(Warning: Contains spoilers for the Skelligan section of Witcher 3 and my ending for that game. I know, I know at 1.7 million words, isn't a spoiler warning a little redundant by now? and yes, I can see that point but still.)

(A/N: The thoughts and views expressed in this chapter are not the views and thoughts of the author. I hope that this is self-explanatory but I err on the side of caution in this kind of thing. Also, warnings for strong language.)

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Do you ever wish that things were that simple? I do. All the time in fact. It happens all the time in books and plays and things when people are confronted by the situation and one person says to another, most often the villain of the piece to the hero, “Did you honestly think it was going to be that simple?”

Well I want it to be that simple. I wanted Kerrass to tell Queen Cerys about how the Skeleton Ship would be dismissed so that we could set about getting the task done as soon as possible. I wanted it done. I wanted it over. I wanted her to be told and for her to give her blessing to the enterprise so that we could all climb on horses to stomp over to the druid's sanctuary. Then we could drag the offending, lying sack of shit masquerading as a Druid, out of the place by his ear and demand to know the answers. Then we could deal with the matter and move on with our lives.

There would be cheers. Kerrass would say what would happen and then the crowd would cheer. There would be a party where Kerrass, Helfdan, the rest of the crew and I would be lauded, celebrated and showered with gifts. and then I could go to bed. I will leave it t your consideration as to which bit I was looking forward to the most.

But of course it wasn't that simple. Of course it wasn't. It could never be that simple. There was too much going on. Too much at stake. Not least of which was the truly colossal amount of money that is poured into the coffers of Skellige by all the tourists that come and partake of Skelligan hospitality, while waiting to witness the passing of the Skeleton Ship through the imposing harbour of Kaer Trolde.

There was also the matter of the attemp on Ciri's life, signifying a potential coup in Nilfgaard. The subversion of the Queen's commands and general orders. We needed to know who had sent Captain Rymer and if anyone was trying to support Finnvald in some way.

Then there was the whole political question. To fulfil the entire thing, we were going to have to go into the Druid's sanctuary and pull out a man that would, undoubtedly, resist. Such a thing was unprecedented. Druid's have held a sacrosanct power in the Skelligan isles for centuries, so forcing our way inside had massive, political and legal ramifications.

So when Kerrass stood before the hall and told the Queen that the matter was complex and dangerous, the crowd was unhappy. He went on to point out that the attacks about their person was significant and that what he had to tell the Queen had certain potential problems with it that might have a considerable knock on result. That serious questions would need to be asked as well as serious decisions made about whether or not to proceed.

And so, not without reason, Queen Cerys decided that she wanted to discuss it with her advisers first. So After Kerrass told her, before all the witnesses that the information was potentially delicate, she soon saw the wisdom of taking people aside to her private rooms and talking about it.

It turns out that her personal advisers consist of the six Jarls, all of whom had been summoned to Kaer Trolde at the outset of our mission as we were well aware that this kind of thing might come up. She also brought in the Royal Skald, the man who had spoke out in my defence that same night, as well as Ciri, Kerrass, myself and Helfdan. With Ciri came two members of the Imperial guard in their full, segmented plate mail with their anonymous face plates. Word had been sent that Lord Voorhis would be able to come in as well when he was done with whoever, or whatever, he was dealing with.

There was very nearly some violence when Svein just assumed that he would be included as well. The guards were reluctant while he was annoyed at the possibility that he would be more than arms reach from his master. But Helfdan calmed the matter and told Svein to see to the men, in order that they got the food, rest and medicine that they all needed.

It was also common for Lord Ermion, the head of the Druid's circle in Skellige, to be included in the circle of advisers that the Queen regularly summoned. But the man is ageing a bit now and, apparently, he had not taken the news of Ciri's death well. Apparently he had been unable to scry the status of the Wave-Serpent and her crew, which was not uncommon in the presence of the Skeleton Ship and had assumed the worst.

Another reason to add to the list as to why I had not been able to reach Ariadne when that would have been so useful.

But Ermion hadn't taken the news well. He had gone back to the Druid's sanctuary in order to “grieve” and recover. It was clear that both the Queen and her brother missed his presence.

I was aware of the other Jarls of the clans but I hadn't been formally introduced. The six of them collected in the one place at the same time for the first time since, I understand, the crowning of Queen Cerys. They stood in the Queen's chambers eyeing each up as though they were trying to decide who was going to blink first. Thus showing that it doesn't matter where you are in the world. Politics is the same wherever you end up going. Each of the six men were looking at each other, looking for weaknesses and ways to seize the advantage.

Helfdan introduced Kerrass and I round while Hjalmar and the Queen finished their business in the main hall and waiting for all of the others to go through into her rooms.

The first Jarl that I met was already waiting in the main office when I got there. His name was Holger Blackhand of clan Dimun and if half the stories I have heard about this man, this pirate, are correct, then he is a terrifying man. He has dark, shaggy hair and brown eyes. Or should I say Brown eye as his left eye is grey and milky. The man has an evil reputation due to his determination to pursue raiding as a source of income, even against his own countrymen. This is lessened a little in recent years both for the reforms of Queen Cerys as well as the loss of his eldest son during the massacre that took place before Queen Cerys was elevated. He was wearing an old, olive green shirt with Gold thread as a trim and an over-jacket, made from some kind of fur. It might have been seal skin or otter fur but it looked old, much patched and much loved along with it. He wears a hook round his neck in the same way that I wear my holy Symbol of the Eternal Flame.

Apparently, his bloodthirstiness has lessened since the loss of his son, but the Ships of Clan Dimun are still a scourge of the trade fleets.

I found him quite charming. As I say, his face is badly scarred due to some kind of old injury, a scar cuts his face and causes the left side of his face to sag slightly. He grinned when Helfdan came in the room.

“Damn fine piece of sailing that Helfdan.” He rushed over and shook Helfdan's hand. “Shame about your ship but it just means that the rest of us can get some glory while you're off the water eh?”

“As you say Jarl Holger.” Helfdan said without emotion.

“So when are you going to stop sailing for Hjalmar and come work for me? I could use a sailor and Captain like you.” He demanded with mock seriousness.

“I'm rather attached to my land and people Jarl Holger.” Even though the question from Jarl Holger was obviously a jest, Helfdan took it deathly seriously.

“Ah well, I had to try. You understand of course?”

“I do Jarl Holger.”

“Still, it means that I could get away with raiding your village now doesn't it?” Holger grinned in his jest that was also, not quite a jest. “What with no Wave-Serpent to defend it and your numbers depleted.”

“When you are ready,” Helfdan responded. “Yngvild is always telling me how she yearns for a proper fight so... when you are ready.”

Jarl Holger laughed. “Damn me, but what I could do with a Captain like you.” He turned to me. “And you must be Lord Coulthard. Of the trading company?”

“Indeed Jarl Holger.” I responded carefully.

“Your sister's a fine woman.” He cackled. “Your ships are much harder to raid now that she's in charge. Astonishing how few continental merchants cut costs when it comes to protecting their goods. Still, means that I get rich.”

I found myself grinning with him.

“Seriously though,” he put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me close and stared into my eyes, speaking quietly and with a coldness that was frightening, hinting at the pirate that he is. “If you and your Witcher have found a way to end the Skeleton Ship, I am in your debt.”

“Well, we have.” I told him carefully. “And I believe that Kerrass is about to tell the room, and the Queen, how it would be done.”

Lord Holger's hand tightened on my shoulder as he flinched in remembered pain. “When we have that news, and the Skeleton Ship is gone. Your families ships sail without fear of me.” He told me.

“My sister will be delighted.” I told him, even more carefully than before. “But I understand that there may be some question as to whether or not the matter will go the way you, and I, want.”

“Maybe not this time.” He admitted. “But soon and if your method works?” He shrugged and pulled away moving off to speak with Ciri about something.

I shivered and was astonished at the fact that I had found myself liking one of the most terrifying men to sail the oceans.

The other man that was already in the room when I got there was the erstwhile Lord of Clan Tuirseach. Since the death of King Bran and all the machinations that had come afterwards which can be read about in the tales of the bard, Clan Tuirseach had been taken over by King Bran's younger brother after the son of King Bran was exiled due to the machinations of his mother. It was said that the new Jarl looked more like their more famous older brother, King Eist Tuirseach in that he was thin and slightly wiry looking.

His name was Ingimund. He kept his hair longish but still able to fit under his helmet and a grey beard that was kept short so that it could stay close to the skin. Rather than the long, flowing tresses that most men of the Skelligan isles seem to prefer in their beards. His face was thin and morose looking and he seemed to have an almost nervous habit of stroking his beard and rubbing at his face. His eyes were dark, angry and he looked on the rest of the room with a resentment that seemed a little strange to me.

The way Holger had behaved towards him when we entered, it seemed that he was out of favour at the moment. I dismissed this on the grounds that Clan Tuirseach had been through a lot and had lost a lot of prestige since the days of Kings Eist and Bran. His tunic was a light blue in colour with a grey and silver lining along the edge.

I got the feeling that he hated me.

Closely behind us as we entered, came Jarl Udalryk of Clan Brokvar. Another long faced man with dark hair and beard that was turning to grey. Also another man who was missing an eye although, unlike Lord Holger, he covered his with an eye patch. He was a sad faced man who gave the impression of a once powerfully built man who had suffered through an extended horrific illness. But his remaining eye twinkled with intelligence and a humour underneath it all. Of all of the Jarls, he had made the most concession to the cold.

There seemed to be a kind of general effort to defy the cold in all areas, as if wrapping yourself up in fur and wool somehow lessened you as a man. But Udalryk was wrapped in fur lined with the Dark Green colours of his clan.

As he entered, he embraced Ciri warmly and told her that it was good to see her safe and well before he asked her to remember him to her father. The exchange was a mystery to me and I did not ask. Then he shook Kerrass' hand warmly muttering something about Witchers being under-appreciated before shaking my hand and Helfdan's hand. Then he moved over to the drink bottles, pouring himself a stiff whisky.

