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With lives as long as Witchers have, Eskel has grown accustomed to the sort of world shattering change that came one in a decade or so. Or, not accustomed exactly, because change is by its very nature impossible to grow accustomed to. But he’s learned to expect it when some lord went to their king to protest and suddenly the Guild was being petitioned to reshape the way they did things again, for better or worse. Usually worse.
So when a package is delivered, larger and heavier than the missives he usually receives, he was expecting a lengthy petition. Or perhaps summons to appear before some distant court. Hearing that it was from a Stationkeeper made him worry more that there was some internal complaint, and he couldn’t decide if he would rather it was a legitimate or a fanciful one. Perhaps it's just a sample, he thinks, considering the box, someone just sent it to him by accident rather than the labs.
With that fortifying thought he opens the cargo pod, revealing a smaller wrapped bundle inside and a letter laid on the top. He reads the letter first, catching the faint scent of rosewater salve as he opens the seal. Inside the contents proved far better than he was expecting.
To Master Eskel, Scion of the Wolf School and Guildmaster of the Witcher’s Guild,
I hope you will not find this letter too forward, indeed I hope you find it a pleasant interruption to an otherwise busy day. I have thought long and hard and determined that, while this cannot express the enormity of my gratitude, it is perhaps the truest form in which I can express it.
For you have saved me, surely as if you had stood between me and danger on a trip through the warp. Without going overly into the details I will say only this: At my time of greatest need your Guild provided me succor, a salvation I could not have received by any other means.
Now I find myself not only safe, but comfortable, and with a growing sense of purpose I had never thought to find before my arrival at this Station. And so I find myself wishing to thank you, in some small way. For the security you have unknowingly provided. For the kindness and care I can see in the crafting of these stations to keep those manning them secure and well prepared for anything the warp might throw at us.
So, since my gratitude is something beyond what words might express, and my means are somewhat more limited than I might once have been able to provide, I have decided to craft you a gift with my own hands. Enclosed please find an embroidered quilt of my own making. I hope the pattern brings you some small joy, it made me smile when the idea first occurred to me.
In deepest gratitude,
Milena, Stationkeeper Station 36
Eskel finds himself smiling faintly, wonderingly at the reminder that there are people out there who might see the Guild as protectors rather than terrifying aberrations. The fact that this Stationkeeper felt strongly enough about her gratitude to send him a blanket spoke volumes, as did the faint smell of contentment still lingering on the paper. It was easy to forget sometimes that in this endless slog the Guild really was making a difference to people. Mood lifted he opens the wrapped parcel next, lifting the blanket out of the cargo pod only to immediately drop it.
Because after the split second sensation of soft fibers under his fingers there had been a rush of something else, a deep magic. Something he would have thought was a mage’s trap if it hadn’t also been accompanied by a deep feeling of warmth, of gratitude, and an earnest desire for his continued wellbeing that was even now soothing away the lingering exhaustion at the back of his mind. After only touching it for a moment he felt like he was waking invigorated from a good night’s sleep.
He picks the blanket up off his desk, bracing himself for the sensation this time, and gently unfolds it. The underlying quilt is a geometric pattern, tessellating scraps of fabric going from a mix of vibrant greens at the bottom, through golds and whites, to greys and brilliant blues at the top. And on top of the geometric pattern is stitched delicate embroidery, making use of the shifting colors to outline a mountain scene, with scattered marigolds amid the green grass and shifting golds. Goats grazing where gold-and-white meets white-and-gray at the foot of a mountain outlined in cool blue-grey stitching. And in the blues above it all are delicate clouds and a sun picked out so that it looks like nothing so much as a slightly whiter marigold. One of the goats is even trying to entice another to play while being firmly ignored.
It does make him smile, helped along by the warmth of it, the feeling of gratitude and well wishes wrapping him in a rush of soft healing that makes the tense muscles in his neck relax. Eskel wonders for a moment what an artisan mage had been running from that brought her to the guild, and if this was intended as simple gratitude or also as an application. But he finds, for once, it doesn’t really matter. He can feel her sincerity, and the kindness of her gift. He fully intends to offer her a lifelong contract at the earliest opportunity, a place in the Guildhall if she’d like.
But first he decides he wants to share this with Geralt, and wrap his cranky wolf up in borrowed sunlight for a little while.
Geralt is doing the monthly maintenance on Roach when he senses Eskel approaching. Since Eskel is supposed to be in his office for another few hours Geralt quickly detaches from the console and comes down the ramp to meet him, mind already racing to try to figure out what’s wrong.
Only, nothing appears to be wrong at all. Eskel is smiling, and holding a brightly colored blanket draped over one arm, offering him a warm smile when he notices Geralt’s worry.
“Wolf,” he rumbles, sounding cheerful and well-rested in a way Geralt hasn’t seen him in years. “I just got a package from one of our Stationkeepers,” Eskel explains, holding out the blanket over his arm. “Wanted to see if you feel the same thing I did before I send someone running off to see if she’d be interested in adjusting her contract.”
Geralt’s eyebrows rise, studying the blanket suspiciously. The blanket made Eskel smile like that? Because it felt like… what? Humming noncommittally he holds out his hands, not missing the way Eskel smirks faintly as he drops the folded blanket into his waiting hands.
He still almost drops it. Not because of the weight, it hardly weighs anything compared to his swords, but because of the rush of genuine warmth, gratitude, and gentle wishes for Eskel’s care and wellbeing. Geralt manages to hang onto it, losing himself for a moment in the echo of his own wishes, if a shade off, before glancing down at the embroidered goat in the middle of the section facing him.
“Right animal,” he teases, offering the blanket back to Eskel with a sharp nod.
Eskel rolls his eyes at the teasing but his smile is still bright. “I don’t know if she guessed or if the magic guided her somehow, but I expect our new Stationkeeper is a hidden artesian mage.” He shakes his head in delighted disbelief, accepting the blanket back. “You feel it too, right? The energy in it. Like a good night’s rest.”
Now that Eskel mentions it Geralt can feel it. A warm healing buzz that makes him just that much more alert, clearing the ache of stress from the muscles along his shoulders and the base of his neck.
“Hmm… potent.”
Eskel nods. “I want to send someone to the station to ask her to move here. I’m not sure what she’s running away from, but I doubt it can take on the whole Guild to get to her. Will you go, Wolf?”
Geralt hums, thoughtfully. He would go wherever Eskel asked to bring back someone who made blankets that made Eskel smile like that. But negotiating… he grimaces faintly, meeting Eskel’s eyes.
“Might need a second. To explain.”
Eskel’s smile turned soft, understanding, and he thought for a moment before nodding. “Take Voltehre. Lambert and Aiden went on another deep-warp trip a few days ago and he’s only going to be at loose ends until they return.”
Geralt hums again, grateful, and takes the opportunity to bump their shoulders together in quiet support. A trace of the blanket’s warmth carries over through the touch and Eskel beams at him.
“Thanks Wolf. Finish maintenance first. I’ll find Voltehre and let him know. Oh, and the Stationkeeper, her name is Milena. From Station 36.”