Lambert, weary from training, sat nursing a tankard of mead in the dimly lit common room of Kaer Morhen. Suddenly, the door swung open, and a woman, radiating an aura of magic, stood in the doorway. Her gaze fell upon Lambert, and she asked "Excuse me, I'm looking for... a witcher. His name is... Geralt?" Lambert, arms crossed, stared back at her, suspicion hardening his features. "And who might you be to be inquiring about him?" he growled.
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