The Divine Hunter Chapter 219

Chapter 219: Merten of the Manticore School

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Night had fallen on the city of Vizima. The House of the Queen of the night was filled with the stench of wine and an organ's melody. Men and women alike drown themselves in the pit of desire, surrendering themselves to their primal instincts.

Suddenly, someone opened the front door, and in came a group of burly men. Instead of the usual pair, this time, there were five witchers who came into the establishment. Roy and Letho were there, of course. Auckes and Serrit followed them, and Berengar the blacksmith was with them as well. They took up the table right beside the door.

Serrit and Auckes looked haggard. Their hair and beard were unkempt from them going so long without even a bath. Their hair was greasy and filled with dandruff, while their black leather armor was caked in dried blood. They smelled of blood and rotten food.

“Four Bloody Marys and an apple cider, please!”

“A moment, please.” Sharika the bartender smiled at them. She took out a few bottles of wine and went to prepare the drinks for them. It was a performance when she made drinks to say the least.

“We're one week ahead of schedule.” Auckes enjoyed Sharika's performance, though he was mostly eyeing her perfectly curvy body. He kept shaking his leg, as if he wanted to go somewhere. “And it's all thanks to your stallion, Roy. Wilt's a great steed. I think it's part Mahakam. He has incredible stamina and didn't really tire over the course of the journey. And it's really brave too.” The light was illuminating Auckes' face, and it was red with excitement. “Remember the royal griffin on Amell?”

“Coral warned me about it.” Roy took the Bloody Mary from Sharika. It was as red as blood and smelled intoxicating. The witcher frowned and gave Auckes the drink.

Auckes took a swig and squinted in delight. “That hits the spot. You always know how to pick the best wine. Toussaint's grape wine doesn't make the cut. I need something strong, and uh… this place is surprisingly exciting.”

“You mentioned a griffin?”

“Patience, Roy. That beast probably thinks it owns Amell. It didn't even put its guard up. Wilt baited it into our trap, and Serrit and I did it in.”

“Is Wilt alright?” Roy felt his heart skip a beat.

“Hey, you saw him earlier. That is one smart steed. How'd you train him, anyway?” He burped. “It's all smooth sailing after we go through Amell. 'Cept for a bunch of bandits who tried to rob us. That's one way to make some money, I s'pose. The problems began once we got into Toussaint. The map is…”

“Did I get the wrong location?” Roy felt his heart sink. Did I remember it wrong? Or did history change? 

“No. The area you pinpointed is just too general. Western Toussaint, the gaol, and a hidden church? Those are all vague clues. We had to search a lot of places.”

“Sorry.” Roy sipped some cider and pushed the creature's paw back into the hood before it could touch the wine. “My premonition is uncontrollable, and you know that. So, you didn't find the blueprint?”

“Alright, that's far enough.” Serrit shot his brother a glare. “Make it simple, you fool.”

“Well, we ran into some issues, but it went well.” Auckes sighed. “I'll make this short. You mentioned a Manticore School witcher called Merten, right? He had a long talk with a believer of Lebioda in some Toussaint gaol. He changed right after that. Became a devout believer of Lebioda. It's been more than fifty years since then. Finding where he is right now would be a hard task, so I came up with an idea. I pretended to be Lebioda's believer and had a little talk with the local believers. Eventually I found out who that guy who talked to Merten is. He's famous too. Used to be jailed in the Bastoy Prison for a while. Good thing I'm smart and talk well too. This guy here would have botched it.” Auckes looked at his brother with scorn. “He can't even form a sentence. There was no way he could find anything.”

“You mentioned a prison?”

“Alright, alright, sheesh. Bastoy Prison lies in ruins now. It has been in a state of disrepair for many years. We went around and found someone's skeletal remains in the end. And we got ourselves something good too.” Auckes beamed, and Serrit took out a leather scroll from his backpack. “This is the blueprint for Manticore School's steel sword. Merten must have left it behind during his time in the prison.”

“Can I have a look?” Berengar extended his hand, a look of longing flaring in his eyes.

“Of course, blacksmith.” Auckes raised a toast to Berengar, and both alcoholics took a big swig of their Bloody Marys. He handed the blueprint to Berengar and gave Roy a look. He had no idea how the young witcher managed to trick a master armorer into traveling with him.

“That's all? Where's the silver sword's blueprint?”

“Patience. We found a book in the remains. It's titled 'A Prisoner's Journal.' It points out where the church is. Obviously the believer who converted Merten wrote this. A pity he never managed to break free of prison. According to this journal, the church is hidden in a remote cave. It's the same cave Lebioda first received his enlightenment, and it was where Merten started his pilgrimage.”

“The witcher called Merten gave up all his equipment and his school's weapons' blueprints before he started his pilgrimage. We walked along the path and found something really important.” Serrit laid the backpack out for everyone to see. There were two books in there. The first one was the book Auckes said earlier, while the other was titled 'Great Beggar's Journal.'

Besides the two yellowing books, there were also three leather blueprints inside. They detailed all the steps to make the Manticore School's armor, boots, and pants.

“Look! There's something behind the blueprint!” Berengar exclaimed. Everyone's attention turned to him, and he turned the blueprint over, revealing the wall of text behind it.

'Seventh day of the month of the Sun, 1203

Grant me strength to stay steadfast!

Grant me mercy to rid me of my doubts!

Grant me resilience so I can bid my old life farewell and pursue this new faith!'

The witchers looked at one another. Aside from the prayers, Merten wrote down his introduction on the flip side of the blueprint.

'I, Merten, a witcher of the Manticore School, shall begin my pilgrimage today. My journey begins in the very same cave Lebioda fasted and meditated for twenty-three mornings and nights. I swear I shall atone for my sins and walk the path of redemption. I shall cut all ties with my previous life loose to become a proud believer of the prophet. I now announce my rebirth!

