A Good Mother Like Vesemir

Who are my parents?

Ailin paused in closing the door, then looked up at Vesemir.

The candlelight was dim on the stone steps.

The Sorceress's face was serene, but most of it was shrouded in deep shadows.

The air was filled with the damp, slightly musty smell unique to ancient castles.

That was the smell of rats or other unidentified small animals, dried, rotting, and degrading in some unknown corner of this massive gray stone building.

Even the most diligent cleaners cannot prevent the castle from developing this smell.

Just like how, as people age, no matter how frequently they clean, they can hardly avoid the innate smell of old age.

A faint, sweet scent of cardamom drifted on the breeze along the stone steps, seemingly trying to mask the other aroma...

However, perhaps because the distance is too far, it is difficult to achieve complete coverage.

Or perhaps the proximity made the delicate fragrance seem all the more intense the faint stench of decay.

I don't know why, but I can smell the complex scents carried by the cool breeze from the castle.

Looking at the seemingly casual Sorceress before him, Ailin suddenly had a strong premonition...

perhaps...

Vesemir came so urgently using the portal tonight, yet lingered at the entrance for so long, precisely to ask this question.

Why was she in such a hurry? Why was she hesitant? Why was she afraid?

And why...?

"Why are you asking this all of a sudden? Does Lady Vesemir know my biological parents?"

After a moment of silence, he carefully observed Vesemir's expression and asked her a question out of curiosity.

"Perhaps I know her, perhaps I don't," the Sorceress said, smoothing a slightly disheveled strand of hair at her temple. The damp, slightly putrid smell in the air lessened somewhat. "But if you want to know, I always have a way to find her..."

She was dodging... The Witcher frowned, immediately realizing the problem.

But why is she dodging?

The witcher continued to observe the Sorceress's expression, but her exquisitely beautiful face remained unchanged. Her red hair and red eyes, which should have symbolized passion, were as calm as frost and snow on a high mountain.

As always.

It was as if he was pleading, not asking her a question...

He yearns to know who the person who is related to him by blood, yet has abandoned him and betrayed him, is.

This made him, an orphan for two lifetimes, feel extremely uncomfortable...

Does he really want to know?

"No need to trouble yourself for now, I'm fine," Ailin instinctively refused.

The Sorceress paused for a moment after lowering her right hand, then nodded and turned to leave without hesitation.

"Da da da~"

Footsteps tapped on the cold stone steps.

Watching the Sorceress's retreating figure, the witcher leaned against the wooden door, his right hand unconsciously stroking the smooth patterns, as if deep in thought.

But I didn't think about it for long.

"If one day..." A cold voice came from not far away, interrupting him.

Following the sound, the Sorceress stood at the corner of the stone steps, gently supporting herself against the dark gray stone wall.

"If you wish to find...them..." His red pupils gleamed with a complex light in the darkness as they met Ailin's gaze.

For some reason, the already disjointed sentences suddenly stopped.

The Sorceress remained silent for a moment, her small, thin lips parted slightly, then she quickly pursed them.

"Never mind, forget I said anything."

after.

To the Witcher's surprise, he said nothing and did nothing, only nodded slightly and said calmly, "Don't overwork yourself."

Then it disappeared from his sight.

Only the hurried footsteps, "tap tap tap~", faded into the distance and grew fainter.

The space in front of the wooden door was completely filled with a damp, slightly rotten smell.

"Bang!"

The wooden door was gently closed.

The candlelight flickered, casting shadows, and the teacups on the small brown round table were still steaming.

The Witcher sat back down in his high-backed chair at the round table, closed his eyes, and pondered his conversation with the Sorceress.

The Chief of the School of the Wolf, his biological parents...

To be honest, given his relationship with Vesemir and the Sorceress's past contributions to him...

In both of these topics, his responses to the rejections were rather abrupt and unfriendly.

But that's all Ailin can do.

Although the School of the Wolf is loosely structured, it is merely a place where many witchers ostracized by the outside world band together for warmth. In the eyes of others, the Chief is also a heroic figure who can be regarded as a moral exemplar.

Even the loosest organization is still an organization, and even the weakest right is still a right.

Moreover, from the perspective of the Witcher world, a well-trained armed group of nearly a hundred people with superb combat skills is actually a very considerable political force.

Even King Haxor of Kedwen, the ruler of a nation, was so wary of him that he wanted to get rid of him as soon as possible.

therefore.

