It was a cool night, a good night, but the witchers were sparring in the field outside their abode. Roy held Gwyhyr tightly by his side, pointing the tip at the throat of his sparring partner. He stood firmly, slowly moving to the side, holding up the ox stance.
Auckes crouched a little, pointing his blade at Roy’s eyes. He held his other blade in his right hand, pointing the blade backward. The veteran witcher stood on his tiptoes, circling Roy.
Eventually they clashed, and sparks flew in the air. Their blades were nothing but blurs zipping through the air. They glinted under the moonlight like little shooting stars. The witchers clashed for a few dozen times before they eventually broke up. Once again, they started another staring contest.
Roy was holding Gwyhyr by his cheek. He looked like a bull pointing its horns at an enemy. He kept circling Auckes, his blade pointed at the veteran witcher. The young witcher was ready to fight, but his hand was trembling. His chest was heaving, and sweat drenched his whole body. Roy was exhausted.
A drop of sweat fell from his chin.
When that glistening drop of liquid landed on the ground, Auckes heaved a sigh and let go of his blades. He held the hilt of his sword, holding it like a crutch. For once, there was no smile on his face. His magical shield had been broken, and a lock of his hair was cut off. “Well, I guess it’s finally time for someone to take my place. From now on, you’re our top swordmaster.” Auckes tilted his head, staring at Roy. He looked a little lamentable, but there was also a smirk in his eyes. He held his sword and poked the air three times, as if he were knighting Roy.
“What are you doing?” Roy rolled his eyes. He swung his blade around and sheathed it. “I lost to you a thousand times. This is just one win. It’s nothing to write home about.”
“You don’t understand. I’m eighty years old, and yet I was distracted in a battle. That hasn’t happened since I was fifty. It’s mortifying.” Auckes pulled his hoodie down to cover his look of embarrassment. “Serrit would laugh his boots off if he ever heard of this.”
“He won’t. This’ll be our little secret.” Roy smiled. He held his laughter down and asked, “Why’d you get distracted anyway?”
“I dunno. I was probably seeing things, but I saw a bunch of bloody… stuff, and they broke my flow. My muscles felt sore right after I started sparring with you.” Auckes massaged his arm. He muttered under his breath solemnly, “I probably had too much to drink with Felix.”
“Bloody stuff. Tell me more.” Roy wanted to know more.
“It’s some sort of tentacle.” Auckes spread his arms and wiggled them, trying to imitate how molluscs would swim underwater. “Looked like octopus tentacles, but they were red. And they were wriggling right behind you. I must have been seeing things. Just looking at them brought back bad memories.” Auckes looked at Roy curiously.
“Why are you staring at me?”
“That was really odd. Are you still haunted by the guy you met in the castle?”
“Impossible. You just had too much to drink,” Roy lied. Red tentacles? So that’s how everyone sees my bloodlust. That’s a spooky way to put it. Why tentacles though? I’m not an eldritch god, Roy thought. He put that aside and replayed the sparring session in his mind.
He could only activate Fear once every four minutes, though it was a powerful skill. Suppression was a continuous debuff, though it was a lot gentler on his enemies than Fear was. Ten minutes wasn’t enough to do any damage, but if the battle were to drag on longer than that, his enemy would start to slip up.
If the battle could run up to twenty minutes, Suppression could reduce Auckes’ speed and strength by a third of their original amount, and it could distract him as well. Roy made use of that opening and, for once in a thousand battles, triumphed against the veteran witcher. He wasn’t happy about it though. He lost more than thirty times in that sparring session before Suppression took full effect and gave him that opening. He would have died more than ten times if that was a real battle. Suppression wouldn’t even have enough time to take effect. Well, he has more than ten points in Will. Any other creature would have fallen in less than twenty minutes, Roy told himself.
“Take ten. I need to sober up before we continue.” Auckes sat down. He was about to meditate.
Roy smiled apologetically. I can’t let him find out I’m using Suppression on him. “Why don’t we change things up a little? Let’s try out my marksmanship this time. You said you could deflect crossbow bolts with nothing but your sword.”
“Sure. I’ll show you how I deal with crossbowmen. You’ll love it.” Auckes smiled confidently, wrinkles forming on his forehead.
***
Ten minutes later.
Auckes was nothing but a moving target for Roy. He leaned against the stables and looked up into the sky. There was a look of astonishment on his face. He wondered if the side effects of his trial were starting to kick in again. “I’m probably getting old. That’s sooner than I thought. I really have to cut down on the alcohol.”
Roy was cleaning his crossbow, though his thoughts were on something else. Gabriel had gone through a few powerups. Thanks to Crossbow Mastery, he could destroy Auckes’ Quen in two shots. Thanks to Guided Arrows, it was nigh impossible for Auckes to dodge the bolts, no matter how agile he was. On top of that, he just got Stun Bolts. Even if he managed to deflect the bolts with his sword and shield, Auckes would still be stunned for 0.1 second. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to mess with his tempo, putting the witchers in a stalemate.
Roy managed to pin the veteran witcher down thanks to his crossbow. It took all Auckes had just to deflect the arrows. He couldn’t even launch a counterattack. However, he could turn things around after Roy exhausted all eight Stun Bolts, so the young witcher fled into the house before Auckes could realize what was happening. He looks confused.
***
Dawn eventually shone on the city, basking the statue of Kreve in its golden glory. The majestic god’s statue was glaring at the plaza’s corner, as if he were raining down divine punishment on the filth of this land.
The people of the fief came to the plaza, huddling around a stage. There were four wooden stakes on it, and one of the troupe members was burned to death here once. That day, they witnessed another corpse on the stake. It was a horrifying sight. A wooden stake bigger than a human’s thigh pierced its body, its tip protruding from the corpse’s mouth, tearing its face apart. The corpse’s eyes bulged, its face contorted in fear and terror. Its neck, arms and body were covered in gashes and bruises. Apparently, it had been subjected to hellish torture before it died. The corpse looked like a rotisserie chicken from afar.
