Again, sorry for forgetting to post the last chapter, that will not happen again.

Many thanks to GlassGirlCeci for betareading.

8

The opening door streamed light into the dingy little tavern. Summer strode in, taking in the dimly lit room, the tables set haphazardly throughout the space, the grizzled and rough-looking men and women at the tables. All of their eyes darted to her as she entered, but once it was clear she was doing nothing but going to the bar, most turned back to their conversations.

Most, not all. A man and a woman in blue robes and silver armor, respectively, kept their eyes on her as she passed their table by.

Huntsmen. They had to be, with that gear. Perfect.

"What d'ye want?" growled the bartender in a voice like crunching gravel as she leaned against the bar.

"What's good?"

"Nothin' 'ere."

"Fair." Her lips twitched. "Surprise me."

She took her drink—a strange, cloudy concoction that might have been anything from mead to whiskey—and tossed a few lien onto the bar before turning and joining the two Huntsmen at the table.

She sat down without a word, her eyes going from one to the other. Their narrowed eyes watched her warily.

"My name's Summer Rose," she said. "I'm looking for a couple people, and I'm hoping you can help me."

"It'll cost you," said the armored woman immediately. Her voice was scratchy in the best way—the kind of scratchy that made a voice resonant and throaty, rather than hoarse. "Nothing comes free—least of all information."

Summer nodded. "Of course," she said. "Mind if I tell you who I'm looking for before you give me a price?"

They looked at each other. "Sure," said the man, fingering the quarterstaff leaning against the table beside him. "Talk. No answers until you give us something, though."

"First one is a guy with grey hair, stubble, and a big sword. Wears grey with a red cape. Goes by the name of Qrow."

Their faces remained impassive. "And the other one?" asked the woman.

"Long black hair, wears red. Uses a katana. Red eyes, might wear a mask like a Grimm. Her name's Raven Branwen."

That got a reaction. The man's face paled and he leaned back slightly. The woman's eyes narrowed minutely. "And why," she asked slowly, "might you be looking for her?"

"That's my business," said Summer. "Unless you want that as your pay? Where is she?"

The woman pursed her lips. "Not telling you anything unless we know you're not here to make trouble."

"Make trouble for whom? Raven, Anima—or you?"

They glance at each other again. After a couple seconds of them saying nothing, Summer leaned forward.

"I just got here from Sanus," she said. "I need to talk to Raven. I'm not here to make trouble for you or anyone else. But, believe me, I'm perfectly happy to make trouble for a couple of clowns calling themselves Huntsmen."

Now the man gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing at her. "Who do you think you are, anyway? This isn't your turf—"

"I am Summer Rose," said Summer, channeling a bit of power to her eyes so that they flashed threateningly. "And Huntsmen don't have 'turf.' The more you talk, the better I'll feel about beating this information out of you."

The woman bared her teeth with a hiss. "You're treading dangerous ground here, Rose," she said coldly. "Do you have any idea who we are?"

"No—but you clearly don't know who I am either. I was Raven's teammate in school."

That startled them. "Raven went to school?" said the man blankly.

"Beacon Academy. Look it up." Summer looked between the two. "And, believe me, I wasn't any weaker than she was. Maybe I'm a bit out of practice. But maybe I'm not. Want to find out?"

They'd been speaking lowly, but their tones, if not their words, had carried. The tavern was mostly silent now, watching them.

The woman grimaced. "The Branwens operate in northeastern Anima," she growled. "Just follow the fucking smoke. That's all I've got."

Summer stood up. "Thanks for your help," she said, and raised her glass to her lips.

She'd been planning to down the drink in one go. That turned out not to be feasible. After one sip, she slowly lowered the drink, turned, and set it on the bar.

"You were right," she told the bartender.

"Eh?"

"Nothing here is good." With that, she turned and left the bar. She had some distance to cover.