If I could tell you all the stories about Donar an Hindar, Jarl of clan Heymaey, that I have heard in my relatively brief time spent on the islands then I would be able to fill pages and pages of text. But that's not the point. As the oldest of the currently living Jarls as well as the longest serving in that position. Technically speaking, he has precedence and it was he who presided over the council of Jarls that chose Cerys as the next Queen of Skellige.

According to island conversations, he was a fierce and feared raider when he was younger, generally preferring to raid the sites of continental religious sites on the grounds that they would often be found to contain the most hidden wealth. In contrast to this disdain for continental religions, he is known to be a deeply religious and spiritual man which goes hand in hand with the fact that he is Jarl of Hindersfjall with the temple to Freya that is situated there. He is one of those, slow to anger, quick to laugh, elders that ruling councils all over the world require in order to be able to properly govern themselves.

He can, occasionally give the impression that he is not very bright when you talk to him, but it would be a mistake to assume that this is the case. He just likes to take his time is all. Nowadays he is a large man, white haired although his beard still shows sign of darkness from the black hair that he had as a younger man, along with large bushy eyebrows. He dresses in light leathers, dyed yellow.

He is easy in his authority and sees no need to exert his authority on anyone.

Donar approached Helfdan upon entering.

“Lord Helfdan.” He said, shaking Helfdan's hand. An action that Helfdan had to force himself to take part in.

“Lord Donar.” Helfdan broke contact as soon as he could.

“I must apologise Lord Helfdan.” Donar was speaking loudly so that his words could carry to all corners of the room. Holger and Udalryk who were chatting together over the drinks table looked over to see what all the fuss was about.

“Lord?” Helfdan frowned in question.

“It is my understanding, Lord Helfdan, that you were attacked by bandits on Hindersfjall.”

Helfdan frowned. “I do not recall being attacked by bandits Lord Donar.” He said politely. “I remember being attacked by Captain Rymer and his crew.”

Donar smiled tightly. “Precisely my point. You handled the matter well in my opinion.” I saw Ingimund of clan Tuirseach shifting uncomfortably and realised that Donar was twisting the knife a bit in some kind of ongoing political chicanery. “But I must apologise.” Donar went on. “I have ordered my Huscarls to make some more proper patrols of the island to prevent visitors to the temple of Freya from being attacked again in the future. I am shamed that such a matter should happen on my island.”

Helfdan had realised what was happening and sighed before frowning and narrowing his eyes a little. “I feel as though I am missing some small and vital piece of information Lord Donar.” He said calmly and, I thought, a little coldly. “I was attacked by Captain Rymer. Although I did not ask him to break his word or his vow, I was left with the impression that he attacked us under orders. The terms of his release were that he would go to the Queen and inform her of what happened.”

“Quite right too.” Donar told us. “Which he did, and given that the Queen has the power to demand the breaking of any vow of secrecy, it was the correct and honourable thing to do.”

Helfdan looked a little bored, also a little disappointed. I recognised the expression as I had worn it myself on more than one occasion, mostly while dealing with Kerrass and matters where he is using me to illustrate a point. Or deliberately keeping me in the dark so that he has a fresh and unbiased opinion on a matter. It was the face of dawning realisation that there is nothing left to do other than to play your part, even when you know what the end result is going to be.

“I see.” Helfdan said with a sigh. “What happened then?”

“Well, that's where it gets confusing.” Lord Donar was giving the impression of being a happy, genial and jolly older Skelligan but the truth was that he wasn't that good at hiding his emotions. The Skelligans are an emotional people after all. There was a glint in his eye that suggested that he was absolutely furious. “You see, Captain Rymer, a man who is, even if he is a bit full of himself, a relatively honourable man. Given to loyalty to the expense of all other virtues.”

“He behaved well in the circumstances.” Helfdan admitted.

“Precisely. Well, Captain Rymer, Goddess bless his heart, tells us the Queen that he was sailing under the orders of Jarl Ingimund of Clan Tuirseach.”

“He lied.” Ingimund snapped. He said it angrily but I got the feeling that it was a kind of tired, habitual anger. The kind of anger that has been used up a long time ago and now only comes out of habit.

“Which is the point.” Donar said to Helfdan. “His Jarl said that he lies, therefore he lies. Therefore Rymer and his crew were bandits when they were attacking you and that is shameful to me. So I apologise.”

“I see.” Helfdan's voice was flat.

“I will of course, make full reparations to you and to the families of those injured and killed.”

“There weren't any killed on my side.” Helfdan told him. Donar perked up noticeably before Helfdan carried on speaking. “But as for me, there is no need of reparations. Such things happen. I am more interested in the people that convinced Lord Finnvald to betray me as well as who convinced the Nilfgaardian merchants to cause the destruction of my ship. Of those men, I will demand my justice.” He said it flatly.

I might have imagined it. But I wondered if Lord Igimund flinched at the deadly tone in Helfdan's voice.

“Grateful to you Lord Helfdan.” Donar told him. “Very grateful for your understanding.”

He went to turn away but Helfdan wasn't done with him. “Lord Donar? There were a number of mercenaries that sailed with Captain Rymer at the time. I am certain that Captain Rymer could not afford that many mercenaries.”

Lord Donar's face brightened up instantly. “So what you're saying is that that money must have come from somewhere. Also, those mercenaries would know some more information that could be used to prove the matter beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Helfdan nodded carefully. “That way, we could be able to at least move towards who the real cuprits are.”

Lord Donar nodded “Would you not agree, Lord Ingimund?” He asked innocently.

“You would trust mercenaries?” Ingimund sneered. “Mercenaries who are famed for being liars and cheats.”

“I am a mercenary.” Kerrass commented calmly. “And I tend to get upset when people call me a cheat.”

I saw the opening and went for it. “Not for when people call you a liar though?” I joked.

“Well no.” Kerrass admitted. “People generally prefer soft truths in my line of work. You can't tell someone that the reason that the barn is cursed is because their long dead father assaulted, abused and murdered a local girl before burying her at the back beneath the hay-bale. I have to make something up about it being someone who has angered the Gods, or something.”

His voice went back to being hard. “But I would never lie under oath in legal matters and if a priest or official asked for the truth of the matter then my code demands that I tell the truth.”

Ingimund said nothing and stalked off to the other side of the room where he examined one of the swords that was attached to the wall. I wondered how often that sword had been examined over the years by people who need an excuse to avoid uncomfortable conversations.

Donar grinned happily and went to confer with Jarl Udalryk.

Then the Jarl of Clan Tordarroch came in. A much younger man than all of the others save for Hjalmar but where Hjalmar is big, bluff and strong. This man was tall and thin. Blonde beard and hair were both shaggy and unkempt and he had the look of a man who had not slept properly in a long time.

His name is Throst Olifsson. Apparently a descendent of the Jarl who lost Undvik to the Giant. His reputation was that he was Lord in name only. Not that he didn't rule and administer the clan. But that he was all too aware that his skills as a carpenter were more needed than his skills as a Lord since the clan had returned to Undvik after the death of the Ice Giant. Apparently, he lived, worked, sweated and bled next to the rest of his people and they loved him for it. He also had a reputation as being a bit of a party animal and being a generally cheerful man. But that was not the way he came across when he stormed into the room.

He wasted no time in ignoring Helfdan's attempt at an introduction and stalked straight over to him.

“WHY.” He demanded of Helfdan. “Why in the God's name did you treat with the ice giants? Why did you not destroy them? Why did you treat with them?”

I recognised it then. The man was terrified.

“I didn't.” Helfdan said calmly.

“Why did you..... what?” Helfdan's calm response served to knock the wind out of the man's anger.

“I didn't treat with the Ice Giants.” Helfdan told him. “I treated with the Yukki-Onna who seem to be the people in charge of the ice creatures. Including the Ice Giants.”

“But from your own tale, the King of the Ice Giants tried to kill you after the truce was offered.”

“And he is no longer the King.” Helfdan responded. “He was stymied and defeated by his daughter.”

The Jarl stopped, suddenly deflated, and stared at the floor before looking back into Helfdan's face. “Will the truce hold?”

“It had better.” Helfdan said. “At best, a marriage between their people and mine is already organised. At worst, they have some of my wounded as hostages.”

“Lord Jarl, if I may.” I put in. “The Yuki-Onna are far more formal than the Ice Giants. Although I would admit that it would be a mistake to try and dismiss the cunning of the Ice Giants as well as their intelligence. The Yukki-Onna themselves have iron control over their own hearts and minds. They value honour highly and I very much doubt that, once given, their words would be broken. When the King of the Giants tried to break the truce, the Yukki-Onna placed themselves in the way to prevent our deaths.”

“Mmm.” The Jarl thought. “If this backfires Helfdan...” The threat hung in the air

“Don't make threats Lord Jarl.” Helfdan looked pained. “We did the best we could with what we knew at the time. Take your anger out on someone else.”

The Jarl nodded, brightening abruptly. “Still, if you really have found a way to get rid of the Skeleton Ship, then that is a boon in and of itself.”

Then we waited. I literally made small talk. My day still wasn't over. After all of that ruckus in the courtroom, after the journey and the lack of sleep and the need for hot food and drink. I was dead on my feet. But we still weren't done. I had to fight a, not small, urge to lean on Kerrass. But even he was looking tired.

Then the Queen entered, follower by her brother.

It bears remembering that Ciri was all but raised alongside these two people. Everything the trio needed to learn about the continent was learned from Ciri's Grandmother, Queen Calanthe. And everything that Ciri needed to learn about living in general, Ciri learned from Jarl Crach an Craite and his friends, Eist and Bran Tuirseach. Saying that they're a lot alike is almost as stupid as saying that the sky is blue.

Cerys was swearing.

The cold, calculating, almost distant Queen of the earlier part of the day was gone. The woman who had calmly watched, staying out of everything and keeping herself separate was replaced by an angry, hissing, spitting ball of fury that was more than a little intimidating. I was strongly reminded of a similar situation where we were all waiting for the Empress in a room, not entirely dissimilar from this one and she arrived, announced by a solid stream of invective.

