abraxaslogs | WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

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WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

Welcome to The Free Cities! The portal exits outside the capital city of Cadens. The first impression of the city is its sheer size. It sprawls out across the landscape like a great hulking beast at rest. The wall that encircles it barely contains it, the buildings of Cadens practically bulging against its restraint.

The air here seems thicker somehow, tinged with a scent that’s acrid and smoky. Smog hangs high over the city, belched out by smokestacks that tower over the industrial district. The desert stretches out behind it, dotted with towers and dust clouds that disappear into the horizon. Multiple gates lead inside and each is staffed by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms that wave a steady stream of people through without appearing to pay much attention. People are coming and going almost all of the time, to and from the outposts and areas of activity around the city proper. It’s difficult to tell just what’s out there beyond the impression of tall metal structures and a great deal of labor. Wagons carrying travelers to Libertas and Aquila roll out from the Travel Post outside the city wall.

Anyone who can sense magic will notice a much lower concentration here. No one will be stopped or questioned at the gate, even if the soldiers seem to take note of the fugitives from Thorne.

The activity and sheer number of citizens can be overwhelming. It’s crowded and loud and feels constantly in motion with everyone talking and yelling over each other. It’s easy to get swept up in the ever-moving throng or find oneself ducking into the mouth of a narrow alley just to breathe.

Anyone who’s willing to make their way to the northern part of the city and Portham Hall will find Prime Minister Marlo Reiner available to receive them.

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[A life of privilege and passion. Hector understands at least part of Jaskier's drive. While music has never spoken to him the way it obviously does the bard, Hector gets rejecting money and power to follow a life devoted to a craft.]

A university graduate, eh? [That's the most surprising part for Hector. Education was so rare in his world. Hector considered himself fortunate to be learned, but college was never an option for him. He's still adjusting to the fact that the people he knows now had a completely different upbringing.]

And look at you now. No more condiments, only coins and praise being thrown at you. [Maybe he really should let Jaskier take care of him.

He shrugs as the conversations shifts back to him.]

I wanted a dog. My father was an alchemist-- they are notorious for being obsessed with money and power-- and he trained me from a young age. He wanted me to focus on my studies, and all I wanted was a dog to play with. [He tends not to talk about his family, but here he is, sharing. He wants Jaskier to understand him.]

I thought he couldn't object if I was able to make a pet that cost nothing, needed no feeding. I was seven or eight at the time, and hopelessly naive. So I found a dead dog that had been struck by a cart and brought it back to life. It should have been far beyond my abilities, but I had a natural talent, I discovered.

A college boy, if you will. [He teases, pushing Hector's drink in front of him. I's rare in his world as well, honestly; it's mostly the children of nobles, or those who can haggle their way in. One could hardly be a good bard without the knowledge provided there, though.

He misses those days. Sometimes. And now where will he go when winter comes here? He would always return to Oxenfurt or Toussaint. And now... well, perhaps winter did not even come here to Cadens.

Dare a spot of flattered blood come to his cheeks? Maybe for a second.] Oh, stop. You're far too kind.

[But also keep going.

Though he's more than happy to hear about Hector's life. He has such a smooth, even voice, even when speaking of the most mundane. Though it is not to say what Hector tells him is mundane in anyway. He watches his face as he speaks, his brows only moving higher to react in surprise. An alchemist? That was certainly not fairly common.

Ah. But fathers obsessed with money and power? Dreadfully common, unfortunately.

Jaskier lifts his head from his hand. He doesn't need to say much about his father's reaction. It's not terribly hard to guess, and yet he can't help but think: of all people, shouldn't an alchemist be a bit more fucking understanding, especially with a child? With some of the things out there, a dead dog was a minor inconvenience.]

Sounds like a right bastard to me, if his immediate response wasn't to laud your talents. [Of course he's defensive on Hector's behalf. Not only because he likes him, but it simply -- it reminds him of the shit he's heard people say about Witchers, too. Spending their lives helping people only to get ruined by busy mouths.] It's not like every child out there is doing the impossible. By gods, you should've been a prodigy.

[In his estimates. The amount of nobles who would've paid out the ass to see their dead exotic birds again. Or peasants who needed oxen that wouldn't slow. So many creative endeavors out in the world, unfairly snuffed out like candles because they couldn't be understood.]

[Hector takes his drink, letting his fingers brush against Jaskier's as he takes it. Flirting is more fun than talking about his past, but these things must be said. The fact that Jaskier is so immediately and decisively on Hector's side helps.]