"Last call, Yennefer, Regis," said Ciri, smiling sadly from where she sat perched on the low stone wall, her legs crossed before her. "Are you certain you want to stay?"

"Quite certain," Yennefer replied, slipping her arm under Geralt's. "But I expect you to visit, understood?"

"I will," Ciri promised. "And you, Regis?"

"I am decided," confirmed the vampire. "Our old world has no particular fascination for me. This one is every bit as interesting—and far less paranoid."

"And the rest of you?" Ciri asked, glancing over at the other group of assembled people. "None of you want to stay?"

There was a general, noncommittal shuffling. "Sorry, Geralt," said Dandelion at last, looking over at him. "You know I would…"

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Dandelion," Geralt reassured him. "You have a life back there. Just do me a favor and enjoy it."

Dandelion grinned. "Oh, you know I will!"

Triss smiled sadly from behind the bard. "We're all going to miss you. All of you."

Geralt felt Yennefer slump slightly against his side. "I know," she said, and there was something conciliatory in her voice. "I'm making strides in my research, so when I say, 'keep in touch,' I mean it. I'll contact you as soon as I get my megascope configured, Triss."

Triss' small smile expanded into a grin. "I'm looking forward to it," she said.

"All right, come on, everyone," said Ciri, clapping her hands. "We haven't got all day. Say your goodbyes, and let's be off!"

The two groups converged. Yennefer embraced Triss and Priscilla, and gave Dandelion and Zoltan each a kiss on the cheek. Regis gave the women and the dwarf each a warm nod and a soft "Goodbye," but when he reached Dandelion, the two of them clasped hands.

"It was good to see you again, old friend," Regis said.

"Same to you," said Dandelion, a wide grin on his face, his eyes sparkling. "I—oh, dammit all." And without another word, he surged forward and embraced Regis, holding him tightly. For a moment Regis' expression went blank, and then his face softened and he hugged the bard back. "Take care of yourself, old man," Dandelion said.

"I shall, if you do the same," Regis said. "You've still got a few years before you can claim a full half-century of poetry. Do try not to anger any particularly dangerous women in the meantime?"

"I've never been good at not angering women," Dandelion laughed.

"I'll keep him in line," Priscilla promised, putting a hand on Dandelion's arm.

For Geralt's part, he gave Zoltan a firm handshake. "It's been good to see you, old friend," he said.

"Same to you, Geralt," said Zoltan with a grin. "We may no' have seen each other all tha' often, but I'll still miss yer ugly mug stoppin' by every once in a while."

"And I'll miss the occasional reminders that my mug isn't that ugly, by comparison."

The dwarf laughed. "You take care of yerself, pal."

"Same to you, Zoltan."

Triss was next. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then she dove in for an embrace.

"I'm going to miss you terribly, Geralt," she said. Her voice shook, but only slightly.

"I'm going to miss you, too," he said. "Triss—even setting aside everything else, you've been a good friend. I won't forget that."

She laughed, and now her voice was a little more unsteady. "I don't think I'll ever forget you," she told him. "And it would be… nice to know that you think of me, once in a while."

"More than once in a while, I promise."

She squeezed him once more, and then she let him go, turning away so that he couldn't see her face.

Then he came to Priscilla, still lingering with Dandelion and Regis. "Take care of the idiot, would you?" he murmured in her ear.

She grinned at him. "Whether he likes it or not," she promised.

He grinned back and then turned to Dandelion, who had released Regis and was watching them. "What are you two talking about?" he asked suspiciously, his eyes darting from Priscilla to Geralt and back again.

"Nothing," said Priscilla, her eyes wide, batting her eyelashes. "Just saying goodbye."

Dandelion narrowed his eyes at her for a moment, then turned to Geralt. "Well. I suppose this is goodbye, isn't it?" His face broke into a sad smile. "We may well never see each other again, after this."

"We'll see. Stranger things have happened."