Hjalmar, in comparison, was probably more terrifying. He now looked stone cold sober and his face was thunder. Where his sister was giving vent to her feelings, Hjalmar was banking his rage and I found myself dreading the potential results.

Cerys abruptly stopped swearing when she noticed us all waiting for her before she walked over to her desk and carefully took the circlet off her head. She didn't hurl it across the room as Ciri had once done but instead she pulled it free of the thick red hair that it seemed almost woven into before gently and equally as carefully, placing it on the desk. Then she leant on the desk for some time. I don't know what was happening, but I guess that she was endeavouring for calm, focusing on breathing in and out or some kind of similar calming technique.

Hjalmar stalked over to the drinks table and, eschewing a glass, lifted one of the bottles of spirits to his lips and drained a significant amount. He put it back before wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and glared at everyone. His entire attitude was of a man who was desperate for someone, anyone to pick a fight with him

We all watched Cerys. I glanced sideways. Ciri's eyes were glinting, her two guardsmen were impassive. Kerrass was leant forward slightly with his eyes reflecting the torchlight in a manner that others might find intimidating. The other Jarls wore different expressions varying from concern, confusion, curiosity and reserve.

Helfdan couldn't give a damn and was just waiting. He had backed away to the side of the room. Thus keeping himself out of everyone's way as the lowest ranking person here. While also being able to watch everything. I so desperately wanted to join him at the wall but neither Ciri or Kerrass had moved so I had to stay with them.

So we watched the Queen, leaning on her desk with her head bowed.

“Jarl An Craite,” She said quietly. “As you are next to the bottles, could you pour me a drink please?”

Her brother moved and there was a clinking of glass which suggested that he was about his task.

“Your Majesty?” Jarl Donar prompted. “What has happened?”

“Plenty has happened Jarl Heymaey.” She told him without turning around. “Not least of which is a Nilfgaardian attack on one of my ships. Also an attack on the life of one who I call sister. Also, lies, disdain and a general lack of integrity amongst people that I have looked up to since I was young. And then a thing might happen which will change the nature of how we live our lives on these islands.”

She rubbed her head.

“But first, if my Jarls will indulge me. I should say that Jarl An Craite and I have just had a short conversation with the former Lord Finnvald and his answers were.... rather interesting.”

Hjalmar approached the desk and put the glass down in front of her. Half full of a dark amber liquid. She took a sip before a long swallow and then put the drink back down on the table.

“Jarl Tuirseach.” Cerys said calmly, still without turning around. “You will explain to me why Finnvald is of the opinion that he had been offered a place in your clan. He seems most convinced by this. He believes that he was going to wait until after the passing of the Skeleton Ship before approaching Jarl An Craite and asking to be released from his vows. Something that he would argue would be due to his grief at the loss of Helfdan and his crew and because he didn't want to disgrace clan An Craite any further.”

She turned back to the room then. Her hands clenching and unclenching at her side. She spoke calmly but her anger was undeniable. She also seemed resigned. Kind of tired. We could all guess what Jarl Inigmund's response to the accusations would be and I rather thought that Queen Cerys and her brother knew it too. It was also probably this that was making them so angry.

“Finnvald believes that he would be offered land, wealth and men as well as a marriage to one of your daughters Jarl Tuirseach.” Cerys went on. “Could you explain why he would think any of this?”

“I don't believe that I need to.” Jarl Ingimund responded. He was calm as he said it. Obviously expecting the question and had already got his answer prepared. “The man is a proven liar. So why would you believe him now?” He sighed, playing the part of a long suffering and put upon older man. “Your vendetta against Clan Tuirseach since the betrayal of Birna Bran is getting old Your Majesty. Clan Tuirseach will not tolerate your constant and consistent persecution.”

“Awfully big words.” Jarl Holger commented with a slightly crooked smile. “The use of big words does not make you appear more clever Ingimund.”

“Captain Rymer.” Hjalmar put in, not bothering to hide his disdain, anger and disbelief, “who sails for you, attacks the Wave-Serpent and informs us that he does so under your orders. Now Lord Finnvald who says that his betrayal was endorsed and even suggested by you. And my lookouts tell me that the sails on the horizon that have been sailing this way and that way belong to you. And that they have been sailing long after most sensible sailors have gone back to port.”

Helfdan cleared his throat.

“You were on a mission Helfdan, you don't count.” Hjalmar told him.

“Also, you are far from sensible.” Jarl Holger commented loud enough for everyone to hear him.

“This is ridiculous Your Majesty.” Jarl Ingimund retorted. “You take the word of a failure and a liar over the word of a Jarl? Are the laws regarding the statements of facts to be thrown by the wayside along with all of the other sacred laws and traditions that you and your brother seem so keen to get rid of.”

“Spare us your self-righteous carping Ingimund.” Holger of clan Dimun, told him, cleaning his nails with one of his daggers in the world's oldest intimidation trick. “You don't have to convince us that you're a traditionalist. Nor do you have to remind us about the long lineage and importance of clan Tuirseach. We know all of that. You tell us about it often enough.”

“But you also have to admit,” Jarl Udalryk was rolling his cup between his hands as he stared into the depths, “that there are few sayings that are quite as relevant as “There is no smoke without fire.” And my friend, while I share your concerns that we will lose our identity as a nation as I too am a traditionalist and I agree with a lot of what you say. But even you have to admit that you have never eaten quite so well as you have since the farming reforms of Queen Cerys. Or...” The older man's one remaining eye glittered, “that there has been an awful lot of smoke over the islands recently.”

“I agree with Lord Udalryk.” Lord Throst of Clan Tordarroch spoke up. More to be heard than anything else I think. As the youngest Jarl, he seemed to feel that he needed to remind everyone that he existed.

I was fascinated at the courtly manoeuvring of this foreign nation. I was also fascinated for just how long the Queen tolerated it. She leant backwards against her desk, her glass of spirits in hand while she watched the six of them argue, her eyes narrowed in thought as she was listening hard. She waited until it was plain that they were just arguing themselves round in circles, each of them reiterating the same points over and over and over again before she nodded to her brother who bellowed.

“ENOUGH.” The sound reverberated around the room. I had to turn away in order to stifle a laugh at the fact that the Queen had flinched aside from the noise herself with a small grimace of regret before rubbing at the ear closest to her brother.

“We can argue about all of this later.” Hjalmar said. “And I, for one, look forward to those arguments as I have quite a lot to say on the matter.” He glared at the Jarl of clan Tuirseach. “In the mean time, we have other things to discuss which are more pressing.”

“Yes.” Jarl Holger's dagger vanished now that he was more interested in proceedings. “How do we deal with the Skeleton Ship?”

“The Skeleton Ship must be left alone.” Jarl Ingimund intoned direly. “It is our oldest....”

“Oh shut up Ingimund.” Jarl Donar snapped. “Nothing has been decided yet. The knowledge itself is not bad and I too would like to know how such a thing could be done.”

“Agreed,” Jarl Throst interjected again.

“The decision is not made yet.” Donar, nodded his acknowledgement of The Jarl of Clan Tordarroch's agreement. “We need all the facts.”

Ingimund was unhappy with the reasonable arguments of the older Lord but there was little that he could do to argue against them.

“So, Witcher?” Cerys spoke again, folding her arms. “Explain yourself. How have you managed to solve a riddle that our greatest minds have not been able to solve since the founding of our nation? And how would we set about ridding ourselves of the Skeleton Ship.”

Kerrass stepped forward. He had put up with the politics, enduring it in the same way that he endures any kind of unpleasant task.

He was a lot more diplomatic than he could have been as well. He didn't tell them his often repeated line of “I don't understand how no-one thought about this before,” instead, he carefully laid out his reasoning as to when it came to the Skeleton Ship looking for something and someone. He talked about the need for more information and how one step led to another.

He talked about the trip to the watch tower and my meetings with Ragnvald. He spoke about what was found in the caves regarding the Ice Giants worshipping the ship as well as what light Ciri had been able to shed on the Skeleton Ship being from a different world. Then there was the discussion about speaking to the Priestesses of Freya and what they told us as well as the fact that the Ice Giants had not been able to tell us anything useful. There were a lot of questions from the Jarls about that meeting. Specifically why Helfdan hadn't pursued the combat or tried to take the Yuki-onna captive from the older Jarls to which Helfdan argued that such things would have been dishonourable in the extreme after the Yuki-onna had done their best to save the crew of the Wave-Serpent. There were also more probing questions about whether or not the Ice Giants could be trusted and we reiterated the same points.

Then came the discussion of what transpired between us and the Vodyanoi. Kerrass, Helfdan and I had to work closely together to try and remember everything that was said and each word was picked over and dissected by these men and one woman. It went on for so long that Ciri was yawning and I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Again, more questions about whether or not they can be trusted but after that...

The Jarls seemed more angry about the fact that we had negotiated with the Ice Giants than they were about the fact that we had spoken to the Vodyanoi. They were relatively happy about that and I wondered why. Ciri later suggested that it was because the Ice Giants were a more recent threat where the Vodyanoi were an ancient and un-knowable enemy.

“So that was it.” Kerrass finished. “We turned for Kaer Trolde which was when the Nilfgaardian merchant ships attacked us. You know the rest.”

“Awfully careless of you Helfdan.” Holger the Pirate joked. “Being caught out by merchants.”

“Merchants with a mage.” Helfdan told him.

“Even the best led and the best sailed ships fall before a mage, as well you know Jarl Dimund.” Jarl Donar chided gently.

“I have yet to hear an actual solution.” Cerys' voice cut through the hubub. “You have told us what happened Kerrass. You have told us what you went looking for and what you found. But what you haven't told us is how you linked it all together and most importantly, you haven't told us what any of this means. If we decide to destroy, dismiss or banish the Skeleton Ship,” She eyed Jarl Ingismund as she said this, “how do we do it?”

Kerrass raised his eyebrow. “Do you want the short version or the long version?”

Cerys' eyebrow answered his. To my mind, she does the eyebrow thing better than he does. “The long version.” She told him. “I want all the facts and I want all of your opinions. I will not go into this thing blind unless that is a necessary part of lifting the curse.”

