Disclaimer: I own neither Bloodborne or The Witcher. This work is merely fanfiction, and as such, earns me no income whatsoever. Please don't sue me, I'm really poor.

So here is another story that popped up in my head a few days ago. I mostly got inspired seeing those figurines from Prime 1 studios. I saw them at Comic-con once. Damn are they large and expensive. I didn't know they made ones for The Witcher and Bloodborne. You guys should check them out. They got a really good piece with Lady Maria of the Astral Clocktower. I'm not telling you to buy it though. It's hella damn expensive. If I was rich I'd buy like the entire Witcher statues. They have Triss! And I heard that Ciri and Yenneffer were next in line. I got no clue why Eredin got released before the girls, but I suppose they needed to balance the male to female ratio.

So many, so much want. Damn my poorness.

Also, as an FYI, I haven't read any but the first book of The Witcher series. This story will most likely focus from the lore I remember from the video game series. I might, might use some stuff from the books. The setting is some years past the original ending of the game, DLC and all.

The witcher gazed upon the familiar village he had not seen for several years. He had no reason to return here. He had spent much of his time tending to contracts further south of the Northern realms since his acquisition of Corvo Bianco, the vineyard awarded to him by the duchess of Toussaint. Aside from the occasional problematic contracts, he and his beloved Yennefer had greatly enjoyed their time together there. The only times he ventured north were to visit Kaer Morhen to maintain the worn-down old witcher fortress.

However, he was here now. Back again at White Orchard.

"Oh, man. I can already tell how cheap this place pays."

Lambert frowned at the village at Geralt's side.

"Not that bad," said Eskel on the other side of Geralt. They were all on horseback watching the village from top of a hill overlooking down. "It's better than most places."

"Were not here for work," said Geralt.

"Oh really?" said Lambert. "Must be nice to be a witcher that owns his own vineyard. It's too bad not all us witchers can get so rich sitting on their asses all day. You must find it hard to get out of bed every day. Especially sharing one with a sorceress as nice as Yen."

Geralt didn't mind his fellow witcher's sarcasm. It was refreshing in a way. Besides, he knew well how Lambert had been doing recently.

"Uh-huh," he nodded, "And how's Keira?"

"She-! I-! You-!" Lambert looked like a fish out of water. "Shut up!" he finally said in a frown.

The two had come a long way since they first fought together at Kaer Morhen against the Wild Hunt. Yenneffer had more than gladly told Geralt of the various adventures and romances Keira had been sharing with her about their journey together since then. Some of it quite sordid in detail that Keira seemed quite eager to express.

"Nice," smiled Eskel. It was rare to see Lambert so lost for words.

Their horses cantered down the hill to approach the village. The people out on the fields noticed them from afar, no doubt their twin swords of silver and steel were well recognizable to them. There were a few among them that scattered and ran back to the village. A witcher was an uncommon sight. Only when monsters are aplenty would one expect a visit from a witcher.

To see three together?

The calm village had now tensed at hearing the news. Villagers gossiped to one another of any monsters that had crept up recently to attract the attention of three witchers. For why else would witchers come to visit a village like theirs?

Geralt sighed as Roach, his ever loyal mount, stopped at the village inn.

"Okay, what's wrong?" inquired Lambert. "What did you do here?"

"What do you mean by that?" he said. "I just sighed."

"No, you didn't." Lambert looked at him as if he already knew. "You sighed because you just remembered you did something here that you probably shouldn't have. What was it? Was it really bad? Did you sleep with the innkeep's daughter or something? Please tell me you didn't. My ass is sore from being on the road for so long, Geralt. Please tell me we're not going to have to camp out again. I just want a decent hot meal and a roof over my head after traveling for weeks with nothing but the occasional monster on our way and the company of brawny, unattractive men."

"Someone's grown spoiled," said Eskel. "I didn't realize life on the path had ever been so cushy."

"Can we please just drop the fact with Keira?" complained Lambert. He knew what Eskel was hinting at. "Keira is one sorceress. Count that? One. Geralt had been with more sorceress than I go through my underwear in a week. Why does everyone keep bringing it up?"

"Maybe because it's you?" said Geralt.

"Ha-hah-ha," laughed Lambert in sarcasm. "I am truly honored. Come on, let's just get this over with."

It didn't take long before Lambert found out the answer if they would be welcome or not. Elsa, the proprietor of the inn, screamed and howled at them to leave as soon as she saw Geralt's face. Geralt had hoped that, with the time that's passed, the old woman would have realized he had only meant to help back then. He actually hoped that she might've forgotten him altogether.

She apparently had done neither.

"It was an unavoidable circumstance," said Geralt as Lambert glared at him after being forced to leave the inn by the hysterical innkeep.