"I can't imagine much stranger than a world where there's no chance of you just… walking through the door, one day." Dandelion sighed. "Geralt, I don't know if I've ever told you this, but thank you. For everything. The past few years—decades, really… I'd never have seen half the things I have if it wasn't for you."

"Nor would I—because I'd be dead."

Dandelion grinned. "That you would! But so would I, probably." He held out a hand. "Take care of yourself, Geralt."

Geralt took the hand and pulled the man in for a brief embrace. "Same to you, Dandelion."

And that was it. They separated, Dandelion gave him one last smile and said, "I'll miss you, old friend." And then Ciri was in the middle of them.

"All right, that's enough of that, you'll make me sick if you carry on," she said. She quickly embraced all three of them. "I'll come back before too long," she promised. "I may not stay as long, but I'll be by every once in a while."

"I'll hold you to that," Geralt promised.

"Or what?" she asked, laughing. "You'll give me a good thrashing?"

"What—you think you're too old?"

She laughed at him again. "I'll see you soon, Geralt," she said, her green eyes glittering warmly, and then she turned to the others. "All right. Everyone hold on to me. As you all know by now, it can be a bit of a rough trip, so hold tight."

The group clumped around her. Geralt, Yennefer, and Regis stepped away.

Ciri met his eyes. She smiled. "Goodbye," she said, and then, in a flash of brightest green light, the whole group was gone, leaving only a thin greenish mist which quickly faded.

Beacon's courtyard was silent. Yennefer took Geralt's hand and squeezed.

The three of them stood there, staring at the place where their friends had disappeared. Then, Regis, murmuring something about herbs, shuffled off. Yennefer left soon after, leaving a soft peck on his cheek as she brushed past.

Geralt lingered, his eyes fixed on the place where his friends had disappeared. He stood there for what must have been almost half an hour. Then, with a sigh, he turned his back on the empty space and faced Beacon Academy once more. His office hours were starting soon.

At the knock on his door, Geralt glanced up from his small alembic. "Come in," he called.

The door opened, and Ozpin stepped inside, his expression pensive. "Geralt," he said. "I'd like a word, if you have a moment."

"Sure. What is it?"

Ozpin shut the door. "I believe I mentioned to you that the students will be accompanying trained Huntsmen on missions in about a week?"

Geralt nodded. "Yes. And as I recall, you're planning to use that as an opportunity to have them scout the situation."

"Precisely," said Ozpin with small nod. "May I sit down?"

"Of course." Geralt sat behind the desk, and the headmaster took the seat opposite him, his hands resting on his cane between his knees.

"You are, of course, not a Huntsman," Ozpin said, considering him over his spectacles.

"You don't say."

Ozpin's lips twitched. "However," he continued, "you are skilled, and in ways Huntsmen often are not. In addition, the students, at least those taking your class, trust you."

"You want me to lead one of these missions."

"If you would be willing," Ozpin said quickly. "And if it will not be a significant blow to your research. Any weapon against the Grimm is vital, and if you are nearing a breakthrough, that takes precedent."

"I'm not," Geralt admitted. "It's hard to work with samples when the flesh dissolves once it leaves the body or the body dies. I'm stuck using live Grimm, and we just don't have many."

Ozpin's brows furrowed slightly. "No. No we don't. Perhaps that can be changed."

Geralt blinked, leaning forward marginally. "What do you mean?"

"The actual missions the students go on are not nearly as important as where those missions are," Ozpin said. "For instance, I intend to put Team RWBY in a position to take a mission in the ruins of Mountain Glen, for two reasons. First, Miss Rose believes that the White Fang has a presence there, and that is a suspicion worth investigating. Second, the old rail network connecting the ruins to Vale proper could be a security risk, and we must ensure that our enemies are not planning to use it."

Geralt drummed his fingers on his desk. "So you want to send me somewhere I can both scout and gather samples," he said. "You really want students handling live Grimm?"

