Chapter Text
For once, life has been treating Jaskier well. He had just finished his magister’s degree in polish linguistics and philology at the Faculty of Polish Studies at Warsaw University. Even managed to graduate summa cum laude, for which the faculty offered him a scholarship and a place in the PhD program. Furthermore, the liceum, where he was doing his teaching apprenticeship offered him a position of polish language and literature teacher. The new chapter of his life could begin. He already had a place to live in Warsaw as he was living for two years now in a rented flat with his roommate Priscilla, who he had met through music classes.
For summer, he just wanted to go home and chase the inspiration. Being from Zakopane, a picturesque small town located in the south of Poland, famous for the Tatra mountains, surrounding the town, could serve as the much-needed inspiration boost. Mountains always were a perfect place for a poet in dire need of inspiration. Offering to challenge his inner aspiration of a romanticist poet and for reason, Jaskier was always a romantic in the heart.
He planned to spend summer writing and composing songs, for which he hadn’t had much time during school. And brush off those rusty piano skills. Oh, he hasn’t played the piano in ages. And the most he was looking forward to spending time with his grandmother, who is so close with. Tending the garden with her, marvelling at the blooming flowers, sitting together on the porch and reading books, singing and laughing together. She would call him Jaskierek and always welcome him with a full plate of freshly baked plum pie. Jaskier always knew who was the favourite grandson of her.
Sadly, reality does not always look as one imagines it. An obstacle, which stood in the way of almost perfect summer plans were the overbearing parents. Most of the time spent at the home, which he referred now as his parents' house, went not well. Endless jabbings about his personal life, studies and even love life usually ending in argument or his father just throwing some official paperwork at him, saying “Make yourself useful Julian, proofread and edit these for us,” thus ending the conversation.
“Right. Useful, ” mumbled Julian-Jaskier.
Useful, unlike his older cousin Ferrant, who lives in Kraków and had studied law at the prestigious Jagiellonian University. Now he’s one of the most excellent lawyers in Kraków, planning to make a great career in politics. What a selfish prick. Even worse than his obnoxious classmate Valdo, and that speaks for itself.
Meanwhile, Jaskier is now just a polish language teacher. To say his family agreed with his studies would be an overstatement. It was always expected more of him than to go and study liberal arts as his whole family is politics-oriented. Father being a lawyer and currently the mayor of Zakopane for over 20 years. Mother being mayor’s right hand at the position of vice-mayor. Even his only relatives, uncle from father’s side and cousin, had a career in politics. Simply said, it was expected of him to join the family business. The only benefit the so-called family business had from his studies was his ability to perform grammatical and stylistic arrangements on the official paperwork.
As soon as his father found out that him being a linguist is, sort of, useful in the political field he didn't consider Jaskier’s chosen career as that much worthless. He even considered marrying him off when he graduates to Anna Henrietta, the daughter of his friend from university, who now works in a high position in the district court in Nowy Targ.
“You don’t know when having ties with the court specialized lawyers could be useful” , his father used to say. Also, Annarietta herself had recently shown interest in politics. Perfect for his father and family business, but Jaskier refused to partake in this kind of alliance. Which didn’t go too well for mending cracks in their already not stable family relationships.
Running away as far as possible from his politically oriented overbearing family to university was his new chance at life. Free from expectations thrown at him, no more of just Julian the mayor’s son. As mayor’s son, his future looked bright. He was aware of what privilege being Pankratz would bring. How his life could be so easy. All those ties, money, a place in the town council and the power coming from it. In spite of living his own life, Jaskier swept all these opportunities and privileges like cards from the table and went into the world pursuing what was his heart after.
Jaskier refused to take a part in this, he would never become a lawyer or someone like that and marry someone in order to form ties. That wasn’t him and living this life would destroy him.
But not all of his family was like that. His grandma was the best person. She would always go on how he resembled his late grandfather, Alfred, likewise looks and mind. And who was also a musician back in days. How his grandfather upon meeting him would be so proud as he’s carrying his name and legacy.
Jaskier didn’t know what was his place in this town. To the town’s people known only as Julian the mayor’s son. Around him politicians and lawyers everywhere, even in the family circle. Mother, father, uncle, cousin. Jaskier saw them as vultures. Dressed in fancy black. Sucking life from already lifeless people. Always hungry for power.