There must be quite a few people within the school who have their own ideas about that position.

Besides, the chief himself is just an ordinary person, and his thoughts are always changing.

Therefore, even if it displeases the Sorceress, he must be careful in expressing his desires.

Revealing one's ambitions too early is not a good thing.

As for the biological parents...

Is Vesemir my mother?

The Witcher pondered.

He unconsciously tapped the surface of the round table with his index finger.

"Knock knock knock~"

The soft tapping sound echoed back and forth in the spacious room.

He had actually considered this issue several times before and after the Trial of the Mountains at the beginning of the year.

after all.

He was different from ordinary people like Vesemir.

Although it is widely known that becoming Sorceress results in the loss of fertility, he knew that Geralt would be an exception in the future.

Seeing Vesemir's repeated and deliberate acts of kindness, it's hard not to think in that direction.

While Sorceress may be able to give birth, there are no known examples of witchers giving birth.

Given Geralt's past promiscuity, if a Witcher had that ability, even with a very low probability, he would definitely have a large family.

Not to mention the fact that Sorceress and witchers have children.

then.

At the time, he immediately ruled out that possibility.

After leaving Kaer Morhen, he had little contact with Vesemir and stopped thinking about the matter.

But today.

Seeing Vesemir's unusual behavior, and recalling their time at the Temple of Melitele, where she had given him precious magical materials and worked for him almost for free, refining and selling Ghoul Sword Oil...

Ailin couldn't help but ponder this possibility regarding her origins.

"Could it be..." the witcher murmured hesitantly, "... Sorceress and a witcher can't possibly have a child..."

"But the Sorceress and..."

Halfway through his sentence, the Witcher couldn't help but open his eyes. Even though he knew he was alone in the empty room, he couldn't help but glance around guiltily.

Then he paused, but didn't say the next half of the sentence.

After thinking for a moment, the Witcher shook his head again:

"Although Sorceress are known for their rich romantic histories, I've never heard of Vesemir having any other partners..."

"On the contrary, Lady Vesemir, despite her notorious reputation, seems to have always been morally upright in matters of the heart."

"And..."

"Vesemir also mentioned that the relationship between Vesemir and the chief seems to have started to deteriorate about seven or eight years ago."

"I was already born by then."

Thinking of this.

Ailin shook his head violently.

really.

No matter how you look at it, Vesemir could not possibly be "his" mother.

I don't know why.

Although if Vesemir were "his" biological mother, the Witcher would certainly benefit the most.

But after ruling out that possibility, he actually felt a sense of relief.

"Then there's only one possibility left." Ailin's index finger, which had been tapping, suddenly stopped. "'I' am Vesemir, and possibly also the Chief, the child of someone we both know."

"Judging from his appearance, this person should be human."

"Therefore, considering the lifespan of humans, someone who knows the Crimson Fox and the chief of the School of the Wolf must be of high status... uh... perhaps the maternal side might also be Sorceress, which would explain why Vesemir treats me so specially..."

The more she thought about it, the brighter Ailin's azure Cat Eyes became.

"That's it!"

"Before the Trial of the Mountains, because he was my best friend's child, he naturally didn't want me to die..."

"It's understandable that he would be taught alchemy and rituals without reservation, and provided with all sorts of Magic Material ..."

"The production and sale of Ghoul Sword Oil a while ago was also like that..."

"I just don't know what their relationship is with Chief Vesemir to be able to do this. Could it be that they once saved Vesemir or Soyer's life?"

"Now you're suddenly coming to me, wanting to claim kinship, have you heard about the reputation I've made in Ban Ade, Vengerberg, or Arland?"

The Witcher speculated.

But it was just a guess; he had no intention of acknowledging any kinship.

Even if they could potentially be of considerable help to Ailin's cause.

They wield immense power, are incredibly wealthy, or possess formidable strength.

On the contrary, the more powerful and higher the status of someone, the more Ailin wanted to distance himself from them.

Because in the School of the Wolf, the origins of apprentices are all recorded.

Especially those arising from the Accident Law will be marked.

And "Ailin" was a blank in that record.

He was not a "product" of the Accident Law, meaning he wasn't forced to go to Kaer Morhen by his parents, but rather like Lambert in the previous game, who was used by his alcoholic father to pay off debts...

He was deliberately abandoned.

