"Make witchers great again?"
Gerd was stunned. He had never dared to dream in the direction Lynn was pointing.
On this continent, the remaining, struggling witchers either chose to fall into depravity like the School of the Cat, abandoning their codes and living day-to-day, or they were like the witchers of other schools, steadfastly clinging to their vows, yet fully aware that the glory days were over. Their kind was slowly fading away.
But now, a man was telling Gerd that witchers could return to their peak, to a ti when they could walk with their heads held high in the sunlight, receiving the flowers and applause of the people like knight-errants.
Gerd never considered himself a smart man. He didn't know if Lynn was a madman or a fantasist. But he had to admit, he was intrigued. If they had a choice, who would want to live like a sewer rat, hiding in the shadows?
People blad witchers for everything: a woman's pregnancy, a miscarriage, a drought, a child kidnapped by slavers… If you didn't help a village kill a monster, you were called a cold-hearted beast. If you did help and asked for the agreed-upon pay, you were still called a cold-hearted beast.
Gerd knew the peasants had a hard life, but it wasn't the witchers who caused it. It was the lords who were squeezing them dry. Yet, these peasants had the courage to raise a pitchfork against a witcher, but not to grumble about their lord in private.
Perhaps a true Bear School witcher wouldn't care. Their Trial of the Grasses had a flaw: it erased a witcher's emotions. This was the closest thing to the ignorant people's stereotype of them. But for so reason, despite being a Bear School witcher, his emotions burned like fire, which was a constant source of inner turmoil for Gerd.
But if the good tis for witchers could truly return—if they could get paid fairly and be respected, the re thought of it was infinitely wonderful.
Yet, it felt so incredible that Gerd found it impossibly distant. Was it really possible?
Lynn smiled. "Do you think my plan is a little... far-fetched?"
Gerd nodded honestly.
Lynn's smile widened. "I helped the Kaer Trolde clan divide their power, I defeated a Nilfgaardian fleet, and I used my connections to deal with Duchess Helena, so you no longer have to worry about being hunted by the Duchy of the Curved Shore. Aren't these things enough to prove my capabilities?"
Gerd had to admit Lynn had a point. He was right. The goal was distant, but how could they ever achieve it if they didn't even try?
"Alright, I'm with you," Gerd said, a grin spreading across his face. "Damn it, maybe we really can carve out a future for the generations to co."
"Don't you worry," Lynn said, a promise in his voice. "There will be bread, and there will be milk."
After returning to Kaer Trolde with Gerd, they inford Count Torgier that Aethelard Castle had been cleared. Although the Count begged them to stay, the two of them bid their farewells after two more days.
Finally, they were off to the Druid Circle on Ard Skellig. Lynn had to constantly remind himself that his original purpose for coming to the Isles was, in fact, the Druid Circle.
When they arrived, Lynn encountered a familiar stranger. The man wore a tall hat decorated with tree branches and a ticulously grood beard of gray and white. His face looked lively despite his obvious age. He wasn't wearing armor or the extravagant silks of a lord, but a simple robe made from animal furs.
"Young n, is there sothing you need at the Druid Circle?"
"Yes, Master Mousesack," Lynn said respectfully. There weren't many people on this continent he felt a genuine reverence for. Vesemir was one. And this old druid was another.
"You know ?"
Lynn told a small lie. "Geralt speaks of you often."
In truth, Lynn was more than familiar with Mousesack's appearance. But saying Geralt had ntioned him wasn't entirely a lie. Long, long ago, when Vesemir wasn't yet the grandmaster of the School of the Wolf, Kaer Morhen received an invitation from the King of Kaedwen for the witchers to participate in a tournant. The invitation was a trap.
The king, swayed by a devious sorcerer, had bribed a few witchers from the School of the Cat to turn on the wolves during the tournant. Once they had thinned each other's ranks, the king's soldiers would finish off the rest.
When Vesemir and the Cat School leader arrived, they imdiately felt sothing was off, but the King of Kaedwen quickly had them both imprisoned. As the king had hoped, the tournant began.
The Cat witchers, lacking their leader's restraint and having been paid, quickly turned brutal. The Wolf witchers, with their leader missing, also lost their tempers. The contest quickly devolved into a bloody massacre.
Just as the two sides were locked in a desperate struggle, the king's soldiers sward in. They didn't care if a witcher was from the School of the Wolf or the Cat; they just killed them all.
A young Geralt was present at the ti. Just as it looked like he was about to et his end, Mousesack, who had been invited as a guest, intervened. Although the King of Kaedwen was intent on wiping out all witchers, druids held a position on the continent no less respected than that of sorcerers.
If a revered druid were to be hard in his kingdom, he would have a difficult ti dealing with the Druid Circle later.
So, the King of Kaedwen imdiately ordered his soldiers to give Mousesack an opening. It was in this way that Mousesack was able to escape with Geralt. It was this shared experience that forged a strong friendship between the two.
"How is Geralt? I haven't seen him in a long ti. How is he doing?"
"He's fine, apart from a few new scars."
"That's good to hear." Mousesack's mood lifted upon hearing his old friend was alive.
He then glanced at Lynn and Gerd again. "If I'm not mistaken, you two are the witchers who recently helped the Isles fend off the Nilfgaardian invaders?" He smiled. "In fact, I've known about you since the mont you both arrived on Skellige."
(End of Chapter)
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