However much the cons would try to outweigh the pros, for Jaskier they’re always going to be two things, which are worth coming back to. The first thing being his grandma, who means the world to him. The second thing being nature, because where else could Jaskier just snag his lute and go running to the town outskirts where he would sit in the flower-covered meadow while strumming the lute as mountains are towering above him.
This is Jaskier’s home. And he wouldn’t ruin it with individuals who all keep saying “Mayor’s son. Got it easy.”
Mayor’s son.
Got it easy.
Sure.
As soon as he came back home for the summer after graduating from university, his father immediately enrolled him in work. Jaskier was now spending days in his father’s office working as a stylistic advisor for the town council. A perfect way to enjoy a well-deserved summer break, right?
As weeks went by and summer was slowly reaching its end, Jaskier finished his last ‘work’ day and thus he was free from this work to enjoy what was left of summer. He only had left the last stack of papers, very important ones, to proofread and edit. This he could do from the comfort of his old childhood room or he could come to sit in grandma's house and work from there, fortunately, he didn’t have to sit anymore in that office surrounded by people in suits and feeling out of place with his colourful shirts. He would enjoy the free evening now, he would worry about the papers laters.
Blowing up dust, which gathered upon the old piano located in his room, he sat down, put fingers on tiles and started to play. The notes were flying through the room as his fingers danced on the piano tiles accompanied by a tune hummed in harmony matching the piano.
Jaskier wasn’t a professional musician per see, despite having some sort of musical education. Ever since childhood he was drawn to music, playing the piano, guitar and even the freaking lute and on top of it, he also was a brilliant singer. Even though music is his biggest passion so is literature, especially poetry, which won him over.
He was disturbed from this self-created idyll by the sound of his phone ringing. Jaskier groaned and grabbed the phone from the table, thinking his father urgently needs his services in linguistics, again, “Yes?”
The voice, which spoke up wasn’t his father’s, “Hi, Jaskier,” it was Priscilla, his dear friend and roommate in Warsaw, “How are you? I know you wanted to spend summer off work, but it seems I have a kind of emergency…”
“I hope not the linguistics kind of emergency. Frankly, I’ve had enough of them, these days I feel like I’m a linguist on call,” he laughed.
“Remember telling you about the renaissance fair we are organizing this summer,” Jaskier hummed in an agreement, “It’s this Sunday and our historian who had to give out a lecture on literature had called in sick and we’re in dire need in replacement.”
“Ahh,” Jaskier knew when this was going, “So it’s literature related kind of emergency, I’m in!”
“You sure?” Priscilla made sure, “It’s such short notice and you may have had plans. It’s okay if you decline the offer.”
“Are you kidding?” Jaskier exclaimed, talk about the impulsivity, “Far better than spending my weekend with the stack of documents waiting for editing.”
“Thank you Jaskier, really,” Priscilla smiled behind the phone, “Oh, I nearly forgot, bring your lute it’s crucial!”
“This better gotta be fun,” Jaskier lightened up, then groaned upon realization, “Uhh, I have to spend the whole tomorrow in trains travelling.”
“Wouldn’t it be better if you got a driving licence?” Priscilla asked.
“With my attention span?”
“Fair enough. For everyone’s else safety.”
“Wait for me tomorrow, sunshine,” Jaskier winked although Priscilla couldn’t see it.
“If you forget the lute, I will personally send you back to retrieve it, Dandelion,” she laughed as she ended the call with the nickname she made up to playfully mock him.
Instead of a calm evening filled with piano playing Jaskier’s evening got chaotic as he had to quickly pack up things for his unplanned impulsive trip tomorrow, explaining to his parents he has to go to Warsaw for two days for a ‘work opportunity’ and promising to finish editing the given documents on the train ride there.
The next day it awaited him an over 400 kilometres train ride from Zakopane to Warsaw, one train switch and in total around 8 hours of travelling, plenty of time for the editing and mindlessly staring at the scenery passing by. Plus it could always increase with train delays, which is a regular rule.
Luckily Jaskier’s train had only a 5-minute delay and Priscilla was waiting for him at the train station. On their way back to their shared flat they stopped at fast food to pick up some late dinner. They ate with the TV playing in the background and then Jaskier, worn from his travels and editing documents on the way, went straight to bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
In the morning they had to wake up early and head to the outskirts of Warsaw, where the fair was taking the place. On the spot, they changed into costumes, both were going as bards. Priscilla changed into a red shirt with blue west on it and matching breeches, stockings, one turquoise and one orange and red hat with a huge orange feather on it. Jaskier changed into a blue doublet and matching trousers with red embroidery, he also put on a black hat with black and white feathers on it, but Priscilla and her colleagues took it off, after having a good laugh, because he looked ridiculous in it.
