“Here. Chew on this and put it over your wound.” Letho tossed a flower with vermillion petals to Roy, his face inscrutable. As Letho looked at Roy —  who was rubbing his leg in pain —  his lips curled into a faint smile. 

Letho had zipped across the land after their departure from Kaer, not stopping for dozens of miles. He’d only slowed to rest in the wilds when dusk had descended. 

A burning pain was shooting up from Roy’s inner thigh. When he looked into his trousers, a crimson pool was forming on his thighs where his skin was torn by rough fabric.

He’d lost 5 HP, and his character sheet showed 37/42 HP. Roy’s constitution was worse than an average adult’s. He wouldn’t be able to ride a horse before his wound healed, which would take days.

I can’t even ride a horse. Why’d I do this with witchers? They’re superhumans. Am I dumb? 

“What did you give me, Letho?” Roy’s teeth chattered from the pain. He chomped on the herb in his mouth, grinding it to a pulp. It had a fine, refreshing flavor, unlike most herbs, which had bitter tastes.

“Marigold. Ever heard of it?” Letho tossed a piece of firewood into the campfire, and the flames crackled. “Kills the pain and prevents infection. You can find it outside of towns. They grow everywhere,” he explained patiently.

Roy paid attention to what he said, and made a mental note of what Letho told him. Part of the reason he treaded the path of the witcher was for useful information, like the ones Letho gave him. Witchers could live for many centuries, making them a treasure trove of experience. Roy would try to get everything he could out of them, allowing him to get stronger.

Letho tossed a few pieces of dry, hard jerky to him as he held his pot of ale and looked into the evening sky, chewing on his food in silence. A while later, he unbuckled his sword and laid on the ground, using his arms as a pillow.

The ground was his bed, and the sky his blanket. Letho looked calm and relaxed, as if the wilds were his home. It was normal for witchers to camp in the wilderness for most parts of the year anyway.

When the scent of wine wafted to him, Roy gulped. “Can I have a taste?” 

His leg felt awkward to move after he’d plastered marigold on it. When Letho said nothing, Roy took the wineskin and had a taste. The moment he took a sip, his neck craned, his eyes bulged, and his tongue stuck out. “What is this?!” 

A sour and spicy taste mixed together like a bizarre concoction, and it made Roy spew out the wine.

Letho’s face fell. “Don’t drink if you can’t take it, child. I went through a lot of trouble to get that from Beauclair. It’s Est Est. Not everyone has the chance to even taste it in their lifetime. This wine is a tribute item. Savor it.”

“Savor it? There is nothing to savor. The wine isn’t good,” Roy answered honestly. “Ol’ Captain’s Inn has better wine. I like its fruit wine. Even its dwarven liquor is better.” And then Roy shifted the topic. “You mentioned Beauclair just now. If I remember correctly, that’s in Toussaint, isn’t it? Have you gone there before? Then you must have seen Duchess Anna Henrietta. Is she as beautiful as the rumors have it?” 

Toussaint was the duchy where the DLC ‘Blood and Wine’ took place. Its fairytale-esque scenery had left a lasting impression on Roy. Of course, there was also the army of higher vampires, the lustful ‘cloud sex,’ and the beautiful duchess. 

“We didn’t see the duchess. Only her husband, Duke Raymond.” Letho peered at Roy. “You’re from a pigsty in Aedirn, boy. By all accounts, you shouldn’t know the duchess’ name. How do you?” 

Toussaint was a duchy in Nilfgaard, a far, far place from Aedirn. The more he talked to Roy, the more Letho thought he was strange. He must have a lot of secrets.

“I told you why, but you don’t believe me.” 

The witchers hadn’t believed Roy’s lie about him seeing the future in his dreams. 

Roy huddled closer to the crackling fire and rubbed his hands. “Do all witchers live long lives like you, Letho?” 

“Most lose their lives when fulfilling requests to hunt down monsters. Either that, or they fall in battle. Not even half make it to fifty.” 

Roy smiled. He knew of an old master in the Wolf School who was already two hundred. Maybe the other schools have witchers like that too.

“Do you regret your choice then?” Letho suddenly turned back to stare at him. “Being a witcher might kill you faster than being a peasant would.” 

“Honestly, a bit.”

“Hmm?” A faint, murderous intent rose from Letho.

Roy quickly changed his answer. “Sorry. It’s the alcohol talking. I won’t regret this.”

