[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]
Third Person POV
Kaer Morhen.
...
...
It was night when the group of three mercenary men with a cart finally arrived at the entrance of Kaer Morhen, stopping in front of the gate with only a few torches in their hands as their vision in the middle of the darkness. They were tired and hungry after walking all day, not to mention the cold that began with the falling temperature. They had to come all the way here like this after the witcher refused to help them, so they decided to press on.
"So, now what? What should we do?" the skinny one asked now that they were there.
"Is there any way to call them or something?" the fat man said. "Or should we just go in?" he suggested at the end.
"You think they have a doorbell or something? Can't you see the gate is closed, you idiot?" the muscular one retorted.
"So are we just going to stand here doing absolutely nothing?" the fat man said.
"No. We still have to call them somehow. I don't want to spend the night in the middle of nowhere."
"And how are we supposed to get in?" the skinny one asked. "Maybe we should climb the place?"
"Oh, and our fat friend here would manage that?" He mocked the fat man, who had suggested it again.
"Maybe we should just leave him here," he suggested.
"What?! No!" he objected.
"Even if we managed, we'd be killed by the witchers. They say they're worse than monsters. Did you see how that one on the road treated us? Never trust a Witcher!" The most muscular one muttered.
He was about to keep talking when a light appeared from inside the gate, making the three men immediately focus in that direction.
A figure emerged holding a torch, walking along the gate corridor until he appeared before them, separating them from that elderly Witcher.
"My friend said you were on the road to here. I didn't think you'd actually show up in the middle of nowhere," Vesemir murmured, looking at the three men.
"Are you the boss here?" they murmured, seeing Vesemir's face, which did not look pleased at all to be attending to them at that hour of the night.
"Say what you want and leave." His voice was dry, reminding them of the witcher they met on the road, only this one was a little younger.
"Well... We're here for a job. We're looking for my nephew. He was kidnapped, and we need to find him," one of the men said.
"Where are you from?" Vesemir asked.
The three exchanged glances for a moment before the muscular one stepped forward.
"We're from a farm south of the capital of Kaedwen. My nephew is very important to me. We need to find him, and we'll pay well for it, 200 gold coins," the man said.
Vesemir knew that kings were paying tens of thousands of coins at the very least for such jobs. Clearly, these men were trying to get rich.
"You came from so far just to look for your nephew? That seems very suspicious," Vesemir did not hide his distrust.
"It's just that he's very important..." They tried to disguise it, but Vesemir was already tired of the act.
"Alright. Just hand over the documents with his appearance and where we should take him if we find him. But I guarantee nothing. After all, we are not human trackers, we only hunt monsters. He could be anywhere on the continent, which must be the reason you traveled to these distant lands," he said calmly, while the men were already sweating, trying to appear natural.
"Alright..." The muscular man quickly grabbed his bag, pulling out a set of papers and handing them to the witcher, who took them through the iron gate, still with a cautious expression towards them.
"This doesn't look good to me..." he said, analyzing the documents. But he quickly stored them away and stepped back.
"Now I'm going to sleep. Goodbye," he simply said, turning his back.
"Wait, sir witcher! Couldn't you let us stay in the castle tonight? We can't stay here in this forest and try to go back alone. We could die! There are monsters around here!" the fat one said, his voice laden with fear.
Vesemir looked at them for a second while shaking his head. "No. That is not our problem," he simply said and began to walk away, leaving the three men a little lost.
"And then? How did you deal with them?" Geralt asked at the castle entrance.
Vesemir found him leaning against the wall, waiting for his response.
"The first of many, from what I can see," Vesemir murmured.
Geralt just watched as Vesemir passed by, heading up to his room. The young witcher sighed and, in the end, followed up the stairs behind him, lost in his own thoughts.
In Madara's furnished room, Ciri was lying on his bed, hugging him. The boy had his back to her, eyes closed, while the girl seemed very attached to him. When Madara's eyes opened, he simply cast a silent glance at Geralt, who had stopped to look at them without saying a word. The witcher said nothing either and simply moved on.
The next day, Vesemir placed a paper on the table with an image of Madara, though slightly distorted and not very well drawn.
"It doesn't look much like him," Lambert murmured, making a joke while waiting for Madara to arrive so he could mock him.
The truth was, in the one month that had passed since Madara arrived at Kaer Morhen, he had spent a lot of time with all the Witchers, even Vesemir, talking about many things and developing a sort of friendship. Lambert, on the other hand, continued treating him the same way as always but took every opportunity to mock Madara. After all, it was the only thing he could do against that indifferent black-haired boy, who could beat him in any competition he tried against him.
"Where are they?" Geralt asked as he joined the table after seeing that their room was empty.
"They're outside. I saw them opening the gate, so they must be outside the castle," Coën said.
"And if those guys see them?" Eskel questioned with a concerned tone.
"I highly doubt the boy wouldn't spot them first," Coën murmured. "Besides, he and the girl wanted to spend some time together."