No, no lauding. Far from it. I eventually found people who appreciated my talents. They just... all turned out to be vampires.

[But yes, there are so many non-terrible ways he could apply his powers, if only he was given the chance. He feels like the bard understands that, and that makes Hector melt even more than Jaskier's smiles and clever fingers and lovely voice do.]

Speaking of prodigies... [He loops his foot around Jaskier's ankle, keeping him from scooting his chair away from Hector's.] What is your favorite song?

[He pauses. Oh. Vampires. As in, several of them. That was -- how many vampires could one man really know? And how in the gods's names had Hector moved around them and never gotten snacked on? That feels like the sort of inevitable end of that sort of... position.]

Well. Now you have very human fans. At least one.

[One that had no reservations to all but cuddling up against him, if that's what Hector wants. What's a bit of sad backstory between lovers? You know, if you ask him, it makes the necromancer even sexier. All that tragedy and he still can flush with the right compliment.

He leans in close to him, letting a hand fall onto Hector's thigh.] Ah, my favorite? You mean of my own? [Because of course his favorite song was one of his own, thank you. He's just that good. He makes a long hmm as he considers.

What is it, really? He thinks, of all of them, that his first real hit may be a favorite -- he certainly owes a great deal of his fame to it. But there is one thing that's bothered him.]

You know, it's a funny thing. I wrote a song before... before I was brought here. I never had a chance to perform it before this mess. Yet I think it may be my favorite, even if it's a bit maudlin. Her Sweet Kiss.

[Maudlin is putting it a bit lightly. His fingernails drag up Hector's thigh as he recites with a gentle, breathy tune, low enough that it's only for the two of them:]

I’m weak my love, and I am wanting /
If this is the path I must trudge /
I welcome my sentence /
Give to you my penance /
Garrotter, jury and judge...

[Those last lines had taken at least a day and a half, and he is very proud of it. Not bad for a quick rewrite after certain... hm. Events.

He smiles.] I should make you come listen when I finally perform it.

[Hector didn't specifically mean songs Jaskier had penned, but Jaskier's boundless confidence is sexy, and he nods along.]

Yes, I'm curious to know what the master bard likes the best.

[He leans into Jaskier's side, enjoying the feel of Jaskier's fingers against his thigh, and listens to the whispered lyrics.

...and, um, is Jaskier ok? Don't get Hector wrong, the phrasing is clever, the tune haunting. From the sampling he hears, it is indeed a good song. But...]

And this was from right before you arrived?

[Who hurt you, Jaskier?]

[He's fine!! Mostly. But he's rather certain he knows that look. Not that it's Hector's fault; plenty of his audience have wanted to know how much of his songs are pieces of him.]

I finished it the night before I was fished out of that bloody well in Thorne. Right at the base of the mountain I'd been venturing down.

[The dragon mountain, that was. After he got no dragon in the end. He was not still mad about it. Definitely not.]

Oh, don't look so worried! [Though it is cute, his eyebrows coming together like that.] I can guess what you're thinking, but it's not about me. [But is it about Yennefer? Sort of, but no one needs to know that. He's had plenty of experience with love to know she's not the only one the song makes him think of.] Though I certainly take inspiration from my life. And that isn't to say I haven't had my heart broken... [He gives a wistful sort of sigh. He hasn't thought of the Countess in a while, what with everything happening. But her picture in a frame in Sam's house, in his domain, simply proves how he carries her still in his heart somewhere.

Well. She's in the past, and now he's here, with a drink and very good company.]

A bit maudlin for this moment though, isn't it? I believe that means I get a question. [He considers it. He's rather sure Hector would answer plenty, but he is particularly curious about one thing:] When you were around all those vampires... did you ever consider becoming one?

[To his credit, it might not work like that in Hector's plane. Which would be rather fascinating.]

[Jaskier reassures him, but the worry doesn't entirely leave Hector's face. He's too inexperienced with relationships to know how long a heartbreak takes to mend. So he finds Jaskier's hand and gives it a quick squeeze for lack of any better way to comfort him.]

Yes, that was the deal.

[He shrugs and withdraws his hand.]

In terms of assessing the threat of associating with them, I had to consider it, but in the way you mean, no. There was no guarantee that I would still be able to forge if I transformed, so it was never worth the risk. And while an extended lifespan would afford me more time to study, I've never sought true immortality. You can't work with death the way a necromancer does and not understand that it is the natural ending.

[After spending some time with vampires, he understood better than ever that life wasn't meant to last forever, and staying alive that long came at too high a cost.]

