It's true that Geralt hasn't anything to contribute. Or specifically, he hasn't anything he wants to contribute. Not right now. He needs more time to reflect on what's been said. He assembled them not for answers but to bring them on the same page. Ensure nobody triggers a cascade of events unbeknownst to the rest.

That's been accomplished, he thinks. The remainder is...theory and speculation. Though, he agrees that the gods do not seem to act without the beckoning of men. Not as far as he knows. In every phenomenon involving the gods, there was a catalyst. An offering, an accidental disturbance. A deliberate invocation.

There is one more thing. One more thread.

"The kingdoms are not the only ones with an agenda. The other Summoned have their ambitions, too."

And they may be more difficult to predict. It would be remiss to pretend they all want the same thing simply because they've found themselves in a similar predicament and have been branded as one. Geralt's had more than one conversation that's left him uneasy.

Still. What needed to be said has been said. Since the bard has not seen fit to take human form, Geralt plucks him up like a wayward bread roll.

"You know how to reach me."