I felt my own eyebrow rise at that last part but I didn't pursue it.

“As I say.” Kerrass began, “I guessed, based on the behaviour of the Skeleton Ship, that it was searching for something. It starts methodical but then later becomes more frantic. I will admit that at first I guessed that the ship had lost something rather than someone. This because the ship has been searching for centuries. If it had been a person then surely it would have died. This would have then meant that the ship would have had no obstacle in actually finding the thing that it was looking for as bodies are much easier to find.

“So my working theory was that the ship had passed by at some point and some enterprising young thief had got aboard somehow and stolen something, thus enacting the curse. I thought that the ship had come here through one of the gates between worlds that many, including me, believe to exist a few days sailing to the West although what brought it here, I didn't know.

“That doesn't really matter though because such behaviour is common in cursed people or cursed things. The solution is always the same, return the thing that was lost or stolen. Occasionally the thing then becomes solid and is then able to be destroyed, sometimes you have to complete the story and answer the thing's questions. Sometimes it just vanished before everyone's eyes. So it seemed entirely within my knowledge that if we found the thing. Then it would simply be a matter of waiting until the ship came back through the harbour and giving the item over. Then the Skeleton Ship would fuck off to wherever it came from and carry on it's journey to whatever else it was going to do.

“But the Vodyanoi told me that they had witnessed a man leaping over the side of the ship back in the prehistory of the Skelligan Isles. They remember it distinctly because, at the time, they had no idea what a man actually looked like. So they only realised what race he was when humanity first started to come to this part of the world.

“That changes nothing though. The object of the exercise is still to find the man and give him back to the Skeleton Ship.”

“So you're no closer to a solution after all.” Jarl Ingimund complained.

“No,” Cerys had not taken her eyes off Kerrass. “Witchers are not generally inclined to give up on a job half way through. Neither is Lord Helfdan. If they didn't know where the man was right now, they would be down at the docks looking for another ship to carry on the quest. Or they would be riding hither and thither on the islands looking for this person now that they have clues, including the fact that this person appears to be immortal. They know exactly where the man is. Don't you Witcher?”

Kerrass is made out of some stern stuff. I would have wilted under the Queen's gaze. “I do.” He replied. “The man in question is currently at the Druid's sanctuary. A place where he has been hiding for a not inconsiderable amount of time.”

The other Jarls shifted uncomfortably. More than one of them opened their mouths to start to speak but Cerys was quicker, holding up a hand to forestall the expected shouting and complaining. “How do you know this? and specifically, who is this man?”

“He was introduced to us as being called Lennox.” Kerrass told her. As you all know, Freddie and I are on an overall mission to find Freddie's sister who was taken from us in early Spring this year. If she is alive, we mean to rescue her and if she is dead then we mean to avenge her.”

The Jarls nodded their agreement. Such matters appeal to their nature.

“We have learned that the magic used to take her comes from another place. It is not magic the same way that we understand magic it is something else.”

“What do you mean?” Jarl Donar of Clan Heymaey asked.

“It's not important to this story if we're honest.” Kerrass told him. “This is just context. I will happily tell you everything you would like to know after the Skeleton Ship has passed and we are waiting for the ice to melt.”

Jarl Donar nodded his agreement.

“So we have been seeking knowledge about otherworldly magic so that we could track down the culprits. One of the places that we meant to look was at the Druid's Sanctuary on Ard Skellig. Given that they are amongst the oldest and most powerful Druid's Circles on the continent we had hoped that they would be able to tell us something more, or at least, would be able to tell us where to look.

“When we enquired of Lord Ermion as to this possibility, he introduced us to Lennox who was their resident expert in otherworldly matters. He agreed to help us but he wanted something in return. That thing that he wanted was the removal of the Skeleton Ship.”

Kerrass sighed at the memory. “Such quid pro quos are not unusual to a Witcher. People never give something for nothing. A fact that is highly annoying and has, in the past, led to a chain of favours where to get the thing in order to finish one hunt, we have to do another hunt for the man who has the thing which means that we need to gather some more things for this now sub-hunt which, in turn, means that we need to do other tasks for the owners of the smaller things and you would be forgiven if all of this is giving you a headache.”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

A couple of people snorted in amusement. I didn't see who it was though.

“However it would be fair to say that this is not the most convoluted chain of missions and quests that I have ever heard of.

“But we questioned Lennox about his desire to see the destruction of the Skeleton Ship. He trotted out what is the, I imagine, standard arguments for the destruction of the ship. The losses of commerce, the damage to livestock and farm land, the disruption of raiding seasons and the destruction of local ecosystems. All of which are good answers and if they had been said by anyone else, I would have believed them.”

Kerrass sighed and accepted a drink from Hjalmar. He looked around and pulled over a stool to sit on which many of the others took as a cue to find chairs of their own. Other than Ingimund and Holger who were pacing impatiently having, I suspect, already made their minds up about the situation.

Also Helfdan, who continued to stand quietly in the corner.

“I've been doing this a long time.” Kerrass said after taking a few sips from his glass. “And it's rare that I have met quite so blatant a liar as I met that day in the Druid's sanctuary. He spun us a yarn about how the passage of the ship had changed him. How it had destroyed his family and about how it had given him a deep and abiding fear of the water. I didn't believe him. The story that he told was, essentially, a first-hand version of the same story that the Skalds have been telling since we arrived in the islands. He didn't even tell it that well if we're being honest with each other. So it was plain that he was hiding things from us.”

“Why didn't you say anything then or confront him?” Jarl Throst asked.

“Because we were in the depths of the Druid's sanctuary. I could have kicked off, I could have confronted him with his untruths and demanded answers. I could even have extracted those answers if I had worked at it hard enough but I thought that this would have been counter-productive. The druids would have complained and you all, quite rightly, would have been forced to exile us from the islands. We knew he was lying but we needed proof. Confrontation limits options. Whereas letting him think that he had us convinced meant that we could be about our business.

“Also, the man is a coward. He would say anything to save his skin, including what he thought we wanted to hear while hiding the truth. So his information would be unreliable at best and outright dangerous at worst. So we determined that we would do the thing that he demanded in the hope that we would find proof that he was lying to us.”

“Did you find any?” Jarl Donar's face was darkening.

“Oh yes. In conversation with Ragnvald of the lookout, we discovered that a man answering to the description of Lennox appears at their watchtower to go through what they know about the Skeleton Ship. Apparently, the man sails with expert hands, climbs rope like a sailor and knows his way around the ship. Then he asks questions, pores through the records that are kept on that tower regarding the Skeleton Ship in an effort to find a way to destroy the ship. He always turns up a good six months or so after the Ship has left and it can be reasonably assumed that the Ship isn't going to return suddenly and mysteriously. At some point he becomes agitated before going into a rage and leaving in a huff.”

“A little flimsy.” Jarl Donar suggested.

“Which is why the next stage is for us to extract him from the Sanctuary and demand answers.” Kerrass said. “I'm as confident as I can be that the man Lennox is the key to all of this. I have acted on less and produced the goods.”

“Is the man a druid?” Jarl Udalryk asked.

“Yes.” Kerrass told him. “Lord Ermion confirmed it.”

“Just so we're clear then.” Jarl Udalryk went on. We're talking about a venture into the Druid's sanctuary to pull out an unwilling man so that we can throw him to the ship for all of our greater goods. Leaving aside the fact that the Druids have enjoyed traditional religious freedoms from general law for a long time, in return for their services of course.”

“That's a big thing to leave aside.” Jarl Donar added. “The neutrality of the Druids is one of our more sacred laws.”

“Maybe. But never before have they harboured a mass-murderer.” Hjalmar put in finishing his drink and pouring himself another. It never ceases to amaze me how much Skelligans can drink.

“Oh come on.” Jarl Ingimund cried. “Mass-murderer? That's a bit...”

“He might be right.” Jarl Donar, mused thoughtfully. “The Skeleton Ship has killed hundreds, if not thousands of people over the centuries that it has been coming through the islands. And that's just directly. How many people have lost their lives to famine and loss of livelihood because of the disruption to their ways of life after the ship has passed. If he was ignorant? I could forgive that. But if he knew? And did nothing? If it was my court being held at a Thing...”

(Freddie's note. A Thing is a gathering of a clan where the Jarl, King or Lord of the area can rule on legal matters. It's generally treated as a kind of festival with a serious purpose. The Lord will sit and anyone can bring matters to their attention and the Lord will judge on the matter. It is risky as the judgement can go either way depending on the lord in question so you have to be sure of your case before you take it to a Thing. The business must be concluded by the end of the Thing as well)

“... Then I would call that murder. I might even forgive him if he came to my hall, explained and asked for help openly. But he didn't, he used subterfuge.”

“And don't think that it's a coincidence that he's hiding with the Druids.” Jarl Holger said. “Lets be fair. If he hid anywhere else, he would be handed over to us without question. He's a man so Freya wouldn't take him. Any shrine of Hemdall would tell him to be a hero and confront the issue for the betterment of his fellow man. It's only the druids that would protect him unquestioningly.”

There was some murmuring to that.

“No.” Hjalmar said. “I don't think that they would do it unquestioningly. Did the other Druids know who and what he was or, rather, what you suspect him to be Witcher?”

“No.” Kerrass told him. “I believe that Lord Ermion was astonished at the request that we remove the Skeleton Ship. I don't think he was against the idea as he certainly didn't try and dissuade us. But I think he was surprised at what Lennox asked of us.”

Cerys nodded.

“Wait, hold on.”Jarl Ingimund's voice came intruded into everyone's thoughts. “You can't seriously be considering this can you? We're all stood or sat here talking around the possibility but we're not seriously entertaining the possibility of acting on this information are we?”

“Tell you what Ingimund.” Hjalmar snarled, itching for a fight, “Why don't you go out to my bridge over the harbour, take all your clothes off and jump down into the freezing water. That way you might actually contribute something to the discussion. Remember that you are here by invitation only and after the accusations made by various people against you, my sister would be well within her rights to have you thrown out.”

