The town of Bregost was renowned for its lively markets, warm ale, and even warmer company. Its cobbled streets were always bustling with traders, farmers, and travellers, but tonight, the town was more vibrant than ever. A festival was in full swing, celebrating the harvest, and the town square had been transformed into a sea of colourful banners, twinkling lights, and joyful faces. Music filled the air, laughter echoed from every corner, and the smell of roasting meats and freshly baked bread drifted on the cool evening breeze.

In the heart of it all, perched atop a makeshift stage, was Jaskier—prince of poets, master of the lute, and the very soul of the party. His bright, flamboyant doublet, adorned with intricate patterns, caught the light as he strummed his lute, the strings humming with a lively tune. A crowd had gathered around him, enchanted by his performance, their faces alight with smiles and admiration.

“Ladies and gentlemen, lords and ladies, and all you fine folk of Bregost!” Jaskier called out, his voice carrying effortlessly over the noise of the festival. “I bring you a tale of daring deeds, of love and loss, of monsters slain and heroes made! A tale to warm your hearts and stir your spirits!”

He struck a chord on his lute, the sound ringing out with a rich, melodic tone. The crowd quieted, eager to hear the song.

“This is the tale of Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken!” Jaskier began, his voice dipping into a dramatic tone. “But do not fear, for tonight, our story is not one of blood and steel—no, tonight, we speak of love, of beauty, and of a witcher’s heart!”

Jaskier launched into the familiar tune of “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher,” his fingers dancing across the strings with practiced ease. The crowd joined in, singing the chorus with gusto, their voices rising to the night sky. Jaskier grinned, his heart swelling with pride. This was what he lived for—the joy of performance, the connection with the audience, the way music could bring people together.