Besides, I enjoy the sunlight too much. You don't truly appreciate the light and warmth of it until you've spent a few months on a vampire's schedule.

[All right, so he's still a bit worried, yet Jaskier can't say he doesn't enjoy being fawned over a bit. A squeeze of his hand is sometimes as good as a kiss. (Though now he's quite sure Hector was not into it, which is... not ideal. He was supposed to be impressing him!

Well. Time enough for that later.)

He sips at his ale as he listens, realizing that it's almost the answer he expects, and yet not one he feels most people would admit. Losing that sort of power would be rather awful, he imagines, when it's so ingrained in oneself. (Already, he's imagined losing his own magic -- what little it is -- and it's unsettling.)]

That's both lovely and morbid. Which fits you wonderfully. [Oh, the sunlight! That's a good point. Yet Alucard was not bothered by it... then it must be a benefit of being a dhampir, as he said. So there is a difference.] I will have to make sure our next dates are in the glory of the sunlight. Though Cadens does have a rather lovely sunset.

[It's funny to him, that they have this similarity. Geralt isn't immortal, of course, but he ages so slowly that, to a man like him, it is the same thing. And vampires can die still, apparently, if Alucard's father met his end.

Jaskier has not fed too much energy to the thought himself. Eternity is an unfathomable concept when it is so impossible to reach.]

You were with them for longer than a few months, I imagine?

[He can cheat and have two questions. Or perhaps he momentarily forgot, because honestly? Hector's life is as bizarre as it is fascinating.]

[Hector nods, to the offer of a sunset date and to Jaskier's question.]

I was with Dracula for a year, serving as one of his generals, then... a few months, involuntarily, with another vampire lord and her sisters.

[He hasn't talked about that with anyone. Alucard doesn't know where he ended up; he'd never asked, and Hector never volunteered that information. He shrugs, downplaying the fact that he was enslaved and magically bound.]

It wasn't my smartest decision, allying with them. Any of them.

[And now, time to deflect.]

How did you get in with Geralt? He doesn't seem like a patron of the arts.

[He blinks in surprise.] A general? That's... that sounds quite important.

[Not that he doesn't see how Hector could be very powerful, but -- does that not imply an army was involved, as well? Ah. It's not so strange, really. He's so used to himself and Geralt, apart from all the kingdoms and their interactions -- and their wars -- between each other.

Until Cintra, apparently.

More importantly: involuntarily? Jaskier takes his hand. It is not hard to see he does not wish to elaborate as Hector quickly moves on, but gods, that could mean a lot of things. A kidnapping? Ransom? If he was a general, either could apply.

Yet it is in the past. He's here now, and he's free.]

We all make mistakes. And we learn from them, whether we wish to or not. [He allows the deflection with a squeeze of his hand. It's an easy question to answer; a tale he's recited a thousand times. How, they always ask, does the Witcher end up like a bard like you?

Of course, it is not meant to be complimentary, but there is not a single thing stopping Jaskier form taking it that way.] Ah! A patron? Hardly. It's quite the story, if you don't mind me taking over. [Not that he gives Hector a moment to stop him.] Quite a few years ago, the Witcher had a, shall we say, less than savory reputation. I've known of him since I was quite young, so far-reaching was his [He rolls his hand through the air. The word comes to him, even if it feels less than generous,] infamy. And I happened to meet his acquaintance in a tiny little town on the edge of the world, where he was hired to hunt a devil. And I, wanting some inspiration, decided to follow him on his hunt.

[It may be clear to anyone who knows even a little of Geralt that the Witcher obviously did not want him there.] We met some rather unsavory elves there on the edge of the world, but Geralt ended up saving my life in a heroic bout of, ah. Words. He managed to convince the king of the elves that our lives were quite important in the grand scheme of things, and he freed us from our capture. It was such an exciting adventure, I simply had to write a ballad of it. And in Geralt, I found a natural muse, considering his predilection for getting into terrifying bouts with monsters.

[It was a niche in the performing world that only Jaskier could fill. And fill it he did.] Over time, through the efforts of yours truly, his deeds and reputation have become quite prolific, as well as my own. Until... you know. [There's a note of sourness to his tone.] Here. Where no one knows of us. So one must work from the ground up again.

[Hector listens, glad both to have attention shifted temporarily away from his dumb-ass past decisions and to be able to listen to Jaskier's story. The bard has a lovely voice and an engaging way of spinning his tales.