Priscilla Callonetta is one year older than Jaskier, graduated last year with a magister's degree in liberal arts specializing in music and theatre. Right now she’s working in a music shop as a helping hand in handling historical musical instruments and offering advice and guidance. She’s also one of the founding members of Warsaw's historic and folk music organization. Priscilla is interested in keeping historical music alive and implementing it to festivals, fairs, theatres and so on. Often organizing meetings for the same historical instruments enthusiasts as her to form a one-way band and play. That’s how she and Jaskier had met, even though their first meeting was through History of music in the renaissance period class, which Jaskier took as an elective course. She and he were the only lutists in the group, their mutual initial thought being, who the hell plays the goddamned lute in the freaking 21st century?! resulting in bonding over their shared love for the old instrument.
In the staff meeting before the fair, Jaskier was told that his part in the fair consisted of holding a short and brief lecture about medieval literature and talking about the bardic profession in detail, playing the lute and posing for the photos.
The historian, who was supposed to perform this lecture originally, unfortunately, got ill. Priscilla, as one of the organizers, recommended Jaskier as a last-minute replacement. Not a historian, but could play the lute and had a degree in literature and was obsessively passionate about this topic as he was taking elective classes in anything, which has to do with the bardic profession.
This Jaskier’s obsession with the bardic profession began since he bought his, now repaired lute, in a flea market in Nowy Targ. At first glance he thought the instrument looked cool, something like a vintage guitar, holding a belief that playing the lute would be as easy as playing the guitar.
It wasn't as easy as playing the guitar.
There was nobody in town, who could give him lute lessons, he was on his own, only helping with tutorials on the internet. It was hard work and it took a lot of time until he figured out how to grasp the lute and then he slowly started to fall in love with the instrument. There began his interest in its history, who played the lute, when and for what occasion, then he found about bards, travelling storytellers accompanied by music. It seemed like Jaskier had predispositions for this profession.
Ever since childhood, he had shown a great talent regarding his voice. Excelling in recitation competitions, ever since kindergarten. Once in primary school, he ended up in second place in the big competition, which took place in Kraków. Upon his parent’s insistence, he started taking voice technique classes in a local primary school for art education, where he also started to practice singing. His teachers kept playing various tones on a piano to better train their ears for rhythm and Jaskier, who was a naturally curious child, started demanding piano lessons as well.
His parents were happy for him, supporting his every decision. In return, Jaskier was performing on many folk feasts or other celebrations organized by the town. The mayor’s talented son was always the star of every program. Always the solo singer or the lead pianist in their little school band, if you could call it like that.
The sweet life of his parents being proud of him vanished when he started his education in liceum. No longer it was expected of him being the cute little singer and pianist, instead of it, it was expected of him to study well and not to fiddle with music.
It wasn’t enough for Jaskier, as he kept itching for more. He needed music, it was the only fixed point in his life.
On his fifteenth birthday, his grandma gifted him a guitar. An old guitar, a little bit scuffed at the corners, which once belonged to his late grandfather Alfred, as noted by the engraved initials A. P. on guitar’s corpus. To Jaskier, it was like owning some valuable treasure. He started learning to play on it by the ear, even fell so much in love with the guitar that he, back then, abandoned the piano for good and shifted his whole musical expression into the guitar. It was easier to play and also it was portable, which was the biggest benefit.
Jaskier didn’t put much value into his studies. Instead, he did revel in making up silly rhymes, which he then was adapting as songs for guitar.
His first poem ever written was for a girl from the class above, who he fancied. Although she rejected him, he still kept writing new poems in order to win her heart. It wasn’t successful, but in the end, he found a passion for writing poems. And he was good at it. Ever since he had acquired a lute, he started writing songs specifically for the lute adaptations. Even went so far as to have chosen the name Jaskier as his bardic pseudonym. It was a silly childhood nickname, given by his grandma according to who he was always as bright as buttercup and it stuck with him.
Some kids went punk, Julian went medieval.
In conclusion, Jaskier was the best last-minute replacement for the historian, which they could ever get a hold of. Maybe Jaskier couldn’t explain historical and sociological facts in such depth, but he had passion, knew how to write and perform songs in medieval style and sometimes his character gave out the feeling that Jaskier really had been in previous life indeed a bard.