I shall travel to the temple of Lebioda and request an audience with the Great Beggar. He is a sage who has spent more time than anyone in interpreting Lebioda's wisdom. I shall take his advice and heed his guide on this path to redemption.'

The text roughly said how a witcher renounced his school and turned to Lebioda for guidance.

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“I was shocked when I saw this letter.” Auckes chuckled to himself. “I bet he's the first witcher to renounce his school for a religion. I can never understand him. He left this life behind just to become some sort of monk who can't even have fun.”

Witchers had the creed of 'the strong survives' drilled into their heads since they were kids. They were subjected to an endless training regime. Once they passed the Trial of the Grasses, they would risk their lives just to make a living. They had no time for gods or religions.

Most witchers did not believe in religions. What they believed in was their sword.

“Merten from the Manticore School. I don't know a lot about him. Never thought he would renounce his school.” Roy suddenly turned to Berengar. “Do you have a religion, mate?”

The mercenary witcher looked a little miffed. Like Merten, he too had renounced his school. “Only fools put their faith in 'gods' and 'prophets.'” Berengar answered adamantly, “I go with what my heart tells me to.”

“So has it told you to return to the fold?”

“Kid, I'm warning you right now. Just drink. Don't talk about that place. Not even a word.”

“Sure. As you wish.” Roy heaved a sigh. Man. What does it take to make this guy cave? “Is this witcher still alive? If he is, where did he go?”

“His last letter said he would be going north to spread the gospel of Lebioda. He would travel past Aedirn and Kaedwen,” Serrit answered. “It has been more than fifty years since then. If he is still alive, he'll probably be in the Dragon Mountains.”

Roy made a mental note of that. “So why did Merten toss away decades of his life and choose to serve Lebioda instead?”

“I think I can guess why.” Letho finished his Bloody Mary and wiped the stains off his lips. “Master Ivar told us about the Manticore School. It's located east of the Blue Mountains, where the far kingdom of Hakland resides. Zerrikania stands right beside them. Hakland has an abundant source of herbs, so the Manticore School explored the path of potions and decoctions more. They managed to find the best use for a lot of herbs.” A pause later, he said, “Their members are all addicted to potions.”

“And that's why Merten wanted to serve Lebioda. He wants to get rid of his addiction,” Serrit guessed. “That's why he cut off all ties with his past.”

“He has multiple blueprints with him. It's obvious he's a powerful man in his school as well. Perhaps he's even a founder like Master Ivar.”

An elder of a witcher school started serving a prophet? “And what can he get from serving Lebioda?” Roy thought of something. Is theology standing at the end of this path I'm on? Do I have to choose a god to serve once I gain ultimate power?

Everyone was quiet.

Auckes could see the shock in everyone's eyes, and he continued, “This is just part of the blueprints. Serrit and I couldn't finish the path. We stopped right in front of the church. According to the mural, there's a deep cave behind the church. It's called the Cave of Trials, and it's filled with poison gasses and monsters. There are drowners, endregas, fleders, and even alps.”

The sexy bartender, who had been silent all this time, winked at him. Auckes pointed at his empty mug. “It's a pity Serrit and I couldn't face the dangers alone. Only those who pass the trials may stand before the end of the path, where the Lake of Cleansing lies. I think the blueprint for the gloves and silver sword are around that lake.”

“Turning back was the correct decision.” Roy and Letho exchanged looks. “Once we're done with our business here in Vizima, we'll travel to Novigrad to wait for news. But first, we'll need all the equipment recorded on this blueprint. Blacksmith, can you do that?”

Berengar looked at the armor blueprints and sword blueprint carefully, a frown furrowing his brows. “Hakland is a kingdom located east of the Blue Mountains. Their style is slightly different from ours. I'll need some time to figure it out. It'll take at least a month for me to figure out how to make all this equipment.”

“We'll leave you to your work then. We'll gather all the necessary materials as soon as possible.” Roy took a quick look and saw that they needed dimeritium, cured draconid leather, and a lot of expensive materials to make the equipment. Those things cost a lot of money, which they did not have. Roy had to come up with a way to make money. “As for the reward…”

Berengar shook his head. “I owe you one for settling Kalkstein's request for me. No need for any reward. Just prepare the necessary materials. They aren't cheap.”

“Start with the armor, blacksmith. One set will be enough. Leave the sword for later.” Letho waved his hand, and four brand new Viper School swords appeared out of thin air. “Berengar made these. It's the school's steel and silver swords. One set for each of you.”

“Nice, Letho!” Serrit and Auckes unsheathed the blade and brushed their thumb across the sword. Their eyes gleamed. “Good stuff! Now that I have this, I can finally retire that rusty old sword of mine.” Auckes looked particularly excited, but then he asked, “So how much did this cost? You made quite a few swords.”

“Spent almost all our money.”

“Wow. Roy actually paid?”

“Are you looking down on me, Auckes? I'm not stingy, you know.”

Letho told them of Kolgrim's fate and what happened in the White Orchard.

“Another one bites the dust.” Sadness filled Serrit's eyes, and he gulped his wine down.

“For Kolgrim!”

“For Kolgrim!”

“Woof!” A black dog stuck its head out of the hood. It was sticking its tongue out in delight.

The air froze.

“What the hell is this?” Aside from Roy, all the witchers turned their sights onto the dog.

The puppy froze up and pulled back into the hood.

“You're keeping a pet?”

“Why'd it turn into a dog?” Letho asked.

“Um, it's Kalkstein's stuff. This little creature can change its form every day.” Roy pursed his lips. “It's not really useful now, but that might change soon. Well, don't pay any attention to the dog. Carry on.”

Chapter end