“He is the Jarl of clan Tuirseach.” Jarl Udalryk commented unhappily. “He can't be excluded from such matters and the law is on his side.” He turned a withering, one-eyed glare on Jarl Ingimund. “So far.”

“Which means that we can't touch him.” Jarl Donar agreed unhappily.

“I can.” Ciri growled, the raw menace in her voice brought conversation to a halt. “My courts depend on evidence and weight of testimony, not some archaic law about how one person's word is more and better than the next.”

Silence reigned for a moment as everyone, including me, took in the implications of that.

“With all due respect, Imperial Majesty,” Helfdan spoke up quietly from the corner. “While I understand your feelings on the matter, such an action would make you a Tyrant. And I, for one, would fight to stop you.”

Silence fell again as the implications of that crept into everyone's mind.

I looked around the faces. Kerrass was tired and waiting. This kind of political thinking is something that he tries to avoid at all costs so he had taken on an attitude of patience and detachment. I thought I saw Hjalmar looking at Helfdan in surprise and Cerys looking on with approval.

“You are right, Captain.” Ciri said after a deep breath. “I have lost a lot of friends recently and I spoke hastily.” She told the room. “I apologise.”

I noticed that she didn't apologise for the sentiment though. Nor did she take back the statement. All she said was that she had done and said those things a little too fast and in the open.

Besides, if The Empress really wanted a man dead, I supposed that Lord Voorhis was probably quivering with anticipation at the thought of performing his duties and he is the kind of man that will have several people that would carry out such an action should it be so required.

“You want me to make my point.” Jarl Ingimund spoke calmly. “You want me to speak without inflammatory language and to simply explain my thinking. Very well. What is being proposed here is not just one massive breach of tradition, but two.

“The first is that we are talking about the dismissal of the Skeleton Ship. Whether we like it or hate it, it is a massive part of our culture A huge part of our traditions. It's even arguable that the islands would have descended into civil war if it wasn't for the unifying factor of the Skeleton Ship. Clans who can plan around the seasons of Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter had to set things aside to prepare for the chaotic coming of the Skeleton Ship. Men who might otherwise be divided by flag or the colour of their tartan would be forced to work together just to survive. Bonds have been formed in the preparation and survival of the Skeleton Ship. Bonds that have not been broken.

“The Skeleton Ship is an external force that the entirety of the Islands are united against. We are running out of those. We are part of the Nilfgaardian Empire now. The Ice Giants are open to negotiation, as are the Fomori,” He spat. It looked like an automatic gesture, the equivalent of making the sign of the flame to ward off evil. “and now we are talking about removing this one as well. Clan rivalries, blood feuds and whatever else that might be long buried under layers of our just having to survive. What happens when we are no longer being distracted by such things?”

He looked around the room. It was a good argument and somewhat distressing to hear it argued so well by someone I had instinctively disliked.

“I have more.” He went on. “The passage of the Skeleton Ship is almost a spiritual time in the islands. “It is a time of reflection, mourning and contemplation. Especially for those of us who make our living on the water. What will we do when that is stripped away from us? How will we mourn? How will we find our.... our spiritual peace?”

“I had not taken you for a religious man.” Jarl Holger was doing a bad job of hiding his amusement.

“I am a sailor,” Jarl Ingimund's anger returned suddenly. “Same as you. You cannot tell me that you look out over the vast emptiness of the waves and have not felt something move in you. You cannot tell me, when the waves are high and the lightening fills the sky that you do not pray to something.”

“Heh, something moving inside you....” Holger leered. “I had heard that about you but I had never thought it to be...”

“I will rip your dick off and then force it up your...”

“Enough.” Cerys snapped. “Both of you. Insult and provoke each other on your own time and away from my halls if you please.”

Both men backed down.

“You had a second point Jarl Tuirseach.” Cerys prompted.

“I do.” Jarl Ingimund preened a little but it was kept relatively subdued. “To get to the point of getting rid of the Skeleton Ship, which is something we are not sure will work, we must go to the Druids. I have not heard of this Lennox character. But if he lives at the sanctuary then he is either a Druid himself or he is in training to be a Druid. You don't live there unless you are one or the other.

“There is going to be no way that he is going to be a willing participant in all of this. Absolutely no way at all. Who can blame him? You are talking about throwing him back to the cursed ship that he escaped from. Who wouldn't fight against that? So the only way that he is coming out of the sanctuary is by force. The Druids will protect one of their own and who can blame them either? The Witcher here can argue that he just wants to talk to this Lennox character but when Lennox says no, or lies as the Witcher suspects, what happens then? Do you interrogate the Druid? Torture him? Threaten him? This is still a Druid remember.

“The Druids alliance with Skellige is an ancient and storied one. We have little or no magical capability of our own and what protections that we do have from continental magical forces comes from the Druid's sanctuary. Whenever we have asked them for aid, they have rendered that aid. They have protected us in battle, they have fought for us in wars. They have helped us with storms and our ability to sail openly on the oceans without fear of sudden squalls. They have cured the sick and healed the injured. And we are looking at throwing that away?

“Some of what you speak of would be taken up by...” Jarl Donar began, looking unhappy.

“You are going to suggest that the Priestesses of Freya will take up the slack are you not?” Jarl Ingimund asked.

Donar nodded.

“I grant you that the worshippers of Freya are good women. Proud, skilled and powerful. But they are not warlike, nor would I ask them to be. If Cidaris came against us again with half a dozen trained and powerful Mages, would the Priestesses be able to help us fight? They would see to the needs of the injured, certainly. But would they protect us from the lightening and firestorms that those magic users would be able to rain down on us?”

There was some more uncomfortable silence then.

“Cidaris has it's own problems at the moment.” Jarl Throst spoke up. “Something to do with an Imperial army.”

“But you said it yourself.” Jarl Ingimund argued. “You said, “At the moment,” and you are right. Cirdaris will be an Imperial nation soon but how long before the Empire wins, which they will, and installs their client monarch, which they will? And then the other people in Cidaris remember that they hate us and start to launch raids against us again.”

“The Empire would not tolerate such and action.” Ciri argued.

“And I believe you.” Ingimund told her. “But that's no consolation if we're already on fire, is it.”Ciri had nothing to say to that.

“Skellige is feared all over the continent.” Ingimund told us. “And that is because we are a hard people. Hard warriors, hard sailors. Strong men and tough women. And like swords and axes, this is because we are forged in fire. One of those fires is the flame of the Skeleton Ship. Losing that fire would be a mistake.”

An uncomfortable silence sank over the room. I was getting worried.

Jarl Ingimund made his points rather well. At first, shortly after I had met him, I had wondered how this man had managed to become Jarl of so prestigious a clan as clan Tuirseach. I had been predisposed against him after hearing all the suggestions that he was the leader of the traditionalists and that it had been he that had ordered Rymer to attack us. This impression had been reinforced when Hjalmar had told the room who Finnvald had blamed for his attacks on our person. Not helped by the open hostility towards him from men like Hjalmar who I like and respect as well as Jarl Donar who is the elder statesman of the group.

But then he had argued his points really really well. And I was worried that this was going to be it. The decision would be made that there would be no effort to stop the Skeleton Ship which, in turn, meant that I would not be able to find out what Lennox knew.

Or that Kerrass and I would have to find more... extreme ways of getting the information out of the man.

“There is another problem.” Jarl Udalryk spoke up. “Which is the moral one.” His lone eye swept across us all. There was apology in that eye but no shame. “Of all of you, I alone have a unique perspective on the matter of what it's actually like to be cursed. When the Hym (Freddie's note: It's a kind of demon that feeds on despair. See the works of the bard where he wrote up the story of how Jarl Udalryk was freed from the grips of this, frankly terrifying, entity) had me in it's clutches.... I still shiver, to this day, years after I was freed, at what I nearly did to my clan in the grip of that thing.

“The Witcher has come to us and has told us what needs to happen in order to rid us of that scourge,” he turned to Jarl Ingimund, “and it is a scourge. No matter what Ingimund might say.”

“Now hold on....”

“You've had your turn.” Jarl Udalryk growled. He might be a tired man, old before his time but there is still fire in his belly. We felt it that day. “Now it is my turn to speak.”

Jarl Ingimund backed down.

“To rid ourselves of the Skeleton Ship, this cursed man must be thrown to it. Essentially, we must sacrifice him to the thing. Yes, he bears the guilt of all of the lives that the ship has claimed. But what happens next does not reflect on him, it reflects on us. Are we really going to sacrifice a man's life for that purpose? I am not comfortable with that.”

“What if there's no other way?” Jarl Holger asked him. “I'm not arguing with you but what if...”

“Is there another way that this can be done?” Jarl Udalryk asked Kerrass.

“No.” Kerrass replied.

“How do you know that?”

“This has been happening for years, centuries even. And before that it was happening to the Elves and the Vodyanoi. Powerful Sorcerors have lived here as well as priests, Druids and Witchers. If there was another way to get this done, it would have been found by now.”

Jarl Udalryk nodded. “Then there it is. We have learned to live with the Skeleton Ship. It is not pleasant but who ever promised us that life would be pleasant? It is hard, but who ever suggested that life would be easy. The only people that die when the Skeleton Ship comes now, are people that have not taken the proper measures to survive. Stupid people in other words. In which case I cannot weep at the prospect of losing a few drains on our resources.”

“What about the impact to natural resources?” Jarl Throst of Tordarroch asked him.

“What about it?” Jarl Udalryk responded. “As the Witcher says, this has been happening for centuries. There are still fish in the sea and birds in the sky. Crops still grow and livestock survive. We will live on.”

Silence fell again.

“I think that covers most things.” Cerys said. “Both in the arguments for and against. Does anyone have anything left to say?”

“It will be a knock to morale if we don't do this.” Hjalmar was staring at his boots now, having set his drink aside. “We sent the Scribbler out along with the Witcher, the Empress, Helfdan and his crew. Whatever else can be said, they came through impossible odds to get this done. I can't be the only person who thought that it would never happen and that they would never succeed. But they did. Many of them died to bring that news back. Despite everything else, it would shame those men if they died for nothing.”

There was another silence.

