![]() When we revisit Yennefer, she’s stuck at the side of a spoiled queen named Kalis, who has a newborn baby girl. Meanwhile, it’s been 30 years since Yennefer endured her enchantment and graduated from magic school, and life at court hasn’t exactly turned out the way she dreamed. (I preferred the hedgehog head, but whatever.) When the dust settles, Calanthe agrees to honor the Law of Surprise, and the curse on Duny is lifted. The near murder is only stopped by Pavetta, who reveals a supernatural power very much like Ciri’s, which knocks everyone back in a single glass-shattering scream. The real obstacle is Calanthe, who is so incensed by this deviation from her plan that she orders the soldiers in the room to kill Duny where he stands and then - after Geralt intervenes to protect Duny - tries to kill him herself instead. You might assume that Pavetta would rather not marry a man with the head of a hedgehog, but it turns out she’s in love with Duny, who has a hedgehog head only because of a curse. In this case, Duny saved the life of Pavetta’s father and was promised something unexpected - which, in this case, turns out to be his daughter. The trick is that neither the giver nor the receiver knows what the boon will be until it’s given. It’s a fairy-tale-esque wrinkle of the Witcher universe, in which one person who receives a great service from another grants them a boon. And to Calanthe’s great displeasure, Duny has a legitimate claim to marry Pavetta: a social contract called the Law of Surprise. ![]() It is deeply weird, and it absolutely rules. In case that last sentence didn’t sink in, a dashing young knight with the head of a hedgehog. But as Calanthe shoves her unhappy daughter toward an unhappy marriage, an unlikely suitor emerges: Duny, a dashing young knight with the head of a hedgehog. Pavetta is understandably less than pleased about her boorish husband-to-be. Though there’s theoretically a competition among a whole host of suitors for Princess Pavetta’s hand in marriage, it’s all a sham: Calanthe has already decided her daughter will marry Crach an Crait, a drunken idiot who will benefit the kingdom by providing a useful political alliance. The Queen of Cintra comes into the ballroom in armor and covered in blood, having left the battlefield and walked directly into the party she’s throwing for her daughter. I think The Witcher tends to work better when Geralt is a supporting character in someone else’s story, and this episode really belongs to Jodhi May’s Calanthe. As a grumpy, antisocial outcast whose best friend seems to be his horse, Geralt could hardly be less suited to the elaborate social graces of a stuffy banquet, and The Witcher deserves credit for taking what could easily be another grim-and-gritty fantasy drama and having some fun with it. Her daughter, Pavetta, is in line for the throne, and Pavetta’s daughter - Princess Ciri, the star of her very own story in her very own timeline - hasn’t even been born yet.īut as interesting as it is to cobble together The Witcher’s chronology, the real joy in “Of Banquets, Bastards, and Burials” comes from the wackiness of this mostly self-contained story itself. Calanthe, who died by suicide in the premiere episode, is younger, cockier, and at the height of her power here. The Witcher’s chronology has been needlessly convoluted so far, but the events of this episode bring some clarity. At the request of Jaskier - who has slept with the wives of many noblemen and fears the husbands are ready to kill him - Geralt agrees to attend a royal ball at Cintra, which is being held to settle on a husband for Princess Pavetta, the daughter of Queen Calanthe. If Geralt’s last adventure was a fantasy-flavored whodunit, this one is a fantasy-flavored comedy of manners. ![]()
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