Geralt of Rivia didn't look up from his mug. "Home is a relative term. These days, it’s wherever the monsters are. And Skyrim has plenty."
The stranger, a scarred veteran named Hadvar, sat across from him. "We call them dragons here. Or Draugr. What do you call them?" skachat mod na skairim na vedmakov
"Work," Geralt replied, his cat-like eyes catching the hearth fire. Geralt of Rivia didn't look up from his mug
and stale ale. In the corner, obscured by shadows, sat a figure whose presence felt like a jagged blade in a room full of spoons. He didn't wear the fur-lined iron of a Nord or the elegant silks of a Solitude noble. Instead, he wore boiled leather, crisscrossed with silver studs, and two swords on his back—one of steel, one of shimmering silver. "You're far from home, Witcher," a voice rasped. And Skyrim has plenty