“Right.” Cerys said. “I am unsure as to the correct course of action so I'm asking for an advisory vote of the council. One vote each for all attending with a brief... A brief explanation as to the reasons for that decision Jarl Tuirseach.”

Ingimund snorted.

“And then I will make my decision accordingly. The matters discussed during this time of voting will remain private within this room and the crown's vengeance will seek anyone who breaks that seal.” The Queen's voice became regal and formal, “No repercussions will be made due to what is said here. And any who pursue vengeance because of what is said will also feel my wrath.” Cerys finished. “Who would like to go first?”

There was some exchanging of looks between the six men before Jarl Holger stood forward. “Normally I would make some kind of point about Clan Dimun taking the lead, about how we would be the first to the battlefield and the last off it. I would say that this fight has always been ours. But that is not true in this. The first people in this fight were Captain Helfdan and his crew. Including the Witcher, the Scribbler and the Empress in that number. They were the ones that went out to seek an end to the terror of the Skeleton Ship and it shames me and mine that I did not do the same. All of them will always have my friendship and respect because of that.

“I wanted to say that here and in front of people where it can be witnessed.”

He bowed to Helfdan who returned the bow.

“And if people want to talk about that outside of this room.” Jarl Holger grinned slyly. “Then they can do so freely. I look forward to seeing the results.

“My vote,” He went on. “Is that the Skeleton Ship should be destroyed, dismissed, curse lifted or however the fuck this thing is going to be done and here is why. Faroe, the island of my ancestors is a small island, mostly made out of rocks. In order for my clan, my people, to survive we must be raiders. We have a reputation as killers, thieves and pirates. This is true, but that is because, without doing those things, without resorting to those actions. Our children would have died a long time ago.

“Every time the Skeleton Ship appears on the horizon my people know that they are in for a hard year. They cannot leave port. They must stop their enterprises and return home. Our ships must be taken out of the water and preserved at all costs as the clan will not survive without them. Our herds must be slaughtered as we have nowhere to keep them. The meat salted and preserved. Crops? We have no crops. All because we cannot dare risk when the Skeleton Ship is in the sea. I myself carry the scars of cutting things too close in an effort to bring things back to the clan and suffering the cold.

“I will not claim that we will be hit the hardest by the passage. But we are hit hard. For my clan and for the good of Skellige as a whole, the Skeleton Ship must end.”

He stepped back.

“Are you saying that you will stop your raiding if the Skeleton Ship is removed?” Jarl Donar asked with gentle humour.

“No.” Jarl Holger laughed as he admitted this. “Did you not hear me describe my island?”

We laughed. As I say, I liked Lord Holger. A hard and brutal man who has earned his reputation. But I liked him.

“I mean, I love the place.” He went on. “And I will fight any man that claims that it isn't the most beautiful island in Skellige. But you try living on it.”

He peered around at us with a comical look of anxiety. “Is anyone going to try and tell me that my island isn't beautiful?”

We all made suitable negative gestures and Jarl Holger sighed in disappointment.

The room had needed the levity and the lighter atmosphere was welcome.

Lord Udalryk looked as though he had bitten into a lemon and had just opened his mouth to speak when they young Lord of Clan Tordarroch started to speak.

“Well I have to vote for the getting rid of the Skeleton Ship. I too would like to add my words of gratitude to the feats performed by those people here present on the path towards the.... the banishment of the Skeleton Ship. I might question their methods and I will admit to being sceptical about the new found truce with the Ice Giants while, at the same time, acknowledging the sacrifice of one of Helfdan's warriors to the making of that truce.

“But where Jarl Holger tempered his acceptance of the hardships his clan have faced, my clan are on the edge of extinction. This visit of the Skeleton Ship has taken us to the very brink of death. We barely survived the last one and now it has happened again... Only time will tell the results of this passage and it might be that this intervention is too late. We don't live on Ard Skellig or An Skellig. We don't live in Spikeroog or Hindersfjall. We live on Undvik. A place where the ice giants have only retreated recently. The coldest island with the highest mountains. We live on the edge of the world and the precipice tumbles into ice. We are clinging on by our fingernails and we might not hold on.”

“Then that is your weakness.” Jarl Ingimund snapped, his face flushed with anger. “I've said it before and I'll say it again. Clan Tordarroch died when the ice giant came and they do not deserve their...”

Jarls Donar and Udalryk intercepted the Young Jarl of Clan Tordarroch as he marched across the room to murder the Jarl of Clan Tuirseach. I'm not sure they would have succeeded if Queen Cerys had not intervened.

“I said enough.” She snapped and her temper was icy cold. “Jarl Tuirseach, your efforts to provoke the others will not be accepted as a distraction from what you are accused of. Nor will it intimidate those you disagree with. You spoke well and persuasively, temper tantrums at those who disagree with you and who are weaker than you, will not be accepted in my court. Do you understand?”

Jarl Ingimund was subdued and chastised although I noticed that he didn't really answer.

“Jarl Tordarroch.” Cerys went on. “Although we understand your rage you will keep your temper under control or you will be ejected and Clan Tordarroch will not have a say in the matters to come. Have I made myself clear?”

Jarl Throst took a deep breath and nodded.

“You don't have to bristle at every insult to prove that you are a man lad.” Jarl Donar told him gently.

“Are you finished?” Cerys asked Jarl Throst. Still firm and regal but a little gentler.

“No. I do have one thing to say.” He took another calming breath. “As for the matter of the Druids. Where were they when the Ice Giants attacked? Where were they when we needed help? Where were they? They gave us no warning, no insight and no help. They have enjoyed their privileged status for too long as it is.”He was rattled and I wondered if that were the point of Ingimund's outburst and insults.

“So your vote is for the destruction of the Skeleton Ship?” Ciri prompted.

“It is.” He said, a little more formally.

There was another pause as people took stock. Two votes for the removal of the Skeleton Ship.

“It breaks my heart.” Udalryk began slowly. “It actively breaks my heart to do this.”

He took a deep breath and moved over to the liquor tray.

“My task would be much easier if the Queen herself had shown me what she wanted. What she believes to be the correct course of action...

“By the way, it should be said that I also agree that Helfdan has done an outstanding job and should be lauded and rewarded for the impossible thing that he and his people have managed to achieve.”

He carefully poured himself a drink before turning back to the room and leaning against the table, staring into the amber liquid.

“As, like Helfdan, I am the Queen's man for I owe her everything. That is because I have a perspective that none of you share. The other people, here assembled that are having a say in the way that this will all turn out, are thinking of their people, their lands, the prestige of themselves and their clans. Dare I say that some people are doing their best to preserve a political stance or personal power.”

There was some uneasy shifting of weight.

“But at the end of the day, no-one else has lived under the power of a curse. I have and I pray to the Gods, every day, in gratitude that I was saved from it. I shudder to think what would have happened to Clan Brokvar if the curse had continued. We are already looked down upon for our ancient refusal to take part in a hopeless fight and I was in the process of driving our clan into the ground. I will admit it. That curse robbed me of my honour and my self.

“I am heartened to find that Sigurd the Fury, formerly of my clan, has found a happy ending that isn't at the end of a spear. But he should have been my man and the reason he is not is because I, and the people that I surrounded myself with, drove him away.

“So I know what it's like to live under the shadow of a curse and I will not. I will not condemn the man Lennox for his fear. His terror. He escaped that fate once and I would... Gods but I have no idea what I would do....

“If someone came to me and said “The entire world will die in flame if you don't allow the demon to take possession of your soul again.” Then I would struggle with that choice. My life? Fine. I would gladly give my life in any cause that is required. The traditional saying of “If the Queen wants my life she has only to ask for it,” has never been truer than it is when it comes out of my mouth. I would die for everyone in this room. I would die for my clan, for Skellige and for the world. But to go back to that time, that place and to place myself in that darkness again?”

He raised his gaze to look at us. Tears fell freely from his single remaining eye.

“I have one nightmare.” He whispered. “Over and over again I dream that I am still in the thing's thrall.” He finished his drink and put the cup back on the tray carefully.

“I work hard, every day to try and redeem myself and redeem the clan. I have removed those treacherous swine who have sought to take advantage of my weaknesses and have replaced them with those men who have the courage to tell me when I am wrong. My clan is slowly rebuilding itself and once again, we begin to walk proudly in the eyes of others. Even when men look down upon us for ancient transgressions.

“So I cannot do this. I cannot agree to this. I will not condemn a man to a fate like that. Even if it is his life against ours.”

There was a pause. “His lack of truth, his keeping it all from us has condemned thousands...” Jarl Holger began quietly. Black hearted he might be but he looked uncomfortable in the face of Udalryk's pain.

“That reflects badly on him.” Udalryk said. “But condemning him to worse than death, reflects badly on us. My vote stands. We cannot do this.”

“Well done.”Jarl Ingimund said into the resulting silence. “And well said. Morally, it is the correct...”

“Shut up Ingimund.” Udalryk's anger was as harsh and unyielding as his fear and grief. “It breaks my heart that I must side with you. And you are not one to take the moral high ground. You have lost that right. I believe your accusers. Finnvald's actions are reprehensible but it shames you to deny and turn your back on Rymer. I believe him and you have thrown him aside in favour of your own ambition. You disgust me.”

“I will not...”

“I swear to Hemdall.” Jarl Donar snarled, showing us the man that he will have been in his youth. “That the next time someone cheapens this solemn council by boasting and hurling insults.... Shame on all of you. The Queen asked for our advice. We should give it to her, not stoop to such petty actions.”

His rage washed over us like a wave before receding.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am getting too old for this. I no longer believe that it will be very long before I must take my dagger and find a bear to hunt.”

(Freddie's note: There is a tradition among Skelligan people that when a person is getting old or they are beginning to lose their faculties they go into the woods, armed with a knife in order to “hunt a bear”. This is nearly always fatal and that is the point. I guess that it's something to do with not wanting to drag on the rest of their society and use up resources that might be better used elsewhere. I suppose that it comes from a time when survival was less certain in the islands and the choice between who gets to eat the last bite of bread was a matter of who lives and who dies.

