A WEEK PASSED -
The first flakes of winter drifted lazily through the cold morning air, settling softly on the stones of Kaer Morhen's main courtyard. The mountains beyond were already touched with snow, their peaks fading into mist, and the keep's courtyard echoed with the sound of wooden swords clashing.
Sebastian's small, determined body was moving as best as he could, following Lambert's swift strikes and parries. The oversized tunic from last week had been replaced with something more manageable, though still a bit too loose. His eyes, sharp and golden, reflected the pale gray light of the day as he twisted and attacked, the snowflakes clinging to his hair.
"Move! Pirouette, always must be followed by a back cross parry. Always! Just like the old man says!" Lambert barked, striking again and stepping back to let Sebastian recover. His face was streaked with frost and sweat, eyes glinting with a mix of annoyance and approval.
Sebastian countered, wood meeting wood with a small thwack. "Not bad, kid," Lambert said, smiling despite himself. "Again. And don't forget, always follow through. You'll be fighting monsters not humans."
Vesemir and Eskel leaned against the low wall, swords resting across their knees, keeping a careful eye on the boy while also tending to the horses tied nearby. Their breaths steamed in the cold air, and Vesemir shook his head slowly.
"I'll be honest," Vesemir murmured, almost to himself, "I'm impressed. Wooden sword, yes… but how many can hold something like that at six years old? Balance, form… he's got it all in him."
Eskel adjusted the strap of a horse's saddle, giving a small chuckle. "True enough. Still, there's so much more to teach him, sign casting, knowledge about our craft. Patience, strategy, how to read an opponent. Wooden swords are just the beginning."
Vesemir let a small grin cross his face. "For the knowledge part, we've got all winter for that, I suppose. I have a feeling he'll be a quick study since he is well spoken at a young age, I'd say faster than most, even." He leaned slightly forward as he watched Sebastian pivot, duck, and strike. "Look at him, even Lambert seems to be enjoying this."
Eskel's laugh rang out, loud and warm. "Aye, I'd say he has. But he won't admit it. I only trained Seb for a couple of days, and then Lambert took over immediately. He wanted it, more than he'll ever say aloud."
Vesemir shook his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. "And I thought I'd seen it all in my age. A boy six years old, learning faster than well trained boys, and Lambert taking a shine to him without even knowing it."
Lambert's strike stopped mid-swing, his face briefly flickering toward the elder witcher, eyes narrowed, but there was a hint of pride in the way he stood. "Keep up, kid," he muttered. "I'm not holding back."
Sebastian's lips curved into a small, determined smile. "Wouldn't want you to, sir."
Vesemir leaned back, letting the cold bite at his cheeks. "I just hope he keeps this fire, through winter and beyond."
Eskel chuckled, shaking the reins of the horse he had been tending. "And I have no doubt. If he keeps this up, Kaer Morhen might be seeing another famous witcher, Geralt got some competition."
Lambert barked another order, and the snow swirled around Sebastian as he lunged again.
Snow thickened into a proper curtain, flakes struck stone harder now, driven sideways by the wind. The courtyard was turning treacherous.
Vesemir watched Sebastian slip once, catch himself, and immediately correct his footing. That was enough.
"Alright," the old witcher called out, voice carrying easily over the wind. "That's it. Training's done."
Lambert lowered his wooden sword with a click of his tongue. "Hah. About time. Another ten minutes and I'd be teaching the kid how to fight with frozen fingers."
Sebastian straightened, breath misting in front of him. "I can keep going."
Lambert gave him a sideways look. "Didn't say you couldn't. Said you shouldn't. Big difference." He tapped Sebastian's shoulder with the flat of the wooden blade. "You did good today. Real good. That means you stop before you break something."
Vesemir nodded in agreement. "Snow's only going to get worse."
Eskel rolled his shoulders. "Besides, if Lambert loses his fingers, he'll complain all winter."
They headed inside together, boots crunching through fresh snow until the keep's doors swallowed the sound of the storm. Warmth hit them slowly, the fire's glow pushing back the cold inch by inch.
Lambert took Sebastian's wooden sword and rested it against the table. "Sit. Eat something if there's anything left. And don't move like an old man when you stand up."
Sebastian obeyed, sitting near the hearth, hands stretched toward the flames. His arms trembled now that the adrenaline was gone.
Eskel noticed and smirked. "First week always does that. Tomorrow it'll hurt worse."
Sebastian blinked. "That's… not encouraging."
"That's honesty," Eskel replied.
For a moment, it was just that fire, wind, the familiar sounds of Kaer Morhen settling around them.
Then Vesemir's expression shifted.
Subtly.
He straightened, head turning toward the main doors.
Lambert noticed instantly. "Outside."
Eskel went still, listening. "You hear it too?"
Sebastian frowned. He hadn't at first, but then it came to him. Hooves. Distant. Steady. Cutting through snow that would've slowed most travelers.
"Nevermind," Eskel said quietly.
Lambert crossed his arms. "Only one fool rides into these mountains this late, two more days and it would have been worse for him."
Sebastian looked between them, curiosity flickering. "Who?"
Vesemir smiled, just a little. "White hair. Bad temper. Likes to pretend he doesn't care."
Eskel chuckled. "Couldn't have said it better myself."
Sebastian tilted his head, listening harder now. The sound was clearer.
Vesemir nodded once. "Yeah…" His voice carried something close to fondness. "It's Geralt, alright."
Another neigh echoed through the storm outside.
Lambert smiled. "Seems like we are drinking tonight."
Sebastian's lips curved into a smile.
He said nothing.
The name lingered in the air 'Geralt' and to the others it was just that: a name, a familiar presence returning to Kaer Morhen with the winter. To Sebastian, it was more. Much more. But he kept it buried behind calm eyes and steady breathing.
Lambert noticed the smile anyway. He narrowed his eyes. "What's that look for, kid?"
Sebastian blinked, the expression gone almost instantly. "Nothing," he said lightly. "Just looking forward to see him, Eskel told me about him, and how important he is."
Eskel chuckled. "Important's one word for it. Annoying's another."
Vesemir snorted. "You'll meet him soon enough. He's family, in his own grumbling way."
Sebastian nodded, gaze drifting back toward the door as another distant sound reached them, the scrape of iron-shod hooves on stone this time, closer now
"The white wolf himself, is here.." He thought.
None of them noticed the way Sebastian's golden eyes gleamed just a fraction brighter in the firelight, nor how comfortable he suddenly seemed, as though another piece of the world he became part of had quietly clicked into place.
/-\
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