Thankfully—mostly thankfully that Lambert wasn't going to be so pissy—they weren't going to have to camp out again. A local villager that Geralt had saved once before had offered to let them stay at his home for their stay.

"Really sorry for the way Elsa treated ye there, Master witcher," said Bram as he served the witchers stew from his pot. "I've tried to reason with her all this time, but I'm afraid that she's still quite scared of you.

"I can understand, Bram," said Geralt. "It happens a lot more than I care to admit."

"Like not admitting it just a while ago," mumbled Lambert, gulping down his drink.

"I'm just glad that not all the people I save see me that way."

Bram was Elsa's cousin that he had saved on his way to White Orchard with Vesemir. It was good that the witcher had made time to save the poor merchant. It seemed to have paid off that he had never charged a fee to save the man's life.

"So what brings ye back here to White Orchard, Master witcher," said Bram. "You and yer fellows got the whole village astir. They be wondering what sorts of monsters are here to get the attention of three of yer folk. Well, not that there are many monsters left here nowadays."

Lambert and Eskel stopped eating and drinking for now as they and Geralt briefly shared a look.

"I'm looking for a woman," said Geralt.

"Ye still be lookin' for that lady of yours from before?" said Bram. "Thought you would have found her by now, or at least know where she is."

"Different one," said Geralt with a smile. "Found the one from before. She's doing fine now. Who we're looking for now is a woman with ashen hair."

The witcher felt the irony of that, as he too had switched from finding his beloved Yenneffer to Ciri soon after leaving White Orchard. This whole thing was giving him all sorts of déjà vu.

"Ashen hair…" Bram knotted his eyebrows. "Pale skin wearing foreign clothing?"

"You've seen her?" asked Lambert. "You've actually seen this woman? She's real?"

"A few times actually," nodded Bram. His voice was cautious and low. "As real as you sitting in front of me, aye. Though she was pale enough to mistake for a ghost. A foreigner, no doubt. I maybe poor merchant but a merchant I still am nonetheless. I've never seen anyone wear such strange garb in all my trades. I've even traded with some Skelligers."

"Where is she?" said Geralt.

The witchers were now obviously paying attention to every word coming out of Bram's mouth. The candle at their table flickered from a draft. The winds outside seemed particularly strong that evening.

"She left about a week ago for the Pontar, last I saw."

Lambert cursed. "A week ago! We could have been here before that if it wasn't for that damn Leshen getting us lost in those woods!"

Geralt held up his hand to silence him.

"Do you know anything about her?" he asked Bram. "Can you tell us what you know? It's very important that you tell us what you can about this woman. All the details. Leave nothing out."

"I'll tell ye what I can," nodded Bram.

The merchant soon recounted the events of what he knew about the woman arriving at their village. The woman had arrived several months after the winter harvest, amidst a cloudy, darkened sky. The villagers were wary of her at first. She had smooth porcelain like skin, ashen hair, and a beautiful fair face that seemed so perfect, it didn't seem natural. In addition to that, she was a foreigner none in the village had ever seen, nor even heard of before.

While they were somewhat uneasy of her appearance, the villagers still welcomed her and gave her a hut to stay. The people had thought her a noble by the quality of her elaborate clothing and the way she carried herself. Nothing good came out of mistreating a noble. That had been something deeply ingrained to peasants everywhere in the world. Nobles could have whole villages wiped from the map on a single whim, and that's no folk tale.

"When first she came, I thought her to be a quiet woman," recalled Bram. "Soft-spoken. Kept to herself mostly. Never bothered none of the villagers. I'd always thought nobles would be more uptight and high and mighty, but she was really just different, master witchers. Not a single complaint from the meals we offered her, even when we couldn't spare any meat several times. Not that she ate all that much, now that I think about it."

"And the monsters?" said Eskel.

The rumor that brought them here was that of an ashen haired woman hunting monsters. It's a long story on how Geralt had come about that rumor. Right now, there were other important matters.

"Aye," Bram nodded. "The monsters. Nekkers mostly. We'd thought Master Geralt had rid us of them for good last he was 'round these parts, but there's been more than ever since that day of clouds and storms. A terrible day truly that was."

Geralt lowered his head. It was the Conjunction of Spheres when Ciri had saved the world from the White Frost. The monsters that he and his fellow witchers had once hunted down to the brink of extinction had surged in numbers thanks to that. It's been terrible for the normal folk, but the witcher contracts have been popping up just about everywhere. Anywhere they go, a contract for a beast is up on the local board. It's gotten to the point that seeing a witcher no longer illicit much more than a sigh of relief compared to the utter disdain and fear they once received.