"We will need to find a location where the Grimm are numerous, but weak—and which has tactical significance." Ozpin hummed thoughtfully, then shook his head. "But all of this depends on you. Are you willing to take this on, Geralt? If so, I will look for a target for you."

Geralt nodded. "Sure, if you can find a place."

Ozpin nodded, standing up. "I will let you know the moment I find something," he said. "You should know whether and where you will be going by… Friday at the latest."

Geralt nodded. "I'll tell Yen," he said. "Any idea which team will be going with me?"

"Technically the assignments are supposed to be blind," said Ozpin. "However, yours is a special case. Your technique would be unfamiliar to most of our students."

"So, RWBY, JNPR, or CFVY?"

"Likely JNPR or CFVY—As I said, RWBY will likely be going to Mountain Glenn. But we will see." Ozpin turned and opened the door. "Thank you for your time, Geralt. I will keep you apprised."

"All right," said Geralt, standing from his meditative position. The class watching him expectantly from their desks, bestiaries and notebooks open in front of them. "Today we're going to be talking about something some of you may already be familiar with. If you aren't, you're not gonna master it after one session. I don't expect you to. We're going to be talking about specialized combat styles."

That got a few confused looks, but a few notable nods of understanding, specifically from Ren, Fox, and Yang—the three most accomplished martial artists among the class. "Uh," Ruby said slowly. "You mean… how our styles are different from each other?"

"No," Geralt said. "How you can have multiple styles. Ren, come down here, please."

Ren stood up and walked between the desks to the center of the room. He held himself, as always, with an almost uncanny grace, and his carefully neutral expression hid any trace of nerves or excitement.

"You were trained in martial arts," Geralt said. It wasn't a question. "What did you call different styles?"

"Forms, Professor."

"Geralt. How many forms do you know?"

Ren twitched slightly. "Only three. There was a fourth in my school, but I… was not there long enough to learn it."

There was a story there, but Geralt moved on. "And you're still in practice with all three?"

"To an extent," Ren said. "I generally prioritize the Air form, but I continue to practice the Fire and Water forms." He glanced down. "I was never a master of the Water form, however. It is… antithetical."

Geralt nodded. "Mastering Griffin and Manticore took me a long time, too," he confessed. "They're both alternatives to Wolf School, and it's just similar enough to cause me trouble." He drew his sword with a flourish. "The Witchers had several distinct schools," he said. "Each approached the work differently. They wore different gear, used different techniques, and tended to be better at different things. I'm from the Wolf School, which tended to prioritize a balance of offense and defense in combat, intermixed with grenades and some signs."

Ren nodded, slowly drawing StormFlower. "What are the other schools?" he asked.

"The two I know best," Geralt said, slowly shifting into a lighter, more aggressive stance. "Are the School of the Cat—which is the form I'm going to use now—and the School of the Bear. There were also the Manticore, Griffin, and Viper schools. I never learned the Viper style, but Manticore and Griffin are both fairly similar to Wolf School, with slightly different focuses."

"How so?"

"Why don't I show you?" Geralt said, his hands shifting on his blade. "Use your Fire form, I'll use Cat."

Ren nodded, bowing and taking an unfamiliar stance. His feet separated but remained close. His knees bent unnaturally deeply, leaving him looking slightly askew.

"Aura up?" Geralt asked.

"Of course. Yours?"

Geralt nodded and, without any warning, spun into action, his blade twining through the air like razor wire. Ren's eyes widened, but he dropped with impressive agility, his head slipping beneath the scything steel. His blades came out, curving upwards, and he dealt Geralt a scything blow to the belly which put a clear dent in Geralt's Aura.

With a grunt, Geralt took a quick, short jump back, and then leapt forward with an aggressive flurry of blows. Ren went on the defensive, through a series of small dodges intended to get him into position for a counterattack. They worked about half the time; the dodges were too small to avoid all of Geralt's attacks, with his Witcher's reflexes speeding him along and allowing for quick changes to his attacks. The steel sword dealt a few crackling blows against Ren's Aura, filling the room with an electric hiss. But when he did succeed in avoiding the blows, leaving Geralt's blade to swish uselessly through the air, his counterattacks easily slipped through the frail Cat School guard. Geralt managed to jump out of the way of a few of them, but Ren was fast enough to slip in before he could escape, most of the time.

