[A rare, true compliment from Geralt. Jaskier beams. He may not know horses accessories, but he does know finery. And he thinks, renounced princess or not, Ciri deserves them. Fineries.]

Oh, don't ask me such a dangerous question. [Luckily Mog's in the bag against Jaskier's hip, because he's already lost enough arm real estate to gifts and treats for himself that he has no space to carry the gryphon, too.]

I think so. We had better move on! Now, you did promise me that this city has a fine coast, and that's what I wish to see. Seeing as your job is complete, you have no responsibilities but satisfying my curiousity.

[Jaskier gives a sort of half-wicked smile, very sure in himself that Geralt will acquiesce. As he always does.] And tell me of this medallion you commissioned. A wolf? What sort?