fact, he loathed what he was and detested the world's hostility.
He longed to marry and have children like a normal person, without being spat at wherever he went because of his catlike eyes.
Unfortunately, being a witcher had robbed him of those possibilities.
That was precisely why, in the original story, he had left Kaer Morhen forever, never returning to the fortress with its warm hearth, a place he could call "home."
In that respect, Berengar and Lambert were somewhat alike. Neither had become a witcher because he wanted to.
The difference was that, for all his hatred of it, Lambert still considered Geralt and the others comrades and family.
Berengar, however, wanted to sever all ties with anything connected to witchers.
"Let's stop talking about these unhappy things. Let's talk about something else."
Eskel took out two brand-new decks of cards and set them on the table.
They immediately drew everyone's attention.
"I guarded a dwarven caravan a while back. The caravan leader gave me these."
"He told me this card game, called Gwent, was originally a tabletop game with a long history among dwarves. Now it's slowly spreading, and in some places it's already starting to replace dice."
Lambert spat out a mouthful of beer. "Seriously, Eskel? You actually believe that crap?"
Eskel wiped the beer off his face.
"I don't know whether it'll replace dice, but I've played a few rounds, and it really is a lot more interesting than just rolling dice to see who gets the higher number. Well? Want to play?"
Faced with something new and unfamiliar, the elderly Vesemir showed little interest.
Then Geralt and Lambert both waved their hands, unwilling to be the first to try it.
But just then, Lynn suddenly volunteered. "Can I give it a try?"
"Well..."
Eskel looked at Vesemir.
Lynn immediately realized what Eskel was worried about.
So he quickly said, "We'll just play cards. No gambling."
Surprisingly, Vesemir was quite open-minded. "It's fine. A flower raised in a greenhouse has to face the wind and rain outside someday. Since it's bound to happen sooner or later, getting rained on a little early isn't a bad thing."
That put Eskel at ease.
"If the old man says so, I've got no objections. Listen, here's how the rules work..."
In fact, Gwent was an ancient dwarven pastime.
Its rules had been established long ago.
It was just that, until now, the game had only been popular among dwarves.
Before long, however, Gwent would spread widely among humans, dwarves, elves, and halflings.
When that happened, a rare card made by a dwarven master would even be regarded as a work of art.
Lynn and Eskel sat on opposite sides of the table.
Once the rules had been explained, the two officially began their match.
The others stood nearby and watched.
Half an hour later...
"Damn it, that's impossible."
Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert were all dumbfounded.
Even the experienced old witcher Vesemir looked astonished.
Dozens of gold coins from various countries gleamed in the firelight, stacked in a small pile in front of Lynn.
Half an hour earlier, those coins had belonged to Eskel.
Lynn did his best to keep his expression under control, not wanting to look too carried away with his own success.
In fact, the two decks Eskel had brought out were both basic Northern Realms decks.
The two decks were much the same.
So, in a situation like this, skill was the only thing that mattered.
As far as the others knew, he had only encountered Gwent that evening.
None of them could have imagined that he was actually a Gwent player with over a thousand hours of playtime.
"How about I give it a try?"
Lambert had initially been uninterested as he watched from the side, but after seeing Lynn and Eskel battle it out, he couldn't help itching to play.
Well, what do you know? This thing really is kind of interesting.
As Lynn gathered up the cards on the table, he smiled and said, "Want me to teach you the rules first?"
Lambert snarled, "Don't get so cocky, brat. I'll beat you so badly you'll be calling me Daddy."
Another half hour later.
"Who's getting beaten into calling the other guy Daddy now?"
Lynn wore a smile.
Sitting across from him, Lambert threw down his cards in frustration.
"This crap will never catch on! If it does, I'll eat every last one of these cards!"
"Hahaha-"
Geralt and Eskel doubled over with laughter.
After all, opportunities to laugh at Lambert like this didn't come often.
Holding back his laughter, Lynn looked at the White Wolf. "Anyone else want to play? Geralt?"
After seeing Eskel and Lambert lose one after the other, Geralt had no desire to enter the fray. He quickly waved his hands. "I'll pass. I'd rather spend my money on booze or pussy."
Seeing that no one else was willing to play, Lynn gathered the scattered cards on the table back into two decks and handed them to Eskel.
But Eskel only took one.
Lynn looked at him in puzzlement.
"That deck's yours," Eskel said.
"In that case." Lynn accepted the cards without hesitation, then pushed the money Eskel had just lost to him back in front of Eskel.
"Take this money back, then. I won't take the hard-earned money you worked so hard for out there."
The air suddenly fell silent.
Surprise showed in Geralt's and Eskel's eyes, and even in Lambert's.
Only Vesemir's face was filled with gratification and approval.
"It's getting late. Time to get some rest, lads."
Vesemir stood up.
But immediately afterward, his expression suddenly grew grave.
"Did you hear that?"
Lynn froze at his words.
Then he heard it too: extremely faint footsteps, almost impossible to hear without the mutations.
Everyone in the hall looked toward the entrance at once.
A man stepped out of the shadows and into the firelight.
His hair was the color of ash, with snow-white streaks at his temples. His face was as pale as a corpse, his nose hooked, and a pair of vertical pupils sat within his yellow-green eyes.
He pulled a silver medallion out from beneath his shirt.
It hung around his neck, gleaming in the firelight.
It was a cat's head, baring its fangs.