There was some part of Geralt that felt responsible for it, even though their situation is much better than facing the White Frost. Lambert just felt smug and enjoyed their newfound popularity. It used to be that people would haggle for even a single crown for the price of an Archgriffin. Nowadays? Some would pay a pouch full just for a single nekker without a single word of haggling. People were even fighting over a witcher's attention. They would give them the best rooms, the best food, and the best entertainment just to get one to stay longer. It's one of the reasons Lambert got spoiled.

"No one knows why the nekkers ventured so far from their nests," said Bram. "Might be that they've grown in numbers too much. It's possible that an even fiercer monster drove them off as well. All we knows is that they attacked our village en masse."

"It's happened to more than a few villages," agreed Eskel. "Not many were so lucky to survive."

"And blessed be our luck had turned," nodded Bram. "If not for the noble lady, I fear I wouldn't be here now to speak with ye. True, we lost some people, yet none might have survived if not for that lady coming to our aid."

"She carried a weapon with her?" asked Lambert. "Or are you going to tell us she used magic or bare-fisted the annoying little shits to death?"

"Oh, that she did." Bram poured himself a warm drink, and took a sip. "She had at her side a crafted saber of fine make, just the sheath itself might've cost more than the entire village. Pretty and nice to look at, you see? Though we thought it at first no more than decoration. The lady looked so delicate, we had no notion that she would be so capable of using it." The merchant closed his eyes as he seemed to recall the memory. "Such masterful strokes… She'd cut down the nekkers with ease. As if she'd have easily been cutting down wheats in the field. No magic as far as I know, master witchers. Though the lads who got a better view swore that she moved faster than the wind at times, fading in and out of sight, leaving severed bodies of nekkers all over."

Geralt had started rubbing his witcher medallion. If there was a hint of magic, he was sure it would pick up its presence.

"She left after that?" he asked.

"No, sir." Bram shook his head. "That was more than several months ago. The lady stayed here for a while after that happened. Not that the village folk were eager to drive her away. The lady had inquired us of whatever forms of beasts that were ailing our poor village. She was eager to get rid of them, you see? 'Course we begged her not to put herself in harm's way. Folk were still afeard that if some harm may come to her, some other nobles might accuse us of treachery."

"True that." Lambert raised his cup.

In all their time on the path, the witchers had seen such a thing happen more than once before. Pompous and power drunk nobles spreading their woes and problems on the innocent. Not many nobles cared of the people below them. The rich and powerful tended to take out their stress by stepping on those beneath them.

"Seeing as you're all still here, I'm assuming no one came looking for her then?" asked Geralt.

"None, master," answered Bram. "Not until you three arrived."

"Good," grunted Eskel. "Less people involved, the better."

It was a sentiment Geralt shared immensely.

"Seemed our fears were for naught," continued Bram. "The lady came back time and time again, with nothing but the blood of the monsters she slew on her. The villagers were glad to have her here. Never asked for coin either, only took it after we offered it to her. Even then, she used it to pay for meals for the poorer villagers."

"Sounds like a saint," sneered Lambert.

"Some folk say that she be Melitele herself," nodded Bram seriously. "There be some in the village who think she be a goddess. You can see some praying to her at times nowadays, calling out her name. It's certainly better than waiting for a wit—uh, mercenaries to come along."

"Damn saints taking our jobs," snickered Lambert. "I'm kidding. We're up to our necks in contracts lately. I'd be glad to have a little less work. Never thought I'd see the day where I missed having less coin in my pouch. You know I had to open up an account for the first time ever at Vivaldi's?"

"How times have changed." Geralt rolled his eyes.

He motioned for Bram to continue.

"Anyways, the village grew accustomed to going to the lady if monsters were to be spotted somewhere. She'd go out as soon as news of it reached her. She'd make quick work of them, that she did. She'd slain nekkers, drowners, arachas, and even a chort that had eaten our village's prized cow."

"Must've been a really good cow," said Geralt.

"That she was," nodded Bram, a far off look in his eyes. "Pride of our village, in fact. Suppose it would have been taken by some fiend eventually."

"Think you would have made good money in the cow business, Geralt?" smiled Lambert. "Heard it was pretty easy money, all things considered."

"Nah," Geralt shook his head. "I've got enough problems getting taxed at Corvo Bianco. Yen's already nagging me about getting our taxes done this year. I don't need to add Temeria's complicated tax system into the mix."

"No one escapes the tax man," agreed Eskel.

Taxes seemed to be universally loathed by the rich and poor alike. Even witchers—even ones taciturn like Eskel—can't help their annoyance from showing up on their faces at the thought of getting taxed of their gains.

