The Divine Hunter Chapter 183

“You drank poison for a little girl?”

“Gods above!” Auckus suddenly exclaimed, and he shot a piercingly sharp look at Roy. “Looks like I have misjudged you, boy. You are a romantic after all, and quite a smart one at that. You know how to capture a lady's heart at such a young age, and through such a brave act, too. You clearly are the winner here. But next time…” Auckes patted Roy's shoulder. “You'll come with me the next time I go to Aretuza. Let's hope the ever-loving Miss Keira is still around.”

Geralt looked at Auckes in confusion. He turned to Serrit and pointed at his head, then he circled his finger, looking to Serrit for an answer.

Serrit nodded. “It happened during the mutation. He'll lose control of his emotions from time to time, but he's generally an optimist.”

“And you bring him around with you? That takes some stomach.”

“He's my brother. Just a little more work on my part, that's all.” Serrit sighed. “It's bad enough that the people distance themselves from us, and we have to deal with a lot of dangerous monsters all the time. If we do not support each other, how do you expect us to survive in this world, White Wolf?”

Geralt was silent for a while, until Roy filled his cup with dwarven liquor. He downed it all and heaved a sigh, and he said, “Once a year, I return to Kaer Morhen in winter and have a chat with the old gits who are still alive, but aside from that, I almost never see any of the witchers from my school.”

“Kaer Morhen?” Roy's eyes shone. “The base of the Wolf School?”

Geralt nodded. He had nothing to hide here. “Yes. Kaer Morhen is in the north. Specifically speaking, in Kaedwen, but a long time ago, it was ambushed.” Geralt paused, sadness welling up in his eyes. “Since then, Kaer Morhen has become deserted.”

Roy knew that the ambush was led by the elven witchers who betrayed the school. “Well then.” Roy licked his lips and downed some dwarven liquor, but he choked on it. “Geralt, ahem, to be honest, there's only me, Serrit, Auckes, and Letho left in the Viper School who can gather in one place. A measly four of us. Pardon me for asking, but how many witchers are left in the Wolf School?”

Everyone looked at Geralt.

“Well…” Geralt hesitated. “I don't think there are any grudges between our school, and there's no need to hide this from you…”

“It's fine if you don't want to talk about it. We can understand, Geralt.”

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“There's nothing to hide. There are only five of us left. Me, Eskel, Lambert, Coen, and our teacher, Vesemir.”

Letho, who had been quiet until then, leaned back in his chair. He smiled bitterly. “So even the Wolf School only has five witchers left. I thought our school was the only one. What kind of era is this? Will the witchers become extinct?”

A forlorn feeling welled up within them. All four witchers were around eighty years old. They trained and grew in their schools, and they saw them rise and fall. Now that they were approaching extinction, they were starting to have mixed feelings about the inevitable reality.

Except Roy. It hadn't been a year since he joined the Viper School. His love for the school wasn't that deep yet. He couldn't wallow in the past, so all he could do was face the future and make out a plan for the witchers' survival.

“Witchers from the Viper School.” Geralt snapped out of the sadness first. “If I remember correctly, your home is not in the north.”

“We used to be in the south. Nilfgaard, to be exact. In a fortress named Gorthur Gvaed. But it's already in a state of decline, and someone's eyeing it as well.”

“Why did you come to Cintra then?”

“Many reasons. Revival of the school first and foremost,” Letho answered.

“Yes. No matter the cost.” Serrit had resolve in his eyes. “We will revive the school.”

Geralt was shocked to hear about that. He asked himself, Would I have the same resolve if the Wolf School was in the same situation?

“Do you see, Geralt?” Roy noticed the look in Geralt's eyes, and he raised his voice. “This is what sets us apart from you. You keep running away and will only rise to the occasion when the crisis is already near, while we will run straight into the crisis and change it, even if it'll cost us dearly.”

“What do you mean?”

The witchers stopped talking and looked at Roy, who was standing tall under the light. “Your school isn't in a better situation than ours, Geralt, but have you ever thought about changing that?”

Geralt opened his mouth, but he said nothing in the end.

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“Exactly.” Roy shook his head. “You're running around in a game of hide-and-seek with Destiny. You didn't even have the courage to take in your own Unexpected Child. If you have the chance, will you try to rebuild Kaer Morhen?”

“I am just a regular witcher. What can I do?” Geralt argued, displeased that Roy would suddenly start to lecture him.

“Then listen closely.” Roy looked at them, his eyes gleaming brilliantly. “Have you ever heard about this part of history? A long time ago, the sorcerers who now live in some countries in these lands were seen as symbols of evil. Before they became consultants for the royal family, they used to be burned to cinders at the stake.”

“Yes. It's history. I love history.” Serrit nodded.

“It was a dark age for sorcerers. They hid in every nook and cranny they could find just to live another day. They used to be in worse circumstances than the witchers are facing right now.” Roy told them about the history, but his voice was filled with passion. “It was not until a group of powerful sorcerers came together to form the Brotherhood of Sorcerers and unite most magic users did sorcerers manage to find their footing in these lands. Since then, the sorcerers have steadily increased their influence.”

“What are you trying to say?” Auckes realized what Roy was getting at, and he—for once—looked serious.

“Ever since I started this journey with Letho, I have been observing and thinking to myself.” Roy turned around and looked up at the ceiling. “And I just can't understand. I can't understand why there aren't any witchers who stand up and tell their comrades we need to unite as well. Because of the lack of unity, all the witcher schools are going in random directions, caring about nobody but themselves. And unsurprisingly, they end up the same way: dead and extinct.”