It's an amusing image to conjure up, a youthful Jaskier following around the taciturn Geralt like an imprinted duckling, quacking for adventure.]

So he saved your life and you saved his reputation.

[To the benefit of both, it seems.]

You still have your experience and expertise, so you're not starting entirely from the beginning.

[Jaskier laughs.] Yes, in a sense. Though that isn't why I saved his reputation. I knew he'd net good coin out the other end of it.

[Look, he did it a little to help Geralt, as a Witcher. But he wasn't entirely altruistic.

That was life. Especially in that part of his life, where he was still eating bread off the floor. Which Hector does not need to specifically know about. (He'd admit it. Maybe. To him.)

He reaches over and tucks a bit of Hector's hair behind an ear. Just as an excuse to touch him. It's a sweet thing to say -- and true, to boot.]

You have a point. A rather good one, even. But what of you? Will you also grow a name for yourself with your talents here?

[The laughter is infectious, and Hector can't hold back a rumbling chuckle at Jaskier's mercantile considerations. Good for him, making sure he gets paid.

Of course, then Jaskier brushes a hand in his hair and the touch feels electric. Hector suddenly wishes they weren't in a crowded tavern room, so there could be more than these fleeting, flirty touches.]

Me? [Oh, right, questions. He shakes his head.] No, I want to work, but no good comes of being well-known in my profession. If too many people know what I can do, it'll get back to someone power mad who wants to use my forging for their own gain.

[He sounds so surprised to be asked. Hector's talent is a great skill to him, especially if he had been a general for a time. The power he must really have. Jaskier's not really thought too hard about it, really; bringing life to the dead is power enough to him.]

Shall I sing the praises of your talents then, my dear? Build up a reputation for you? Only if you'd like.

[He wouldn't mind. But, the more he learned of Hector, the less that seemed like what he wanted. Perhaps the quiet really was better for him.

Was he being quite literal?] You're... you're really afraid someone may use you? [Jaskier frowns.] Could you not simply stop them?

[Sorry, Hector. He's not trying to be mean. He just has... very powerful friends. Not that they don't get used as well, but at least they're often paid for it.]

[Jaskier is so sincere, and Hector almost hates to disappoint him.]

No. Best not.

[It's no so simple as choosing not to be manipulated. He looks down, letting his hair veil his face.]

I'm better prepared now against the ones who would twist logic in their favor, but there are people out there would literally enslave with magic. Take a sweet nothing whispered to a lover and corrupt it into a binding contract of service. The worst people use magic in ways I can't anticipate, and I can't guard against attacks I can't foresee.

[He accepts that with a nod. A shame, but Hector is... not like Geralt. He won't do it despite his complaints, unlike the Witcher.

Perhaps this is truly his first glimpse into the extent of Hector's personal tragedies. Jaskier shifts, leaning back with the drink not occupying both of his hands, longing as they are the push back his hair again. He can't imagine it's easy to say this. That he knows anything of it, at least so much to speak on it -- he must have personal experience with it.

And perhaps his fear of that ring ties into it.]

I didn't consider it. The use of magic in subjugation. I -- I mean, so literally. [Is it no surprise he wonders if Hector expects the same from him? Or, at one time. Jaskier has certainly offered more than his share of sweet nothings.] And you cannot truly live in defense at all times.

[He isn't sure what he can offer. He certainly doesn't have the power to protect Hector from such fears.

He sits closer, quiet for a time.] Well. I can certainly be a second opinion on any dodgy verbal contracts you're offered. [He watches Hector, even if his face is mostly still veiled.] I think it says much of you that you've already offered trust in the face of these... fears. I could... I could look into protection spells, perhaps. I did a bit of light reading on the varieties of magic here. Beyond that, I'm afraid I'm not a very useful guardian, as things go. Though I can throw a mean lute when necessary. I've won my share of bar fights.

[And lost a few lutes, but that's neither here nor there. He simply wants to offer what he can. Whatever he can.]

No decent person would think to consider it. So much of what is 'good' or 'evil' is a matter of perspective, but stripping a person of their free will... that is wrong.

[He feels a chill thinking about it. Knowing that he won't be fooled in exactly the same way again, but that a wily foe might find another weakness to exploit to similar effect.

There might be safety in isolation, but that too is something Hector has had too much of. Being near Jaskier drives off the biting cold of fear and loneliness. Here he is, offering to be Hector's advocate, to try to learn magic in his defense. There have been a handful of strategic alliances in Hector's past, but never anyone so unquestioningly and unconditionally on Hector's side.