In modern Skellige it seems to be more of a way to gently retire for Jarls and Lords when they are no longer able to live up to their full capacity. When they decide that other people, their heirs for example, can do the job better than they can.

You might think that graceful retirement is an estate out in the country, or sitting on a bench and watching the world go by somewhere outside with a cup of ale and pipe of tobacco. Skelligans prefer to go down swinging.)

“But I am not too old for this just yet.” The growl came from somewhere deep within Jarl Donar's soul.

“There is nothing right about what is happening here.” He said. “Nothing right at all. It is not right that the Druids have kept this person. Whether or not they knew that this person was who they were and what they were doing is immaterial. If they didn't know then that is negligent. If they did, then they are criminal and I honestly believe that they should be scourged from the islands like the plague that they will have proven themselves to be.”

“Wow,” I muttered.

“But let us continue with what is wrong here.” There was still a growl in the depths of the throat of the old man. It's always interesting, some people are always described as being slow to anger but when the anger begins to tip over then it can be spectacular. Many people are described as this but it's rare that you actually get to sit and see it happen.

“Let us talk about the brave men and one woman who were sent out to find information.” He started to stalk about the room. “They weren't sent to do anything, they were sent to find information so that we, we,” he made a circling gesture with his hands. “So that we could make an informed decision.”

He glared at everyone in the room and I noticed that only Cerys could meet his gaze.

“We sent them out on a Quest that no-one else has ever succeeded in the attempt. When they don't come back we instantly, instantly believe the worst of them. Not that the worst has happened, but the worst of them. The worst of the sailors, the worst of the Captain and the worst of the people that were in the ship with him and we instantly thought the worst of them. What does that say about us?

“There is nothing good here. Nothing good at all. I was touched by what just happened in the hall. I was touched and moved by what Hjalmar said. I was touched and moved by the way that he took control of his court back. I am enough of a Skelligan to have enjoyed the way that he did that, even-handedly and with the pursuit of facts in the most dramatic way possible. I admire that he took the time to acknowledge his own faults and failings while taking the time to acknowledge the qualities of the formerly accused. I respected that. But I notice that it took until the man was provably returned before Hjalmar had the balls to stand in front of people and say those things in Helfdan's defence.

“A fallen hero. We didn't check, we just assumed because it was easy, the path of least resistance. We just assumed that Helfdan, a man who has frequently proven that he is not the man that Finnvald says he was. But we all fell for it. Including me.

“Nothing about this is good and we should all be ashamed. All of us. Including me. Especially me.”

Jarl Donar looked around the room.

“You all know me. I'm a traditionalist and in many of the things that I believe. In many of the ways that I think, I agree with Ingimund.”

“Jarl Ingimund.” The man himself corrected.

You know that moment when violence is about to kick off and everyone kind of backs away from the situation. It had happened in the hall when Helfdan had announced his presence so dramatically. It happened again here.

“I will call you Jarl when I feel that you have earned the title. Ingimund.” Donar snarled.

The two older men glared at each other across the room.

“I am a traditional man.” Jarl Donar said. “I too think it would be a terrible shame if we lost the traditions of the Skeleton Ship. But murdering our people? Leaving them behind to die at the hands of Ice Giants? Sending our own warriors, or hiring mercenaries, to ambush our own people, to ambush some of our best people. That is ridiculous. That is insulting. It insults me personally as a Jarl, It insults me as a Skelligan and it insults me as a man.

“It's a Ghost Ship. It's a curse on these islands. It's been responsible for so much death and destruction. We have adapted, yes. We have taken it into our culture and adapted to it. The traditions are part of us now. The ship is not. The removal of the ship is not part of it and can only lead to good. People will no longer die. Men like Jarl Holger and Jarl Throst will be able to plan around the seasons. People like me will be able to enjoy our retirement and men like Helfdan. Like Lord Helfdan will be able to do his business of serving his Jarl, his Queen and his people without fear of being sent out into the wilds on a wild goose chase to perform an impossible task that no-one has ever succeeded in or survived. Then find a way to survive.

“The ship has to go. The ship has to be removed and then we can take some time to discuss how we are going to maintain our traditions and our national pride. We can do that later.”

There was some more silence. It was the silence of a group of school children who have just had their ass kicked by a tutor. I was more grateful than I can easily articulate that Jarl Donar wasn't angry with me.

“You all know my opinions on the matter.” Jarl Ingimund said. “Jarl Donar, I think you are being incredibly naïve. Of course our culture will change and it will change for the worse. We will become weak and we will become soft. “Jarl Holger. Your are known as a warrior and a fighter. Yes, also a thief, liar and pirate.”

Holger shrugged and nodded his admittance of the point.

“Can you honestly tell me that people would flee from you if you weren't forced to fight as hard as you do for ever. Scrap. Of Cargo. That you take. And as for you Jarl Throst.... ”

“Their votes have already been cast Jarl Tuirseach.” Queen Cerys was clearly no longer taking any shit. “You are not going to change their minds about any of this. So all you are doing is trying to beat them down and establish your superiority over them.” She paused. “If you wanted to argue your point further and attempt to change minds then you should have spoken earlier. Instead, you are trying to establish things so that you can tell everyone that you fought for traditional values and about how others refused to listen to you. I will not stand for that. The council of Jarls will make their vote and then I will make my decision based on that. Then, no matter what I decide, I expect nothing but full-throated support for what I choose, whatever that choice may be. Do I make myself clear?”

No-one said anything.

“Cast your vote Jarl Tuirseach.” Cerys said quietly and oh so very firmly.

Ingimund stared at the floor. “The Skeleton Ship stays where it is. The Druid's sanctuary remains sacrosanct. That is my vote.”

I didn't want to listen to the last vote. I didn't want to listen to Hjalmar speak. I suddenly had the worst feeling. The count was at three votes to two. Three votes for Kerrass to dismiss the Skeleton Ship and two votes against and I still had no idea what Cerys was going to decide to do.

“So it's down to me.” Hjalmar began. “I wish it wasn't. Over and over again I am remembering what Father used to tell us both. You and me Cerys, you remember? Over and over again he would tell us that the hardest part about being Jarl and about being a ruler. Was the moment when you must make the choice between what is the right thing to do as a Jarl and what I want to do as a man.

“Jarl Donar's point is well made and I am well chastised. When all of this is over I shall sit with Lord Helfdan and we shall discuss the reparations that can be made to him for the insults that have been thrown at his feet. My neutrality was a choice...”

“My Lord...” Helfdan began speaking up from the corner. “You are my Jarl and my honour is your honour. You owe me nothing.”

Hjalmar laughed, Donar and Udalryk laughed with him. Even Throst smirked.

“Are you sure you won't come and sail for me Captain Helfdan?” Holger whined wistfully. “You would make me so rich.”

Helfdan looked confused. “My Lord I am flattered but my oath...”

“I was teasing Lord Helfdan.”

“As I was saying, before my vassal interrupted so rudely.” Hjalmar continued before he caught sight of Helfdan's troubled expression. “I am also teasing you Helfdan.”

Helfdan nodded his acknowledgement of this.

“But the point was well made. My neutrality was a choice and a badly made one at that. I will make my gratitude to Lord Helfdan plain and later, I will discuss with my fellows as to what would be appropriate.”

His eyes glinted slyly.

“But I return to my point. As a man, the decision is easy. I am disgusted that this man Lennox has kept this from us for so long. I am beside myself that the Druids have hidden him. I am ashamed that this riddle has gone unanswered for as long as it has, when the answer appears so simple now that it is laid out before us. I weep for the dead and the destroyed and those people that have lost their lives and their livelihoods. Obviously the ship must be destroyed and dismissed.

“But.

“As the Jarl I must represent my people. It is true that my clan has many advantages. Our island is the biggest which means that the interior is most sheltered from the wrath of the Skeleton Ship. Our harbour is the safest. I have more forests with which to rebuild lost fleets and buildings. More pasture for animals. And when the Skeleton Ship seeks it's final passage, it comes through my harbour. And all the people that come to see the passage of the Skeleton Ship come to my capital to stay in my inn and drink my ale and trade in my market place. My people grow rich off the Skeleton Ship and when the Skeleton Ship passes, we can easily buy or raid enough to see us through the worst of the results of the passage from the continent.

“As a man. As a Captain and as a warrior. I would not hesitate to decide the former. But as the Jarl of Clan An Craite. I must vote that the Skeleton Ship stays. Although the Druids had better believe that I will be examining the laws governing their behaviour and I will be doing so carefully.”

He looked his sister in the eyes. “I am sorry Cerys. The ultimate decision must rest with you. As I suspect, you knew it would.”

My head spun.

Cerys turned away and leant on her desk, head bowed.

“Your Majesty.” Jarl Ingimund began. “You have to think...”

“I have listened to as much as I'm going to listen to on the subject.” Cerys snapped. There wasn't much force behind it though. My guess that she was tired and just wanted to the day to be over. “Witcher, you and your group stay behind please. The rest of you can get the fuck out. Not you Hjalmar.”

Jarl Holger was the first to stand up. He finished his drink and stretched. “Just so long as we're being clear.” He said to no-one in particular. “I'm glad I'm not the King.” He clapped Hjalmar on the shoulder as he moved towards the door.

Jarl Udalryk followed him looking unhappy.

“Your Makesty, you have an opportunity here.” Jarl Ingimund tried again. “You have an opportunity to be a leader in matters...”

“The Queen has spoken Jarl Tuirseach.” Hjalmar told him formally. “Now leave or I will take great delight in throwing you out.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“I would.” Ciri stood.

“So would I,” Kerrass joined her.

I said nothing, rather thinking that my efforts would be a little redundant.

Hjalmar loomed over Ingimund. “Try me, Jarl Ingimund. This is my castle and until my sister chooses otherwise, it is the Queen's seat, meaning that her safety and comfort is my responsibility. And at the moment, I would take great delight in showing her how seriously I take my duties.”

Ingimund matched gazes with Hjalmar before backing down. “If only because it would start a civil war and no-one wants that.” He said, trying to maintain the hight ground.

