"Today, I meant to invite you all for hot pot—oops, I actually brought you here to play cards. Gwent is a local gem, and we simply can't pass up the chance for a game. "

  "Let's chat about the world's future and our hunting prospects while we play."

  The five Witchers settled cross-legged in a circle and retrieved their card decks from their packs.

  Zelin, as usual, brought out his Northern Realms Gwent deck, his trusted tool for earning coin. Geralt had the same deck.

  Letho opted for a Nilfgaardian Empire card deck. George held the Eredin: King of the Wild Hunt card, revealing his choice of a monster - themed deck.

  Gerd's deck, however, took Zelin by surprise. This burly northerner was using the Scoia'tael Gwent deck, a choice deeply loathed by those in the northern realms.

  "Oh~ I'm dead - set on winning all your best cards." George, Zelin's fellow Griffin School Witcher, smacked his lips and drew ten basic cards.

  His furrowed brow told the tale of his less - than - lucky draw.

  "Here's a story. I have a friend in the Free City of Novigrad. He got in deep with a local gang boss over some business troubles, so he hired me......."

  "Did he hire you to off that gang boss? Now that's interesting," Letho from the School of Viper asked icily, laying down an Impera Brigade card as he spoke.

  Letho embodied the essence of his school. Muscular and imposing, a long scar ran from his left eye across his bald head, a battle - worn testament.

  His calm eyes constantly scanned for weaknesses, much like a viper coiled in the shadows, waiting to strike. No one underestimated his power when he unleashed his fury.

  "When did the School of Griffin start acting like the School of Cat? Have I been out of the loop?"

  "Definitely not. I'm no crazy killer from the School of Cat," George grumbled, clearly disgusted.

  The School of Cat, as Letho mentioned, was a far cry from the other Witcher schools.

  They had devolved into a band of mercenary assassins, taking contracts to kill for money across the land.

  Ironically, this deviation from the Witcher creed had made them more prosperous, as their actions aligned with the interests of the noble lords.

  "My friend just needed me to guard him at an auction. He's banking on the Gwent business to clear his debts. You know how it is— a rare Gwent card can fetch a fortune at auction. He splurged on several Scoia'tael cards, almost emptying his pockets."

  "Your friend's playing a dangerous game," Gerd from the School of Bear commented, placing an Elven Skirmisher card on the makeshift playing field and shuffling his hand repeatedly.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "I heard about Count Vichett in the southern empire. He went bankrupt, and his daughter had him locked up in the dungeon to keep him away from his Gwent deck— it's infamous in Nilfgaardian noble circles. "

  "The poor fellow's still wailing in his cell, dreaming of winning back his fortune, but I bet he'll end up losing everything, maybe even his family's valuables."

  "Looks like I need to keep Yennefer away from Gwent. I don't have many clothes to spare," Geralt chuckled. For someone Zelin thought had a perpetually stoic expression, the slight lift of his lips was a clear sign of amusement. "

  If Dandelion would lend me his god - awful scripts, I might be able to stretch a few more games. For now, though, I'm stuck with these duds." He laid down a Gwent: Redanian Foot Soldier card.

  Zelin casually tossed a Gwent Spy Card into Geralt's pile. "So, what's the deal with having a Sorceress as a lover? What's so great about it? With your Gwent skills, you could earn enough to rebuild Kaer Morhen. That's the stronghold of your School of Wolf, right?"

  "As long as Vesemir's around, Kaer Morhen will stand strong," Geralt countered, throwing down a Scarecrow card to neutralize Zelin's spy.

  "Speaking of Redanian soldiers, I saw some in Temeria a few days ago." George pointed at Geralt's card instead of making a play. "Any rumors? Word is the old king wants to plant his flag south of the Pontar before he kicks the bucket. Not bad for an old timer, eh?"

  Witchers steered clear of politics and wars, but they kept a close eye on world affairs. After all, they needed to know who was hiring them for contracts.

  George's words jogged Zelin's memory of the Redanian soldiers he'd encountered in the forest— at least five hundred, all well - equipped, with vanguard units in tow.

  He suspected other northern kingdoms were mobilizing too. Such a large - scale movement, especially before the new year's grain harvest, couldn't be just a drill.

  Feeding thousands of soldiers daily was no small feat, and there was no logical reason for the kings to weaken their own kingdoms.

  "The empire... If Foltest, the King of Temeria, doesn't react, then Redania must be bracing for an attack from the south," Zelin mused, looking at Letho.

  Among the five, Letho was the only one with connections inside the empire. "Is the Nilfgaardian royal family finally ready to strike at the north?"

  Once, Nilfgaard was a modest kingdom, its influence limited to the city of Nilfgaard.

  But its unique succession system— where the strongest claimed the throne, and descendants had to prove themselves— paved the way for expansion.

  Emperors used military conquests to keep ambitious nobles in line and boost their own authority in the army. In the hundred years Zelin had lived, he'd watched Nilfgaard transform from a small kingdom into an empire that dominated half of the human world.

  With no southern threats remaining, Emperor Emhyr var Emreis seemed poised to turn his gaze north of the Yaruga.

  All the Witchers turned to Letho. War could disrupt their lives just as easily as anyone else's.

  Letho hunched over and drew a Gwent: Nausicaa Cavalry Rider card.

  "You'll find their tracks all over the place south of the Yaruga. That's all I know. Those imperial types don't pay for idle gossip. And last I checked, we're here to save the world, right?"

  "Right, save the world," Zelin scoffed. "Whose turn is it? Let's go. I've got more games to win before we become heroes."

  "Sure thing. We'll be world - saving legends in no time," George chimed in. "My turn. Ugh, this card's a dud. I could throw it on the ground, and no one would pick it up."

  "Maybe we're just kidding ourselves, like ants trying to stop a charging chariot. But at least Dandelion will have a new epic to write," Geralt said, laying down a Gwent: Sheldon Skaggs card.

  "Epic stories don't mention heroes wasting time gambling," Gerd grumbled. "I hope I don't lose my drinking money. This is more nerve - wracking than taking on a Royal wyvern."

  Just then, Francesca's melodious voice rang out from the castle courtyard.

  "Gentlemen gamblers, time's running out. Care to put your cards away? "

  "We paid you to work, not to gamble away your time!"

  " Maybe you should rename yourselves the Gwent Hunters!"