Ignoring whatever Lincoln was doing outside the tower to find the Embers Knight Order yet another Swordsmanship Coach, Lann and Geralt had already arrived at the Knight Order's herb storage room.
Because of the storage requirements for herbs, the room wasn't well lit, and at the same time it was well ventilated. Quicklime had been scattered in all four corners of the room as a desiccant.
The two Demon Hunters had just pushed open the door and walked in when they saw a lazy yet graceful back, already sorting through the herbs.
Triss was sitting on a chair. She wasn't wearing that dress from yesterday—actually, that dress no longer met the minimum standards of "wearable"... Lann had to clarify, she was the one who went crazy last night and tore it off herself.
The Female Warlock right now was like a plump, wine-red rose bathed in morning dew.