As his Aura dwindled, Geralt took it up a notch. He began to roll around Ren, dancing around him with a speed the young man had trouble keeping up with. But this was a style Ren's Fire form excelled with. Ren barely seemed to need to look at him before he was parrying and countering his blows. The Fire form seemed to include a versatility of direction. Ren seemed ready to strike out in, or defend from, any direction, or many at once.

When Geralt felt his aura break, he jumped away. "Enough!" he called. Ren stopped immediately, sheathing StormFlower with a flourish.

The room erupted in applause. Nora shouted something like "That's my ninja-teammate-BFF!" Geralt glanced around at the students. Most of them were wide-eyed, but a few—Yang, Fox, Pyrrha, Ruby, and Velvet—were looking between himself and Ren with varying degrees of academic interest.

Geralt sheathed his blade. "Pyrrha," he called. The red-haired girl blinked, sitting up straighter and shifting her grip on the pencil she'd been using to take notes. "What would you say was different about the way I fought, this time?"

Pyrrha coughed embarrassedly. "You—did not use any of your Signs," she said. "You were much more aggressive—I didn't see you parry more than one or two or Ren's attacks. Your targeting also changed—you normally prioritize disabling strikes to limbs and extremities, but this time you were primarily aiming for blows which would have been lethal, without Aura."

Geralt nodded. "Very good," he said. "The Cat School Witchers were often mistaken for assassins. They prioritized quick, deadly strikes, and favored attack over defense. They tended to be lighter on their feet, and use lighter armor. They preferred their fights to end quickly, instead of lasting until someone keeled over. That made them better at contracts against some monsters—vampires, some draconids, and smaller relicts—but they tended to be worse at fighting bigger, heavier prey, like fiends, large hybrids, or more dangerous necrophages. They also didn't use signs as often, which made them worse at dealing with elementals and humanoids."

"And all the schools had weaknesses like those?" Velvet asked.

"And strengths," Geralt clarified. "The point of mastering multiple styles is to tailor your approach to whatever you're fighting. Wolf School is relatively balanced—the only thing it's really bad at dealing with is enemies who close fast and attack quickly, like the faster insectoid and vampire variants. But it's not the best at almost anything, except maybe fighting humanoids who know their way around their weapons. And even then, Griffin School is probably better because it has so much Sign control."

"So, are you gonna spend the entire lesson talking about the styles you know how to use?" Yang drawled, a smirk on her lips. "Or are you going to start teaching us about developing our own?"

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her. "…Yes, we're going to talk about developing your individual styles. On that note, congratulations, you're now our next example."

"Ah, Geralt, thank you for coming," said Ozpin, looking at him over his glasses. "Please, sit down. Coffee?"

Geralt frowned at the man as he took a seat across the headmaster's desk. "…What's the problem, Ozpin?"

Ozpin's lips twitched. "I forget how perceptive you are, sometimes." He leaned back in his chair. "I have good news and bad news."

Geralt blinked once. It was the only reaction he gave.

"The good news," Ozpin said, "is that I have found a location for your mission. There is a ruin east of Mountain Glen, some distance from any settlement. Grimm concentrations have been increasing there, and we would like to know why."

Geralt nodded. "And no one's seen anything unusually dangerous?"

"Nothing worse than large Boarbatusks and Ursae," Ozpin reassured him. "It should be ideal, except for two issues."

"And those issues are…?"

"First, it is too far from any settlement for reliable retrieval of any specimens you capture. We will issue you a bullhead and you will need to extract yourselves and your samples in one trip. This means you will only be able to retrieve a limited number." Ozpin cleared his throat. "The second issue is that the Grimm concentrations have been increasing. Significantly."