"The lady was strong as she was kind," continued Bram. "She tended to our sick and wounded whenever she weren't slaying monsters. The village folk were grateful. Even those misshapen from disease and accidents, she nay shied away. She held their hands much the same as anyone else's, tainted as they were. She soothed their fears and gave them hope. A truly noble lady."

"Ask her where she came from?" said Geralt.

"Aye. A place none in the village ever heard of." Bram scratched his head as he remembered. "She hails from a very strangely named place. Might be somewhere past the Great Sea or far yonder the Blue Mountains."

After Bram had told them as much as he knew of the woman they were trying to find, the merchant left them to seek lodging at his cousin's inn. His house was cramped enough as it is by himself, so he had offered to leave them be. It was only for a single night, and he trusted Geralt enough to feel safe that the witcher and his companions would not rob him or damage his home.

"What do you think?" said Geralt as he laid in his cot.

"What am I supposed to think?" answered Lambert, he taking the merchant's bed after winning through a round of gwent. "That the woman we're supposed to find is a saint that helps people from the goodness of her heart? That this same woman can cut down monsters without so much as a silver sword? Or the fact that she, from the repeated hinting of our host, might be a goddess descended from the heavens?"

"No," simply stated Eskel, staring at the straw roof above their heads. "Gods don't bother slumming it with mortals."

"At least we know more than we did before," said Geralt.

"We didn't know shit from before," countered Lambert. "All we knew was that an ashen haired woman was slaying monsters left and right here. Everything else came out of the mouth of that shifty elf of yours. I didn't trust that guy way back during the Wild Hunt, and I still don't trust him now."

"I don't either," said Geralt. "But I do trust Ciri and Yen. If they said what Avallac'h said could be true, then I'm inclined to believe him. Didn't Keira verified it herself?"

Lambert grumbled to himself. Seems that Keira had indeed told him about it herself.

"And you?" he directed his annoyance at Eskel. "You just going along with that?"

"I don't got no sorceress to ask," pointed out Eskel. "Unlike you two. Still, if Wolf thinks it might be true, then I'm good with that."

Lambert sighed, turning over and putting out the candlelight. "I give up. Just wake me when we're leaving."

Come close to the break of dawn, the witchers were already mounting their horses in front of Bram's hut. The merchant was kind enough to sell them provisions for their journey to the Pontar.

"Mandrake Cordial." Geralt held up the dark bottle from the rest of the provisions. "Nice. Wasn't expecting you to have it."

"Not many buy it, but I thought a witcher might get some use out of it," smiled Bram.

"Alright, alright," yawned Lambert. "Thanks for everything yada yada yada—Let's get a move on before the sun shines. I'd hate to see your ugly mugs while I'm still half-asleep."

"Sorry I ain't pretty enough to kiss you good morning," smirked Eskel.

"Will you just drop it!"

The three witchers left White Orchard in peace. As Bram had said, there wasn't much work left to be done there for a witcher. Whoever the woman was, saint, goddess, or anything else, she did make sure to clean the place of monsters during her stay there. Quite amazing for several months work.

"Any idea what we're going to do when we catch up to her?" said Eskel after riding for a while.

"Politely ask her to get in our sack so that we can take her back to a shifty, possibly crazy elf's cave who has who knows what kinds of weird plans for her?" offered Lambert.

"How about we start with introductions?" said Geralt.

It was a good idea. People alike, even the really vicious ones, tend to go ahead with introductions. For some reason, the nastier a person was, the longer his self-introduction would be. They'd stray off into a monologue sharing their hopes and dreams. Not that Geralt minded. It usually meant he got some time to plan an escape or attack.

"Geralt of Rivia!" Lambert pretended to bow on his horse. "White Wolf, Gwynblied, witcher, Butcher of Blaviken, and producer of fine wines, my lady. Might I politely ask that you get in this sack—Ow!"

"Be serious." Eskel crushed one of the hard nuts in his palm and ate it.

"Hard to be being half-awake," complained Lambert, rubbing the sore spot on his head.

"Want a few more to wake you up then?"

"Fine, fine!" Lambert frowned at the cracking nuts in Eskel's hand. "Introductions it is. How do we even address her? We're not even sure if she's peasant, noble, or even royalty."

"Maria…?" murmured Geralt. "Lady Maria… of the Astral Clocktower."

A/N:

Sorry if you're disappointed you didn't get to see Maria appear yet. This is just an introductory chapter. Hope people enjoyed it still.

I'm going to say that don't expect frequent updates. While I do like my idea for this fic, I got so many other fics I'm working on already. I'd advise cautious enthusiasm. While the quality is nice, it took me several days to come out with something that's not even 4k words long.

Anyways, I hope people read and review. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, please do inform me.