As much as Jaskier spoke before coming to the house, he seemed to have fallen completely mute after it came into view. Aside from the wedding decorations Geralt wouldn't say that the place was all that pretentious; it was well made and well kept, the windows beautifully set against the rest of the place. His measure-stick was his companion, however, and the only thing worse than an off-pitch Jaskier was a silent Jaskier.

Geralt dropped off his horse and handed his reins to the man Jaskier seemed to recognize, nodding a brief thanks. He knew, somewhat, that Jaskier had come from money but he hadn't even set foot inside of the house and the wealth of the entire operation was already on display.

Julian.

He grunted agreement at Jaskier words and lead the way inside when it was clear that Jaskier's feet didn't feel like moving. He didn't need to turn to hear the bard catch up as they stepped inside the propped double doors and into the large foyer, more flowers here as well as curving staircases with impressive wrought railings. The next room was a large and open, another grand set of glass doors on the opposite wall swung open to the outside veranda and entirety of the affair. It was hard to take in everything from their position hardly past the foyer, for it seemed that every conceivable thing that might be in a wedding had been erected across the green of the expansive back garden.

He'd been wrong a moment ago. Money seemed a loose term, now. Wealth perhaps, was better. Geralt looked at Jaskier and considered the man sleeping on a bedroll and couldn't quite reconcile the two things. Jaskier had grown up in this easy opulence?

Geralt grabbed two glasses off a moving tray and pressed one into Jaskier's hands even as he was lifting the other to his lips.