[Both men have let her stew. That's just as well. Better that than to have her explode. At least the air and scenery have been pleasant. And it only rained on them once. The Continent is vast, they made good time.

Stewards come to take the horses. Naturally Geralt and Roach have a goodbye. Though she is equally friendly to John. Curious.

She should rest. Or at least meditate. Something. Her anxiousness is building like electricity in her skin. Another appeal of Aretuza. This is magnetic north. Amplified and sacred magic though always reminding her that she made choices before being able to understand. They made sure of that.]

"I did not expect you to darken the doorway for another hundred years. And you bring rabble."

Spare me, Tissaia. I come for business. You know of the witcher. This is John. Anything else you ask me. They're under my protection.

[Tissaia's sharp eyes look over all of them. Searching for eye contact and trying to find intent. Yen knew she would. Even though she asked to be the sole source of information.] "The Butcher of Blaviken. And a strange sorcerer. And you." [It's like she's found a chip in a rare teacup. Disappointing.] "Now is not the time for your antics. There is a summit."

[Yennefer sighs and rolls her eyes skyward, gesturing for the men to follow her.]

I don't care about that.