Geralt narrowed his eyes. "How significant are we talking?"

"Our most recent aerial footage suggests as much as a 400% increase. For every one Grimm that was in the area two months ago, there are now about five."

Geralt gritted his teeth. "That's not an increase; that's a swarm."

"Not an inaccurate assessment," Ozpin admitted. "Which is why I am… wary, to say the least, of sending students into the area."

"Especially if we want to do more than airlift a few samples," said Geralt quietly. "I don't know, Ozpin. My students are good, but I don't think even CFVY is that good, and I've already worked with CFVY once. I'd ideally like to see how JNPR does, next."

"What if you brought additional support?" Ozpin suggested. "I can likely assign you an additional Huntsman."

Geralt frowned. "…Hold that thought," he said, standing up. "There's someone I want to talk to."

"Regis, can I have a word?" Geralt said, leaning against the doorframe.

Regis' room had become more of a makeshift study than a bedroom. An alchemical array which dwarfed Geralt's own sprawled over the desk, spilling over the sides until it practically covered an entire wall of the room. Regis himself was bowed over his end table, scrawling something in a notebook. He glanced up at the sound of his name. "Ah, Geralt. Of course, what is it?"

"I need live Grimm samples for my experiments, and Ozpin wants to send the students out with Huntsman supervision to scout." Geralt proceeded to explain the situation in full. Regis only occasionally interrupted to ask for clarification.

"A fivefold increase in Grimm activity…" Regis mused, staring over at his equipment. "That certainly is suspicious. We might learn a great deal about what drives the creatures by investigating."

"I need help, Regis," Geralt admitted. "I can't keep four students safe in a horde like that. Not on my own. And I know you've probably been wanting to get out of here to get some samples of your own."

"Indeed I have," Regis acknowledged. He narrowed his eyes at Geralt for a moment. "Are you sure it is wise to take JNPR on this job, Geralt? They are inexperienced—Jaune in particular, from what I've seen."

"They take care of each other," Geralt said. "And we'll have a bullhead with us—as long as we're not taken by surprise, we should be able to make a quick escape, if we need to."

"I suppose that's true," Regis allowed. "Very well. I would be happy to join you on this excursion, if you'll have me. And, of course, if you're certain it's wise to put your students in a situation where they may see me… cut loose, as it were."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Geralt said. "At least if you're open to it. JNPR are good people."

"I will trust you, then, Geralt," said Regis, but there was an undercurrent of tension there. "I hope you are right—it would be a shame to lose the goodwill I've been fortunate enough to gain so far."

"You won't," Geralt promised.

"I pray you are right," Regis murmured. He considered Geralt for a moment. "If I might change the subject, I have been wondering. What monsters—what creatures of the Conjunction—have you encountered in your time on Remnant?"

Geralt frowned, thinking. "Directly, not too many. You remember the leshen. There were an incubus and a nightwraith. That's all I've seen in person."

"In person?" Regis probed. "Then you have seen evidence of others?"

"Some," Geralt confirmed. He drummed his fingers on Vesemir's holster on his hip, thinking back. "There were signs of sirens and echidnae on the southern coast, signs of draconids in the Blackmarsh. And, well…" he coughed. "Vampires feature in Remnant's folktales."

"Indeed. I gathered that much," Regis confirmed. "But you have not yet encountered any?"

"No…" Geralt studied his friend. There was something sly in his voice. "…Unless I have?"

Regis' lips twitched. "I'm afraid so, my friend."

"Who?"

"The Haven exchange student. Emerald Sustrai?"

Geralt nodded slowly. "Green. Yes, I remember her. I think she's friendly with RWBY."

"I only hope that friendship is genuine," Regis said, his faint smile slipping off his face. "You know as well as I—not all vampires are monsters, but those that are…"

"Yeah." Geralt sighed, bringing up a hand to rub at his temples. "They're really monsters. She's, what—a Bruxa? An Alp?"