Jaskier’s lecture went very well, visitors listened to him with interest and even participated in the discussion by asking questions, little children and even adults adored his skill in playing such a historical instrument. After a small concert and taking photos with some of them, he was able to freely enjoy the fair. Firstly he had lunch in one of the many food stalls.
Meanwhile on the main stage amateur actors were preparing for a play, which Priscilla was directing. Jaskier got curious so after lunch, he ended up watching a reenactment of a folktale about the knight, who villagers hired to kill a devil who is stealing grain from villagers with a twist. It turned out the knight after being beaten up by the group of other villagers had deserted and fled. No devil was stealing the grain, it was people. The point of the play was pointing out every fairytale has a grain of reality in it, people just tend to focus on fantastical elements. Or something along those words.
Continuing his free time roaming around the fair he had watched a group of three men dressed as knights performing unconventional sword fights, it looked like a terrifying battle but at the same time, it looked like a graceful dance with the sword. Then he wandered around the market with folk crafts, chatted with sellers and complimented the crafts, had the most pleasant interaction with the boy performing woodcarving. He was often stopped by visitors who wanted to take a picture with him, Jaskier, aware he was drawing attention with lute carrying on his back and dressed as a bard, happily obliged even chatted with them and offered to play simple harmonies on the lute.
As the evening and the closing hour was drawing nearer, Jaskier settled in the area, which was converted to the medieval tavern with a makeshift bar area and panels, which were wrapped in cobblestone wallpaper and decorated with tapestries. The atmosphere being jolly as last visitors were staying and enjoying the ale, some of them playing cards, others just sitting and soaking up the medieval atmosphere.
By now Jaskier was basically free from any work, but still was running around the tavern playing the lute and making up silly rhymes about dragons and witches on the go. Giving the tavern a boost in the atmosphere. At the end of his performance, he was given applause and shouts from the gathered audience.
From everyone except one.
Grabbing a glass of fresh ale from the bar counter Jaskier approached the stranger “Hey, you brooding alone in the corner, what’s your opinion?” he exclaimed.
The stranger didn’t reply, just kept staring at him, disinterestedly.
“Oh, come on,” Jaskier sat opposite of him, “You certainly have some words for me. Three words or less.”
“Not historically accurate,” the stranger said in a deep voice.
“Whoa. Okay. I mean…” this is something he wasn’t expecting at all, “Yes well you see it’s not historically accurate because it is a story and stories are not...real?”
“There’s a grain of truth in every fairytale, folktale and legend, people just tend to focus on the fantastical elements. Blinding eyes to the truth. Seeking comfort from fairytales and magic.”
This stranger was familiar. The words he spoke were familiar.
“They blame their problems on curses, fates, destinies, magical creatures so they can be good. It’s a fine line between good and bad.”
Jaskier laughed, ”That’s exactly the reason why people invent stories! Reality is often harsh, why couldn’t they have something to comfort them? Especially in medieval times, speaking of it and uhh-” then it clicked, “I know who you are. You wrote that play? You know which one, do you? The one about the devil and villagers, which turned out there was no devil at all. You’re not fun, I was waiting for the devil to show up!”
The stranger said nothing. Maybe silence meant Jaskier was right or he was talking too much the stranger didn’t have a word in this conversation.
“And also you seem to be one of the knights from the sword tournament, am I right? Judging by your white hair, one could not have overlooked you.”
“A vedmak.”
“A vedmak? What?” Jaskier was nervously scratching his head, “E-excuse me, I don’t know this … character?”
“Male version of a witch.”
“O-okay,” Jaskier was quiet for a while, “Wouldn’t you be then called the mage, sorcerer or something like that? And right now as I’m looking at you dressed in armour with two swords, scary-looking swords I might add, you don’t strike me as someone who would use magic. You look like a knight, without a helmet,” Jaskier kept explaining while making gestures with his hands.
The white-haired stranger groaned in a tone, which meant for Jaskier that he talked too much and crossed another border with someone.
“I see. I said more than I wanted. Thank you for the talk” he stood up and was going away from the makeshift tavern, “It was umm... good. I’ll be on my way, then. Goodbye?”
“Wait,” the not-knight called after him and Jaskier stopped, “There’s more.”
“Well then,” Jaskier sat back down opposite the white-haired stranger and smiled, “It looks like I’m all yours.”
“In Slavic mythology, there’s this vedmak, who is a mutant who uses magic abilities and super endurance whom people back in the day would hire to kill monsters for money,” the white-haired not-knight explained, “It’s not your fault for not knowing. It’s not a much-researched mythology aspect, as the limited remaining information is written in old polish.”