He looks up at the bard, lips parted and eyes shining, smitten.]

You don't... you don't need to. The magic, or the lute-throwing. You need that lute. I should probably take you up on auditing my contracts, actually, but... I'm better suited for the rest than you are. You've already done enough for me.

[Jaskier is inclined entirely to agree. It seems that, unlike most he meets, the planes they came from are alike in more ways than he'd expected. And certainly forcibly using magic to take away someone's will -- well, if he was the kind to believe, truly believe, in Destiny, wouldn't that be the antithesis against it?]

Well, of course I don't need to. But that's precisely what I'll do. [Besides, if there are people capable of it here, it's just as well he learns some sort of... defense.

Hah! A bard, learning magic. Learning to defend himself. It was rather quaint, wasn't it?

All right, the second point, he won't refute. He does need the lute. And does not have the coin yet to buy a proper, quality one.] You know, you make it sound like they're all favors. They aren't. [He smiles, and without ceremony he leans in and kisses Hector's cheek.] I can think of no greater honor than getting into a bar fight for you. I may lose, of course, but it's the principle of the thing. A man must fight for what he believes in.

[Jaskier kisses Hector's cheek, and it isn't sexual, or flirtatious. It's... loving, like the kiss is the full point, not the lead-up to other activities. It's not the first time the bard has done something like that, but Hector can't imagine ever getting used to it. It's not something he should ever take for granted.

He swallows, not even knowing how to convey what he feels in that moment. If Jaskier wanted an army, Hector would build him one. If Jaskier offered a ring, he'd take it. If Jaskier asked for the world, Hector would find a way to seize it for him. But Jaskier's affections aren't conditional upon any of that. He seems to enjoy Hector's presence, and offer up his affection for no other reason than that. It's terrifying. Hector absolutely isn't worthy of that.]

Then I will fight for you as well. Any man with the misfortune or the staggering misjudgment to harm you will regret it. [Regret it to their grave and beyond it.

He takes Jaskier's hand. He's had his fill of drink for now.] Have you found lodgings for the night?

[Jaskier's eyes light up. Not as if he has an idea for that sort of offering -- he certainly does not -- but it is extremely attractive of him to sound so fierce and dangerous.]

Hector, my dear, you are an absolute gem. I'll keep it in mind, but you needn't worry. I'm far more likely to hurt myself. Er. Not intentionally, I might add.

[After all, Jaskier is the most charming creature in Cadens, and does not suspect he'll be getting into any fistfights on the street. (Except over Hector's reputation, should it come to it.)

It was a quiet date, but a good one. He's come out the other side understanding a bit more of his necromancer company, which is all he could've wished for.

His hand curls gently in Hector's; their calloused hands are rough in different ways, but the hands of men who have worked long years.] I'd saved enough coin from Thorne to afford an inn room for my little company. [He lifts a curious brow, a bit hopeful there's an indication of invitation in the question.] And have you? Are you wishing for a bit additional company?

[Because they're here. Together again. And he's quite eager. This whole escape has been stress and a wreck on his nerves. Even a quiet night with company alongside him would be a balm.]

[Hector frowns over the mention of Jaskier hurting himself. Does he need to whip up some sort of bodyguard for his bard? His creatures are more inclined to attack than defense, but he could try.]

I've got a room for the night. Alucard will be with me after that, but he turn into a wolf and sleep on the floor. [So whenever Jaskier wants to pop by, Hector will toss the dhampir out, it's fine.]

If you're not needed with your companions, Constantine would love to see you.

[Yes, just the frog, and not Hector wanting to steal away Jaskier for himself.]

[It's only an expression! Sort of. Jaskier, luckily, is very good at getting out of trouble, mostly because he knows the precise moment he should get the fuck out of there instead of standing any sort of ground.

Jaskier pauses with a slight frown.]

I'm sorry, he sleeps on the floor? As a wolf? I -- I mean, I found out about the wolf thing, but why --

[He fumbles with the idea of it for a moment. Is that a vampire thing? A dhampir thing? Do they all do this? Gods, Alucard is utterly fucking bizarre.]

Nevermind. Yes, I would love to see Constantine. I'm sure he's the only one dying for my company. [Neither Geralt nor Ciri would miss him for a night, and. Well. Likewise. Hector's company is just as quiet. He drops a few coins on the table for their drinks, already getting set to pull his lute over his shoulder. (Eager, him? Never.)] Do show me.

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WELCOME TO THE FREE CITIES!

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maybe end it here if you're good? lmk!