"No. Higher."

Geralt swore.

A tiny, amused smile touched Regis' lips for a moment. "Indeed." Then his face fell again. "Be careful, Geralt. She is young—and, as I can attest, young higher vampires are not often bastions of clear judgement."

"Just what I needed," Geralt growled. "Not just a higher vampire—a teenage higher vampire in my school. Damn."

"I have warned her that you and I will be watching her," Regis said. "I only hope that the knowledge that one of her own kind is protecting the students will be enough to dissuade her from doing anything particularly rash."

"I guess that's all we can do," Geralt muttered. "You sure it's safe to leave her here?"

Regis hummed thoughtfully before answering. "So long as Ozpin and Yennefer are warned, it should be. I expect those two can defend themselves."

Geralt's face fell. "Oh, damn."

Regis raised an eyebrow. "…Is something wrong?"

"I forgot to tell Yen about this mission."

Regis gave a thin smile. "Ah. You had best get to it then, my friend." He glanced over at the alchemical equipment on the far wall. "I shall return to my experiments. Shall I see you at dinner?"

"Yeah." Geralt turned and opened the door to the dark little room. "See you then."

"Geralt," Yennefer said, her voice as silky and smooth as the edge of a knife. "Just to be clear—I am the very last person to hear about this excursion of yours?"

Geralt hesitated. "JNPR doesn't know yet," he offered. It sounded weak even in his own ears.

Her violet eyes fixed him through the mirror. She was seated on a stool at her vanity, a comb in one hand as the other fiddled with her amulet. He could only barely see himself behind her in the mirror in front of her. "I see," she said evenly.

The silence stretched. After an immesurable length, she sighed. "I suppose—"

"Do you want to come?"

She blinked at him. "Excuse me?"

"I assumed you wouldn't," Geralt admitted. "But we can make room for one more on the bullhead."

Yennefer stared at him, then sighed. A faint smile touched her lips. "No," she admitted. "I'm still acclimatizing to Remnant's cities, at this point. And you know I enjoy my comforts."

Geralt nodded wordlessly.

"You still shouldn't have assumed," she admonished, but there was little rancor in her voice. "Please try to remember that I am here now, Geralt—we're no longer living half a continent apart, and busy with entirely separate things."

Geralt held her gaze for a moment, then looked away. "I will."

"Good." She smiled at him. "Do take care of yourself on this little jaunt, won't you?"

"Of course."

"When do you leave?"

"Next week. Tuesday."

"Well, at least you've given me some warning," she said dryly. She put down her comb, stood up, and stretched. A flick of her wrist made the stool beneath her vanish into a sprinkling of glittering motes.

"There's more," Geralt said.

Yennefer's eyes narrowed. "Oh, dear, Geralt—I do hope you're not trying to make me cross."

"I only found out about this a few minutes ago," Geralt protested. "Regis told me. You should know, since he and I aren't going to be here."

Yennefer turned to face him properly, her brow creased. "I'm listening."

Geralt told her about Emerald. She responded much as he had—with an oath.

"I suppose we have no idea what she's planning?" she asked.

"She may not be planning anything," Geralt pointed out. "She may really be a Huntress-in-training who happens to be a vampire."

"I somehow doubt that."

"So do I, but if I've learned anything it's that there's no sense judging her based on her species. Just… keep an eye on her while we're gone?"

"Of course." Yennefer sighed. "Of course I shall, Geralt. But, for now—I believe it's time we joined the others for dinner." She reached out and took his arm. "I assume you'll be telling Professor Ozpin about this?"

"Of course. It's his school."

"Good. I know what to look for in a vampire, but he would know better than I what would be amiss in a Huntress-in-training. We will work together. With luck, your classroom will still be in one piece when you return." She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling slyly. "Assuming, of course, that Miss Xiao Long has a mission of her own."

Geralt rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face as he led her down towards the great hall.