Pirates weren’t anything new to Geralt. He knew a fair amount of them back home. Though this place they were in now didn’t look like one that he recognized, he was confident that he would find his bearings quickly. Every village and town were essentially built the same. And ports were typically some of the seediest areas.
Tortuga, he heard a man passing by mention. The witcher’s nose crinkled at the heavy smell of piss-poor ale that came off the man. No, definitely not a place he’d been before but where there were taverns and cheap ale, a good time could be had.
He laughed at the idea of Jaskier’s feathered-cap. “We would have to hold onto his feet to keep him from flying away.” If only it would be so easy to find something for the bard. But Jaskier was such a curious sort and fascinated by things most people would consider mundane or crude. Or dangerous. Present company included. Yen, however, would prove to be the toughest to look for. He had a feeling that as long as Ciri picked it, Yennefer would be pleased.
In her own way.
“I doubt we’ll find as good a blacksmith here in this pirate hovel as we could back in Skellige or Novigrad. But-“ oh Ciri was already on her way towards the bustling town. Geralt used his long legs to catch up. His own silver sword hung on his hip in a makeshift sheath. It was far too heavy for any normal man to carry it so he wasn’t worried about any thieves coming to try and take it off him. He usually liked to leave it in Ciri’s hands when he wasn’t around to keep an eye on trouble. Soon, though and with Stark’s help hopefully, she would keep it with her always.
“New leather would be nice,” he agreed as he matched her stride, the both of them walking into the town with both purpose and a nose for something new. “What sort of weapons do you prefer? Daggers? A mace?”