An obese woman gasped. “Gods, what’s happening? This isn’t the first time something like this happened here.” She muttered a prayer under her breath, “Open your eyes, o great Kreve. Put the violence to a halt. Protect your people, prithee.”
Her prayer was drowned out by the people’s noise.
“There’s no way this is a natural death. Someone did this. It’s the devil! The devil is sacrificing us to summon an even worse evil! It’s coming for us all! Run!” an unkempt tramp shouted hysterically.
“Shut up, fool! This is obviously divine retribution! Don’t you see who this guy is? It’s Dylan the executioner! He’s killed more innocents than we can even count! And now his sins have caught up with him!”
“Slacking off again, Auckes? You’re gonna hunt, or you’re gonna starve.”
Auckes sighed. “When I meet Lytta again, I’ll—”
“Stop!” Roy sighed. He looked at his other companions. Felix was training Carl. The boy was getting clobbered with a wooden sword. Sometimes he would spin around like a top and end up confused and disoriented.
Huh? Wh-What happened?
Serrit and Letho were sitting right beside them, talking about the boy’s performance. They ignored Roy’s withering glare. The veteran witchers refused to move.
Roy heaved a sigh and grabbed his crossbow. He went into the fields with nobody but Gryphon. Good thing it was an owl. Owls make for good rabbit hunters.
“Take me too, Roy,” Kantilla volunteered herself readily.
“You’re still hurt.”
“It’s alright. Zerrikanians can still hunt even if we’re paralyzed. Why don’t we race and see who’s the better hunter?”
***
The moon had climbed up into the sky, and the campfire was swaying in the night. Smoke billowed in the air from the campfires of the other convoys.
Roy came back with a pair of fat rabbits, a snake the size of an adult’s forearm, and some humble plants.
“See? Told you I’m a good hunter.” Kantilla came back with him, holding up two colorful pheasants happily.
Roy nodded. “Help me out. You’ll have a feast today.” Roy skinned the animals, fileted, and disemboweled them. He had become a great cook thanks to his days of surviving in the wilds. Most of it was because the veteran witchers were too lazy to hunt for themselves.
Thanks to Observe, Roy could easily get some herbs that would spice up their meals, like fennels, cloves, and nutmegs. Because of that, the food he made was vastly superior to most witchers’, who only focused on filling their bellies.
***
“Letho chomped into the glistening, golden brown rabbit drumstick. The salt and spices added to the flavor, and the texture of the meat was succulent enough to make Letho close his eyes in enjoyment.
“Make us a grilled boar tomorrow, Roy. It’s been a while since we had one.” Auckes took a swig of the snake soup. The meat melted on his tongue, and a unique sweetness exploded in his mouth. He could feel his taste buds dance just from taking a sip.
“Nah. I’m sick of that. I’d like a grilled marmot next. I like how chewy it is.” Felix gave Carl a piece of glistening pheasant meat. The boy rubbed his belly. He frowned, but he powered through and finished the meat.
Kantilla was holding half a pheasant, wolfing it down. She’d stop and lick her fingers like a cat sometimes though. Sometimes she would speak through a full mouth. “Dis ish the ‘est grilled ‘eat I ‘ad e’er ‘since I le’t ‘erri’a’ia.”
“You can have as much as you want.” Roy crossed his arms and looked at them. He felt content for some reason. I wonder when we’re going to see all six schools having a feast together. “What kinda place is Zerrikania anyway, Kantilla?” Roy sipped the snake soup.
“I’s di’erent ‘rom the ‘orthern ‘ands.” She stopped for a moment to swallow all her food, then Kantilla said, “Deserts as far as the eye can see. There’s the occasional oasis, though the place is crawling with gigantic bugs. Venomous bugs. We got a lot of beautiful but deadly creatures there too. Zerrikanians worship dragons. We spend our whole lives trying to chase them down. That includes me.”
The northerners considered the Blue Mountains as the world’s edge, though only a few of the people had the guts to take on the challenge and make the hike. Even fewer make it through and reach Zerrikania. Roy was curious about the land. “I’ll have to see it for myself if I ever get the chance.”
“You’ll love the place. I can be your guide and give you a tour.” Kantilla licked the meat off her lips, her eyes shining.
“Is that a promise?”
“Of course. Zerrikanians never go back on their word.”
“Hey.” Auckes tossed the pheasant bone away and tore off its pygostyle. He popped it into his mouth. “Tone down on flirting. We have children here. Put your homeland and dragons aside. We have much more immediate business at hand.” He burped. “We’ll be reaching Pontar’s delta in a few days. Say, wanna take a look at Oxenfurt?”
“Sure,” Serrit said. “It’s one of the two shining beacons of the world. One is Nilfgaard’s academy, and the other is Oxenfurt. We saw the academy, so might as well take a look at Oxenfurt.”
“I wanna see Oxenfurt too, master!” Carl held Felix’s leg. His eyes were shining. Most parents encouraged their children to make their way into Oxenfurt if they could, though most kids couldn’t even go to a proper school. Carl was one of those kids.
“We’ll be visiting Oxenfurt then. I heard they have a faculty for herbs and medicine. And there’s even a faculty for alchemy. I think that’ll be of some help to me,” Roy said.
Roy had an acquaintance in Oxenfurt as well—Linus Pitt from Natural History. He was the one who bought the kayran from Roy back on the boat in Yaruga. I wonder if Peter the Octopus is still alive. Jaskier and Shani are the academy’s alumni. Even Geralt dropped in before. I’m not gonna pass this chance up.
***
***