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Summary
“White Wolf,” the man rasped as the Witchers stopped just before the table, “I have come to re-” he broke off in a cough, a painful sound that had Triss already out of her seat, hesitating just to the side of the man, ready to help when permitted. “To request asylum,” he continued, pushing off from the guards helping him and sinking to his knees, though whether in submission or pain, Geralt couldn’t be sure. “My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz,” he continued haltingly, struggling to get the words out, “I request sanctuary from Redania and Nilfgaard…” he stopped talking, swaying where he knelt, and Geralt hastily glanced to Eskel for advice.
Or: Geralt's the Warlord, and some random noble (Jaskier) comes walking in, badly injured, before collapsing in the main hall and leaving a FUCK ton of questions in his wake.
(Can be read as a standalone)Series
- Part 2 of All hell and its fire waits for us