“Have to be careful. There’s a lot of bandits on this road.” Geralt cautioned the bard, a truly unacceptable amount of years into their companionship.
“What?” Jaskier stopped strumming to confusedly stare at him. “No there’s not.”
“Yes.” Geralt returned the look. “There is.”
Every time he’d walked this road he’d run into at least one set of unlucky or foolhardy men looking to rid him of his valuables and life. He’d have avoided it for the bards sake but Jaskier had a festival and after several contract based delays they had no choice but to take the route or miss it entirely.
“I use this road all the time Geralt and I have never once met a bandit on it.”
“Then you’ve been incredibly lucky.”
The seemed to be true of the bard in general. He carried no weapon, no flint for a fire, barely any food at all in his case. Yet he remained hale and healthy, even during their travels apart.
“We’ll see about that.” He snorted, like he thought Geralt was the one being ridiculous.
It was near to sundown when he heard them aproach. Pulled out his sword and readied himself for the fight.
Jaskier stupidly strummed on ahead, singing to the trees. If bolts started flying he could aard him down at least. Hopefully they’d recognize what little a threat he posed.
The one on horseback stepped onto the road ahead of Jaskier.
Fuck. Kidnapping the helpless one. Good play. Aard would still spook the horse, knocking the man off before he could get away with the bard.
“Jaskier!” The obvious bandit bellowed. Jumping off his horse and embracing the man.
The bard laughed and returned the embrace. “ Jakub! How are you!”
“Better now for hearing you! Come come! Our camp isn’t far and I know you’ve not the supplies for a night alone!”
“Tonight I’m not alone but my friend and I would love for your company!”
It was only then that the bandit even seemed to register his presence. His grip on Jaskier’s shoulder tightened and his face paled.
He listened to the three other heartbeats hidden in the shrubbery still. Rapid. Fearful.
He eased his sword back into its sheath and raised a hand soothingly. “Don’t want trouble.”
“Right.” The pallid man nodded. “Won’t find any here Witcher.”
And they didn’t. Not on the way or tucked inside the bandit camp or around their fire as they ate stolen food. Jaskier playing and dancing and making merry long into the dark of the evening. Eventually tiredly flopping down next to him and in a few short minutes falling asleep against his thigh.
Jakub watched him, eased by the drinking and calm of the night from his deathly white shade. He looked as warmly at the bard as the rest of his men did. As warmly as they were wary of him.
“You’ve met him before.” He said simply.
Jakub grimaced at him but nodded.
His grimace deepened into a scowl. “Could have.”
“He’s penniless half the time.” Technically more than half but-
“And rich the other half.”
Jakub considered him and took a long drink of his stolen ale. Eyes drifting down to Jaskier, sound asleep. Curled around his lute and pressed into his side.
“Could have robbed him. Robbed him blind.” He nodded. “But imagine the cost.”
He frowned as Jakub stood, tossing them a blanket. “Got an open bed in that tent. Feel free.” He staggered into his own tent, humming one of Jaskier’s songs all the way.
He cocked his head before picking the bard up and carrying him to the tent. Setting him down in the bed before shoving him over enough to get in himself.
The bard rolled over into his chest and drooled onto Geralt’s arm.
He could hurt the bard. Easily. But he didn’t particularly want to imagine the cost.
