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Geralt of Rivia currently resides in a small city, having completed a job which brought him good coin and time to rest. On the last day of his 'holiday', the townspeople run together on the main street. They watch a parade of some sort. Soldiers with banners bearing the crest of a noble house ride in the direction of the city gates. Geralt hears whispers - the lord's daughter is to be married to the prince of a northern country. A long travel lays before the lady as they are far in the south here. Somehow curious, the Witcher waits for the carriage to get a glimpse of said noble lady. Soon, he spots the carriage, but his attention is claimed by a young woman on a fine steed who rides in front of the carriage and is flanked by two knights in full armor and on white horses – how cliché. Said woman is beautiful, smiling gracefully at the crowd and waving to children here and there. The people seem to know her, cheering and clapping and wishing her well. To Geralt, she certainly seems like a noble. Question is, why isn't she traveling in the carriage? Who is she? His question is answered by a group of women close to him who are chatting animatedly.
"She's so lucky to marry a prince. One day she'll be queen!" one says enthusiastically.
"I heard he's a handsome young man. And since the engagement, he wins every combat in her honour," another tells them and presses a hand to her heart.
"Yes, and he personally came to ask for her hand because he wanted to get to know his future wife before... Can you believe that?" a third says. She seems younger than the others, not eighteen yet.
"And how could he not fall in love with our lady? She's the most beautiful woman known these days," the second one adds dramatically. Geralt rolls his eyes but keeps listening in to the conversation.
"Oh, how romantic," the first woman sighs dreamily and continues,
"Did you hear..." Now Geralt ceases to listen. The young noble draws closer to the part of the street where he is standing. She is clad in a green gown with golden embroidery and wears a dark cloak. It is thin, she will be freezing up in the north. However, it will be some time until the party reaches those parts of the world. For now, the green lets her smooth skin glow. It is of a slight brown, common for people from southern lands. Her hair cascades down her shoulders and back in waves, it has the colour of honey and shimmers in the sunlight. He notes her rosy lips still smiling. As she nears, she waves again, and her eyes sweep over the crowd. As they fall on him, she is still smiling but Geralt notices a sadness flash in her eyes, dark blue eyes that seem as deep as the ocean. He can't look away, so he stares at her, awestruck. Finally, her gaze breaks away from him, and without that smile directed at him the world seems colder than before.
"Oh, may the Lord watch over the lady," he hears someone mumble. The Witcher turns his head to find a woman standing next to him, her back is rounded, and she keeps upright with the help of a wooden staff. Her white hair is pulled back and disappears under a light cape. She notices his gaze and looks him over, recognition flickering in her eyes.
"You know that the paths in the north are dangerous," she speaks as if they were having an ordinary conversation,
"Our lady is a flower many desire."
This woman was the governess of the lady for long years, the now young adult keeps visiting her. But Geralt doesn't need to know that. The governess is now rich in years, and she wishes the best for her former protegee. She wants to make sure of her safety and a Witcher would be perfectly able to protect the lady on her way. Wherever it may lead her. The aged woman isn't sure that this northern prince and the life as queen will suit her girl, this doesn't seem like her destiny.
"Who is she?" Geralt must know, at least her name, as he will never forget her face.
"Her name's Lorelay of House Remidia," the woman tells him and turns back to the caravan.
"May the lord watch over her, may she be kept safe," she repeats. Geralt follows her example and looks up to watch the Lady Lorelay reach the city's main gate. He didn't yet grasp that the elder woman's last words were directed at him, meant for him to take on the challenge. He will. As he looks back to the woman, she is gone.
"Hm," Geralt grumbles, returning to the inn he is staying at.
~*~
The next day the Witcher, too, leaves the city. He intends to find another monster, another job. The usual. On the back of his loyal horse, Roach, his way leads him north. Just like the lady and her knights the day before. They can't have gotten far with the carriage and the luggage. It is easy for him to make out the tracks they left. He can't cease to wonder why the Lady Lorelay seemed so sad. He doesn't know much about the matter but isn't one supposed to be happy for an upcoming wedding?
It doesn't take long until he spots the caravan in the distance. In a few days' time, they will reach the end of the wide land and enter a large forest. Then, they won't encounter any village or city until they leave the woods. But that will take another few days, probably a week even as they will be slow. Beyond the forest, the border to their destination country isn't far. And then, the lady's destiny awaits. How wrong he is about that, though.