Roy took a deep breath, and looked at the witchers, a flame dancing in his eyes. He said, “The sorcerers banded together and created a brotherhood, so why can't we? I remember that a group of witchers came together a long time ago and formed the Order of Witchers.” Roy's eyes shone. “The witchers in the order put aside their differences and faced all challenges together. Nobody could trample on them however they wanted, no matter if they were sorcerers or soldiers.”

“That is nonsense!” Auckes shouted, and he stood up. “Roy, our goal is to rebuild the school, not this 'Order of Witchers.' Keep that naive idea to yourself!”

“I have heard of this order as well.” Serrit shook his head calmly. “Hundreds of years ago, the members of the order vanquished countless monsters for the people out of chivalry. The order only lasted for fifty years before it disbanded over differences in opinion.”

Serrit continued, “After the witchers started different schools, those differences started to worsen, since every school had their own style of doing things. Witchers from the Bear School are resilient and cold. Most of them are men of few words, and they are really practical. The Cat School is made up of bizarre witchers. They are violent, extreme, and experts in assassination. The Griffin School emphasizes holy virtues. They aspire to help and save those who are hurt by monsters. They are knights in that sense. As for the Wolf School…” He looked at Geralt. “They firmly walk the path of neutrality. They don't go too far on any end of the spectrum, and most of their attention is focused on monster-related requests. The Manticore School is in the east of Blue Mountains. They don't really come in contact with the northern regions. As for the Viper School…you know how we are, kid.”

He concluded, “I can't imagine the madmen from the Cat School being in the same room as the knights from the Griffin School, let alone working together in an order.”

Roy argued, “Hey, we're getting along with the White Wolf.”

Serrit snorted disapprovingly.

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“Things are different now,” Roy said. “There are far fewer witchers now compared to, say, a few centuries ago. Survival is already a big issue, and I don't think differences of opinion is that much of a problem. Besides, the order was led by two sorcerers: Cosimo and Alzur. They might have experimented and created witchers, but they were no witchers themselves. They could not possibly understand us. An order of witchers led by sorcerers was bound to disband.” Roy concluded, “But if it is led by a witcher, we will have real unity.”

The veteran witchers were silent, but their arched eyebrows were enough to tell Roy that they were still doubtful about the order. “If a beehive were to fall from a tree, not a single larva would survive,” Roy growled. “If we keep doing our own thing, witchers will be a relic of the past in a few decades, at most.”

“But you have to understand that witchers are different from sorcerers. Most of us are arrogant, lone wolves. Getting us together in one room is an impossible task.” Serrit paused for a moment. “And different schools have different recipes for the Trial of the Grasses. How can we even work together?”

“Looks like you have thought about it, but how can you be sure that we can't work together if we never tried?” Roy said, “I'm the newbie here, and I am not beholden to any old rules or view. Remember, we are not trying to topple the monarchy. That is nothing but a big, fat joke. We are just banding together in an attempt to survive. So the people will stop looking at us like we're less than human. So we can walk proudly under the sun and develop like any other organization. Geralt.” Roy looked at the witchers who were deep in thought. “This is why I invited you here today.”

“You're young and imaginative, but you only see the problem at the surface. And that's why you came up with that preposterous plan.” Geralt shook his head. “You're ignoring a lot of obstacles, Roy. The Order of Witchers? That sounds nice on paper, but even if we gather all the remaining witchers in the world, there's only about fifty of us at most. Is there even a need to band together with so few of us remaining?”

“You think there are too few of us? Fine. Then we can be a brotherhood instead of an order. And we can train more disciples if we want to grow.” Roy paced back and forth around the table. “If the disciples are scared of the trial's death rate, we'll get some sorcerer friends to help improve the recipe. Like Coral, like your lover, Yennefer and Triss. The sorcerers made the recipe, and they can improve it. All we have to do is pay the price.”

“Roy, do not drag my personal matters into this.” Geralt had a moment of sadness there. “Do not bring those names up, and cease this foolish plan of yours at once. Recruiting new blood is just a pipedream of yours. The people despise us. Do you know what they call us? Abominations! Monsters! That has been going on for a century, and it is worsening as we speak. No parent would hand their children to us. It's getting harder to gather the ingredients needed for the Trial of the Grasses, and without new blood, your brotherhood cannot grow.”

“Things will change. Trust me.”

In less than two years, the war would begin, and countless children would become homeless orphans. With survival on the line, they would never refuse a witcher's offer when they had it. Even Vesemir, who had been living in Kaer Morhen for a long time, took in a disciple named Leo.

“That is a naive thought.” Geralt sighed.

“I understand. Getting all schools to gather in a short time is impossible, but that's not what we have to think about for now. For the first step of this plan, the Viper School and Wolf School shall become allies. The brotherhood will start with two schools first.” Roy looked at Geralt. “I wish to have a little friendly spar at Kaer Morhen this winter. Just between our schools.”

Letho, who had been quiet all this time, could finally not hold it in anymore. He slammed his fist on the table and crushed his glass to pieces. “You're making decisions on that scale without asking for my permission? Who do you think you are, kid? Master Ivar? The leader of the school? You cannot make that decision all by yourself!” he said coldly.

“Forgive my impudence, Letho, but let me do it just this once. I will tell you my answer tomorrow. You can ask any question you want,” Roy answered apologetically, then he turned back to Geralt. “I apologize for bringing this up all of a sudden, Geralt, but please don't refuse me for now. Think about my proposition. Think about your mentor, Vesemir. He has been guarding a deserted fortress for years now. I'm sure he wants to see Kaer Morhen looking vibrant and lively as well.”

Geralt was silent. He wanted to refuse at first, but Roy brought up the one person he didn't want to let down the most. Vesemir was the person he respected the most in his life. “Give me some time to think, Roy. I shall give you my answer tomorrow.”

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Chapter end