Jaskier was deep in thoughts.
“Thank you for listening. Not many people are interested in this kind of topic,” the vedmak-man said sincerely.
Jaskier smiled “No problem. I love hearing stories. Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten,” he extended his hand “I’m Jaskier.”
“Geralt. Geralt Rivia,” the stranger, Geralt, took it.
“Well, Geralt. To popularize this character you need the right name. Nothing wrong with vedmak, just you know, if you want to get the attention you need something modern sounding,” Jaskier was thinking for a while, “You said the male version of a witch, so how about a witcher?”
Geralt grunted.
“Then it’s all settled. The witcher is it!”
“You won’t popularise it, people are not interested in that kind of character,” Geralt shot back.
“At least allow me to try.”
“So...you need a medieval-sounding name. Geralt of Rivia, yeah that works...” it was getting late, more ale was consumed and Jaskier was scribbling in his notebook, “What rhymes with Rivia… Olivia? Uhh, this is impossible,” said Jaskier facepalming into the table, “You need a pseudonym. You know how knights, and yes I know you’re not a knight, but you need a title. You know Richard the Lionheart. What would you be? You have a wolf on your medallion, I see so let’s work with Geralt the Wolf,” he scratched it out, “Ehh, I don’t like the sound of it. Too lengthy and wordy. Not catchy. Don’t look at me like that Geralt, I know my ways around words, just give me a moment.”
“Leave it be, bard. I told you, you won’t make a good story out of it.”
“Hmm wolf, wolf … but what wolf? The brave wolf, the scary wolf, the black wolf, the white wolf… oh wait, the white wolf,” he was muttering to himself, then “Geralt I’ve got it!” Jaskier exclaimed and nearly spilt his ale.
“The White Wolf! You know based on your white hair and wolf medallion,” he explained.
“A coin for your thoughts, bard,” said Geralt as he took a sip of his ale.
Jaskier strumming the lute said, “Well, not a bad idea, actually.”
“Suit yourself.”
Several minutes passed and Jaskier took the lute and had taken a place in the centre of a makeshift tavern, “Are you ready for one more ballad from your local bard? I know you are, so listen,” he explained and the remaining visitors, surprisingly, got quiet.
Jaskier played the melody, on which he was working for some time. Talking with Geralt gave him the right inspiration boost and he could finally attach the right words to the music. Using the plot of the play he had watched earlier as an inspiration and adapting it to the actual folktale.
He sang about being on a path with a witcher, Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, abducted by the devil and elves, how the witcher fought them all, prevailed and how the people were celebrating the hero’s deed.
Jaskier felt there was something more a lot deeper about this vedmak Geralt was telling him about. Misunderstood, not being written about thus ending in not translating the remaining information and being forgotten. Nearly forgotten. Jaskier was determined to make a change, if storytellers in the past didn’t make a mark on history, Jaskier will die trying to. Adding up folktale elements such as replacing the other villagers in the story with the elves, setting up the scenery, the edge of the world is near the mountains, thanks Priscilla to that allegory about his hometown, and overall making sure to describe this misunderstood poorly treated vedmak, now witcher, as a friend of humanity.
During the chorus, people started to throw coins at him as a joke. Well, the ale consumed spoke for itself and the audience wasn’t much sober to start.
Eventually, people started to sing along with him. Chorus was annoyingly catchy and easy to remember. Jaskier was having the time of his life. Dancing around while singing and playing and occasionally winking at Geralt sitting in the corner. Feeling like the real bard.
As soon as he finished and was awarded with the thundering applause and whistling from the patrons, Priscilla came bursting in, “We’re closing the fair, could you please leave- wait what’s happening here, we didn’t have any concerts? Jaskier?”
She found him talking to a white-haired stranger.
“That’s not how it should be,” the white-haired stranger grumbled, but Jaskier was smiling, “Where're your newfound respect?”
“Respect doesn’t write history, “ Jaskier replied in a serious tone, “Storytellers do.”
Jaskier picked up all coins and put them on the table in front of Geralt, “Keep the coin,” Jaskier winked as Priscilla was dragging him by arm away, “This means dinner’s on you next time,” Jaskier managed to call after him, even though his words were starting to slur and he was slipping into his goral accent.
Little did he know one visitor managed to record his performance and put it online.
Little did he know his quickly put together song about witcher was getting popular quite swiftly.