“Those gits have sent your parents to Novigrad, as promised. If you change your mind halfway through… The Viper School isn’t filled with madmen like the Cat School, but we show no mercy to those who lie to us,” Letho warned.

“Calm down, Letho. Let’s change the topic. I heard witchers always have two swords with them. Why do you only have one?”

Letho’s face stiffened. “You should know that every school specializes in different fields. The Viper School specializes in short swords and poison for battle.

Roy kept staring at him. Letho then shrugged, and Roy heard resignation in his voice. “I think you know that witchers have a steel sword and a silver sword that can each be held with one hand.”

“Yes. The steel sword is for humans, and the silver sword is for monsters who are weak to silver, right?” Roy asked.

Letho shook his head. “That’s too absolute. Some monsters are weak to silver, but steel works better on some of them. You know why I only have one steel sword? It’s because even a silver-coated steel sword costs a lot, let alone a full one. The Viper School has seen better days, and now we must use our resources on more important matters, like your development.”

Roy’s heart skipped a beat. I wonder if being watched over by a witcher is a good thing. “I don’t think I’d get a good steel sword anytime soon. Actually, I’m more interested in crossbows. Are you familiar with weapons like that, Letho? Can you teach me how to use it?” Roy was disappointed, for he still hadn’t gotten a ranged weapon skill after a month of hunting.

Ranged weapons like bows and crossbows were more compatible with his strongest stat, Perception, compared to melee weapons. After his level up, Roy had increased the level of his new skill, thus making Observe a level 2 skill. He also had a two point increase in Perception.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, boy. Crossbows are the specialty of the Cat School and Bear School.” Letho looked into the night, his gaze deepening as he walked down memory lane. “I’m not exactly a master, but I’ve used crossbows at some point in my life, so I’ll teach you in a couple of days.”

Letho then took out a bag of brown powder and made a circle on the ground with it, surrounding the horse, the campfire, him, and Roy.

Roy’s nose wrinkled, and the stench of the powder reached him. “Is that powder made out of some creature’s feces?”

“Not bad, boy. This is made out of a wyvern’s feces. Surround yourself with it, and no wild animals will come near. Gives you a good night’s sleep.”

Roy’s nose scrunched up, though he could still take the smell. At least it was better than when he was the butcher’s apprentice. When the cold breeze brushed against him, Roy shivered. “Letho, can you not call me ‘boy’ or ‘brat’? Just call me Roy.” Being called brat made him feel like a little boy. 

“Well, you’ll have to work hard so that I’ll acknowledge you. I might just call you by your name then.” Letho didn’t even look up. “You’ll have to get used to it from now on. Get closer to the fire if it’s cold.”

Once Roy had huddled closer to the fire, Letho said, “Now it’s time for your first witcher lesson, boy. Less talking, more thinking. Never show your weakness to anyone —  not even the people closest to you. Shh!” Letho suddenly put his index finger against his lips, demanding Roy to be silent. He obliged, though he listened closely to his surroundings.

A wolf’s howl reached them from afar, and pairs of ghastly green eyes appeared around the camp. Roy held his breath as he loaded his crossbow in silence.

The eyes swayed in the air, and they stared at the campfire. But they didn’t move closer, as if stopped by some invisible force.

Letho drew the Axii sign near his horse, calming the whining, disquieted animal down.

The wolves only howled for a short while, and they didn’t come near them. In the end, they returned to the darkness, whimpering in fear.

“Wyvern’s feces do come in handy,” Roy mumbled to himself. With Letho protecting him, and the wyvern’s feces keeping the beasts away, Roy could gain EXP quickly in the wilds if he used his advantages to the fullest. They were in a place where beasts were at least ten times more numerous than they were in the woods around Kaer.

I can get a lot of EXP here. And I have some meat and anesthetic left.

“Look here, boy,” Letho commanded, and Roy looked back reflexively. All he saw was an inverted triangle, and an overwhelming sleepiness assailed Roy. He closed his eyes, and became oblivious to everything around him.

Axii’s effect lingered for a while, and Letho mumbled many things to the hypnotized boy. Roy thought he’d heard Letho say something, but the wind blew everything away. 

Then Letho heaved a sigh of relief and dispeled Axii. He cracked his fingers and massaged the boy who had fallen asleep. Letho gazed at the young boy, and his expression softened. 

When was the last time I took a disciple in? Thirty years ago? Shame that kid couldn’t even get past the first round of the trial. Will this mysterious brat have better luck?