"Man, what a tragedy, huh?" Lambert muttered to Vesemir, who was bringing coffee.
But the old witcher said nothing, merely filling the cups, his thoughts elsewhere. He was still reflecting on the conversation he had with Madara, about the possibility of his former master still being alive. Moreover, he was also thinking about the destruction of Madara's clan, caused not only by him but by other founders of different witcher schools.
There were many questions. After all, they had been hunting them for hundreds of years, and it was hard to believe that the boy's descendants had survived in such a small group, until they formed a couple—his parents—before the last remaining member became Madara. The boy claimed to be the last of his clan, but even he didn't know if there were more survivors.
Meanwhile, Madara and Ciri were at the riverbank, skipping stones across the water. It was a way to distract her. The girl was still visibly sad about his possible departure—how could she not be?—but she already seemed a bit calmer, trying not to cry even though she didn't want him to leave. He had said they would see each other again soon, and she was trying to accept that.
In the end, they returned to the castle around midday, arriving just in time for lunch.
"Look at that, the lovebirds just arrived! The two lovebirds," Lambert teased.
Ciri scowled at him, while Madara seemed indifferent. He simply sat at the table, and the girl followed, sitting beside him.
"So, do you know what you're going to do from now on?" Lambert asked, somewhat curious, while eating a piece of wild rabbit.
"I plan to head north. Maybe even to the mountains and see what dragons are like," Madara answered naturally.
The witchers nearly choked when they heard that.
"Dragons?" Vesemir murmured, concerned.
What were dragons if not mystical beings and some of the most powerful creatures on the continent? And Madara possibly planned to venture into their territory—it sounded like suicide.
"Wait... This is kind of crazy, don't you think?" Eskel asked, clearly surprised.
"I don't know. But it doesn't hurt to try," Madara replied, ignoring everyone's gaze, including Ciri's.
They continued eating in silence. No one knew what else to say, and a rather awkward atmosphere settled in the hall. Vesemir also ate quietly.
"Well, I guess I'll go prepare my things," Madara said, beginning to stand up.
Ciri immediately grabbed his arm, as if unwilling to let him go.
"Please, don't go! Or take me with you!" she pleaded once more, seeing that he would be leaving soon.
Madara was about to respond, but Vesemir interrupted.
"Maybe you don't need to go."
All the witchers turned their eyes toward him, surprised. Madara narrowed his eyes before Vesemir continued.
"Well... I've thought about it, and I think this is for the best. From what we've discussed, I'm sure no one here disagrees with the boy staying, right? Regardless of the risks, isn't that so?" he asked, looking at each of the witchers.
Geralt, Lambert, Eskel, and Coën did not protest.
The old witcher sighed before turning back to Madara.
"Well, if everyone agrees, I see no reason for you to leave. You can stay," Vesemir said directly to Madara.
Vesemir had thought about many things, and perhaps a looming threat to this world seemed convincing enough to let him grow stronger here. He just didn't expect to regret it in the future.
Ciri widened her eyes, stunned by those words. She had also hoped Madara would stay, but she never imagined Vesemir would allow it so easily, especially since he seemed so determined before.
"Well, if you want me to stay, then fine," Madara replied calmly. "After all, someone needs to train Ciri."
For him, spending a few years at Kaer Morhen before trying something out in the world would be more advantageous. After all, it wasn't just men and sorcerers hunting him. There were worse things, and they were out there. He needed to grow stronger.
"This is great! I'm sure that by next year, I'll have learned some pretty interesting skills fighting this boy!" Lambert said, showing a small smirk—the most a witcher could manage.
"Wait, Vesemir..." Geralt intervened. "I'm not against Madara staying, but... what about the bounty papers?"
"About that... We simply won't do anything," Vesemir replied. "We won't owe anyone an explanation. If they come looking for us, we'll say we checked the area, and in any inquiries while we're away, we'll claim we found nothing."
Madara watched in silence as Vesemir continued.
"After all, the official information will be that he left the continent. A false memory that he himself implanted for the kings and the mage organizations to see." They had discussed this in their conversation the previous night.
Everyone listened attentively.
"You're staying! I'm so happy!" Ciri immediately shouted, jumping into Madara's arms.
He touched her head and then looked at Vesemir, nodding in a sign of respect.
"I would just like to ask for one thing."
Vesemir raised an eyebrow, and Madara continued.
"As much as I have my skills, I would like to learn more about your School's knowledge of monsters. I want you to teach me, and Ciri as well, so that we are prepared for anything."
Vesemir pondered for a moment and then sighed.
"Since you're here, there's no way to refuse that." He finally said. "Alright... I will teach you the art of the witchers."
----
Raccoon Here:
Let's do a one-year timeskip.
-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------
Chapter 177 - Triss Merigold.
Chapter 182 - Plans for the King of Kaedwen.
Chapter 192 - The enemy in the shadows.
Chapter 201 - Going back to the Witcher School.
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