Jarl Throst was halfway out the door with Jarl Donar at his elbow when Cerys, who was moving round her desk to sit down called out. “Donar? you stay too please.”

“Why him?” Ingimund protested again. I felt an overwhelming desire to punch him in the throat. “Why him and not me? My clan is older and has the more...”

“You're a clever man.” Jarl Donar told him. “And it astonishes me how often you choose to be wilfully stupid. She wants me. Not the Jarl of Heymaey. Have you not listened to her or learned the way she speaks. Or is it that you don't care enough to learn the habits of your monarch. You can't be bothered to show her the respect that she has earned, is that it?”

Jarl Ingimund had no answer to that.

“So I shall assume that you are becoming hard of hearing in your old age,” Donar went on. “And remind you of the Queen's earlier orders. Get the fuck out.”

Ingimund fled with as much dignity as he could manage. Donar followed him and shut the door behind him.Silence descended for a long moment as we sat, alone with our thoughts.

The reverie was abruptly broken when Cerys pushed her chair back and climbed to her feet, moving over to where the drinks were. “Well this has torn it hasn't it.” She said to no-one in particular. “Could someone please remind me why I wanted to be Queen?”

“Because you thought you could do a better job than the rest of us.” Hjalmar told her with a grin. “You were right too. I wouldn't want to make these decisions. I wanted to fight Nilfgaard but other than that, I wanted to have sex with beautiful women, eat good food, drink fine ale and enjoy some quality violence. I was also in it for the form of the thing really. I wanted it but I wouldn't have been a front runner if it wasn't for the massacre.”

Jarl Donar was chuckling. “There were much worse candidates for the throne than you Hjalmar. Much worse. Can you imagine the mess we would be in if the son of the Madman was on the throne. In and of himself, he was a good man but his father would really have been the King.”

Hjalmar shuddered.

“Anyone else for a drink?” Cerys asked, as she poured her second.

This time I took a drink.

“So what do I do?” Cerys asked us all.

Jarl Donar sighed. “I know I've said it before but it's worth saying again. We need another major clan to replace Clan Drummond. What happened to them was harsh, it has happened before when a Jarl has risen in foolish rebellion and the Madman did so at the worst possible time what with the Nilfgaard question and the Wraiths of Morhogg attacking. But it means that we have an even number of Jarls when the Queen needs advice like this. We need another Clan to be elevated so that there can be another person on this council and such deadlocks become impossible.”

“And I remind you just how risky that would be.” Hjalmar countered. “And I'm not talking as Jarl here. Jarl me would complain about the loss of land that would have to be given over to the new clan, especially as the new clan is technically to replace Clan Drummond. But Hjalmar the man would point out. Who do you choose? A traditionalist? A Progressive? Who would the other Jarls accept? Would they all form an alliance to just squash the new man?”

“Or woman?” Ciri interjected.

“Fair point. But that choice would also come with repercussions.” Hjalmar didn't pause. “But I don't think that this is the biggest problem that we face at the moment. Ingimund is a cancer that needs to be removed. He's far too good at what he does and even now, he's out in the hall working to counter the fact that Finnvald has levelled accusations at him, as well as telling people how fervently he argued for the preservations of our oldest traditions.”

“You have guarded Finnvald carefully haven't you?.” Donar asked. “Assassins have been used before and as we have seen with what happened with Helfdan. Dead men can't defend themselves.”

“Oh, he's carefully hidden.” Hjalmar said. “Down in the town. He will be discomforted enough, but safe enough, guarded by men I trust.”

“Which men? Ingimund is a rich man and all men have their price.”

“I got Gudavsson to take care of it.” Hjalmar sniffed.

“I've had some thoughts about a seventh clan to replace Drummond.” Cerys told the room, sitting back down at her desk. She had brought the Whisky bottle with her. “It is a point well made. We shall hold trials, games and tests after the Skeleton Ship passes and we're all waiting for the thaw.”

“Here?” Hjalmar asked

“Why not?”

“There are a lot of people elsewhere on the islands that will want to take part in that.” Jarl Donar warned.” Clan An Craite will be more highly represented than others. That will sew resentment.”

“Maybe.” Ciri admitted. “But Clan An Craite is also the biggest clan and currently most powerful. More than one lord has complained about finding that to be threatening.”

“Which Lords?” I couldn't tell if Hjalmar was amused or offended.

“So a break up of Clan An Craite with the right choice of Jarl would make matters easier.” Cerys ignored him, nodding in agreement with Ciri. “Also, Kaer Trolde has more representatives of the other clans than ever at the moment given the summons that I sent out beforehand. The clans are well represented and there should be a good field of candidates. Besides, decisions are made by those that show up.”

“You should consider who you want in advance.” Donar told her. “It's underhanded but there are ways that you could tailor the tests so that you get the kind of Jarl that you want. After all, our first duty is to serve the crown”

“I'm not too worried,” Cerys told him. “I would get the final choice anyway. If only so I don't have to listen to another round of all the Jarls yelling at each other.”

Jarl Donar smiled while Hjalmar and Ciri chuckled.

“As for Ingimund.” Cerys said. “Getting rid of him is easy. After his recent displays and the word of Rymer and Finnvald, there are any number of ways it could be done. Champions battle, summary judgement, legal challenge, exile, the problem is not what to do with him but what to do afterwards. He's a pain in my ass but I can't destroy another clan so soon after my Father destroyed Clan Drummond. And Clan Tuirseach is no Clan Drummond. There are many fine men and women that serve Ingimund. But we risk turning him into a martyr. So what do we do with Clan Tuirseach after that? They need a Jarl after all.”

Donar and Hjalmar looked at each other for a long moment. I exchanged glances with Ciri who was interested but also kind of tired of the entire affair.

“If I may.” Helfdan spoke up from the corner of the room. It would seem that he shares the same ability with Kerrass. That ability would be being able to just fade from people's awareness until he seems to almost vanish and everyone has forgotten about them. I certainly had and from the way that Donar and Hjalmar started, they had forgotten about him too. I didn't think that Cerys had forgotten though.

He was still stood in the same corner that he had been previously. He was tugging at and rubbing his right ear lobe. It was an odd habit, something that I hadn't seen him do before.

“If I may,” he said again when he realised that he had everyone's attention. “The answer is obvious. Recall Svanrige from exile. He is of the original line and his clan would follow him. You didn't exile him your Majesty, the Jarls did before you were crowned so it's not weakening your own position and it shows that you are independent of the Jarls council. It shows that you are not a figurehead or a puppet of all the older men.”

Hjalmar and Donar listened to this before looking at each other. Donar started to chuckle.

“Fuck me sideways.” Hjalmar grinned.

“It's not a bad answer.” Donar said. “Svanrige is a man of honour. He would have to be, to point out his mother's disgrace and actions. It would have been all to easy to stay silent in that council of Jarls and for his mother to be preserved and for himself to take the throne.”

“So he would abide by what we need him to abide by.” Hjalmar said. “Also, it rights one of the injustices of that time. I know why he had to be exiled as tradition and law demanded it. Even he agreed that it had to be done, but it still seemed harsh when it was him that pointed out his mother's crimes.”

Cerys listened, thought for a moment and then nodded. “Done then. We will save Jarl Ingimund's destruction for during the thaw and announce Svanrige's recall at the same time. How will Clan Tuirseach take it?”

“I think that they will be pleased.” Donar told her. “The return of the son of the last King will be a point of prestige for them and him. Svanrige will know that his return is on your sufferance and although Clan Tuirseach are traditionalists at heart. There's enough of them that wanted reform to go along with things.”

“Also,” Hjalmar put in. “They will certainly not have enjoyed how fast Ingimund used and discarded Captain Rymer. They will all be wondering, the next time Ingimund sends them out, “If this goes wrong, will I be used as a scapegoat?” and not without reason either.”

Cerys nodded, leaning back in her chair.

“This is all well and good.” She said to the ceiling. “But this doesn't help with what I need to decide now.”

“No it doesn't.” Donar admitted.

Another silence fell.

One of the logs in the hearth split and cracked. Donar rose to his feet and added a few more logs to the blaze.

“Let me go and get this Lennox that Kerrass talks about.” Hjalmar said suddenly. “Let me go. I know what I said in the council as the Jarl of Clan An Craite and it was the right decision as the Jarl of the clan. But I feel the need to bathe after making it. So I will go. I've got a hundred armed men just lazing around. I will take fifty men. The Witcher, the Scribbler and I don't think we can convince The Empress to stay behind.”

“Just try and stop me.” Ciri muttered darkly.

“Which means that we get a not insignificant number of the Imperial Guard coming with us and those boys are no slouches. Helfdan and his survivors can come to. He needs to send messengers on to his village anyway to let them know that he survived so we would have to travel together. I will take fifty men, the guard and Helfdan's crew and if the druids, or traditionalists or even the mercenaries that Ingimund might be hiring to defend the place, try to stop us then we'll cut a swathe through them. It's been ages since I've had a good fight.”

“What about the druids?” Donar asked.

“What about them?” Hjalmar was energised by his subject. “We'll be on the business of the Queen. They will step aside or they're sewing sedition against the crown. Also, are you honestly telling me that Ermion isn't going to be furious about this? There might be laws and such things but the instant that Ciri steps forward and says “Hello Uncle Mousesack. Turns out I'm not dead despite the manipulations of others and the scum-fuck that you are protecting is responsible for the deaths of hundreds. If not thousands. You wanna listen to what he has to say?” Are you honestly telling me that Lord Ermion is going to say no to that?”

“He might not have a choice.” Donar was visibly struggling to play demon's advocate.

Cerys was leaning on her desk. Head bowed again.

“Ermion is in charge. No-one is going to dare go against him if his temper is up.” Hjalmar countered.

“It's not an easy decision.” Ciri rose to her feet and spoke to Cerys. “And I am not unbiased in this matter. Too many people have died. Too much blood has been spilled to let this pass now. You have a chance to end this. You cannot change the past but you can stop...”

Cerys held her hand up to stop the flow of words.

“Witcher?” The Queen said.

Kerrass climbed to his feet. “Majesty?”

“Do it. Go get him.”