As for why he was abandoned, he didn't want to know, because given the death rate of the Witcher Trials at the time, sending him to Kaer Morhen was not much different from killing him.

therefore.

It wasn't just because he was a thirty-year-old time traveler who didn't have the habit of casually recognizing his father or mother, and therefore was unwilling to acknowledge them.

Both being orphans, he had lived a decent but not wealthy life in his childhood, and in his previous life, he had never thought of forgiving the person who abandoned him.

Having accepted the original owner's memories and learned about the "trials" and extreme pain the original owner had endured, how could he possibly compromise for a small gain? With the Witcher's Handbook, he didn't need to compromise because of these things.

Moreover...

He has no right to forgive.

The one who was qualified had already died while drinking the White Gull Potion and enduring the cruel pain of dissolving flesh and scraping away bones.

"Squeak~"

With a sigh, the Witcher rose and closed the terrace door that had been opened for the arrival of the Sorceress.

The room was filled with the subtle fragrance of cardamom.

The Witcher stood by the two-person-high wooden door on the terrace, inhaling the familiar scent that lingered around his nose. The scene that he had seen as soon as he returned yesterday involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

A steaming bathtub, a neatly laid-out bed, and a soft, plush rug...

"What bad luck, Ailin ..." the Witcher sighed again. "If only your mother really were Vesemir ..."

"Given her personality, even if it were some bullshit Accident Law of accidents, she definitely wouldn't hand you over to a witcher and let you suffer like this..."

"She will definitely use magic to tidy up the house perfectly, just like yesterday, and arrange everything so you can have a comfortable and happy home..."

"Unfortunately, she isn't."

"Of course..." the Witcher said with a self-deprecating laugh, "If your mother really was Vesemir, I probably wouldn't have been able to travel back in time either, although that wouldn't necessarily be a good thing for me..."

"So how should I put it..."

"I can only wish that whether you are reincarnated, time-traveled, or reborn, you will find a good family and a wonderful mother like Vesemir!"

After a flood of emotions, Ailin tidied up the room a bit, and then...

"Thump~"

"Thump~"

The heart began to beat rapidly again with its unique rhythm.

Relying on yourself is worse than relying on anyone else. There's still plenty of time, so I'm determined to complete a full cycle of [Beast Roar: Berserk] today.

"Squeak~"

The wooden door was opened.

The Sorceress walked into the Alchemy Room, looking somewhat dejected.

"Lady Vesemir!"

Suddenly a scream came from right in front of me.

A series of chaotic crashing sounds followed, causing her to inexplicably look up in annoyance.

Her silly, clumsy apprentice was frantically picking up the pieces that had been smashed on the alchemy table.

"She's already a qualified Sorceress, yet she's still so easily startled."

The Sorceress frowned, unable to resist the urge to reprimand her as usual.

Or you could just snap your fingers to test her resistance to sedation and mind spells.

But thinking about how I finally mustered the courage to try, only to be rejected time and time again, I lost all motivation to do anything.

Can't she tell?

Ailin... her child clearly resented her...

The resentment was so resolute, ruthless, cold, and chilling.

Even the hardest, millennia-old ice on the On the Blue Mountains during the dead of winter seems to be no more than this.

But what could she do?

She even felt that his resentment was justified...

No!

Not enough!

Resentment alone is far from enough!

He should even hate her, despise her, and use the silver sword he won to pierce her chest.

It's best to strike right in the middle of the heart, preferably with more than one sword strike.

Because she gave birth to him in hell, and then sent him to hell, the most dangerous, darkest, most negative, and most helpless abyss.

Even the "Master of the Abyss" is filled with regret, denial, and despair in this damned place...

Her Child of Miracle...

What kind of path did she force her Child of Miracle onto?

"Lady Vesemir, are you alright?"

The cautious voice coming from in front of her temporarily lifted her head from the abyss of regret.

"It's nothing..." The Sorceress waved her hand, not intending to scold her anymore. She forced herself to maintain the proper demeanor of a mentor, lowered her head, and walked straight to her room.

But unexpectedly...

A pair of gleaming brown women's boots appeared directly in front of her, blocking her way.

Um?

The Sorceress frowned and looked up coldly.

She was in a bad mood and didn't discipline her apprentice, but instead her apprentice dared to block her way.

"Margarita Laux Antillie!"

"What you up to?"