Roy accepted Letho's invitation.
Becoming a Witcher was actually a pretty good choice. After all, he hadn't awakened any magical talent for sorcery.
It was just a little unexpected that the school wasn't the Wolf School he'd long admired and knew so well, but the School of the Viper—a school on the brink of extinction, known in the future for its poisons, daggers, and assassinations.
But opportunity waited for no one. Staying in this remote village would make it hard to improve his strength at a satisfactory pace. Before long, he'd also face the invasion of the Nilfgaardian army, and perhaps attacks from unknown Monsters. Such a fate was full of uncertainty.
By following Letho, a veteran Witcher, he could make rapid progress in strength over the next two or three years, at least. He could also learn a great deal about the Witcher profession, and if he passed the Trial of the Grasses, his strength would undergo a dramatic transformation.
What did the side effect of infertility matter?
Neither before he crossed over nor now had he ever given the matter any thought.
It didn't take Roy much effort to convince Old Mol and his wife. They weren't even forty yet, and they'd longed to see the big cities. They didn't have the sort of reluctance to leave their home that older people often felt; they were only a little nervous.
The Witcher's offer was a rare opportunity. The tricky part was that the old couple strongly opposed Roy leaving their side.
He wasn't yet fourteen. Even in this backward society, where children matured early, most boys his age still lived with their parents and depended on their protection.
Who would want their child to follow a Witcher into life-or-death battles?
Roy could only tell them a lie.
"Dad, Susie. I'm not going to follow Master Letho around fighting Monsters with a weapon, like you're imagining. I'll just be Master Letho's assistant. It's more or less like when I apprenticed with Uncle Fletcher, just with slightly different duties. Witchers don't really understand money. They have no idea how to manage the coin they earn from contracts, and often spend in a few days what takes us a whole year to earn."
Roy wasn't making that part up. Most Witchers were terrible at managing their income. Their knife-edge lives had taught them to enjoy the moment, and they often spent their contract money on drink, women, or even Gwent boards as soon as they got paid.
Maintaining armor and weapons, as well as replacing alchemical ingredients, was also a huge expense. Some Witchers were so strapped for cash they could barely make ends meet. Geralt of the Wolf School was one of them; now and then, he even needed a handout from one of his lovers.
"I'm only going to manage Master Letho's accounts, something like an employee at the Vivaldi Bank. And we won't be apart forever. I promise I'll visit you in Novigrad before long."
"Little Roy, don't try to fool your old man. You've never studied anything since you were a child. You can't even recognize all the letters, let alone do arithmetic."
Old Mol and his wife didn't look convinced at all. It was only after Roy, a high school student in his previous life, gave them a quick demonstration of basic math that they finally came around.
Everyone, including the Witchers, listened in utter bewilderment... Old Mol and his wife had no grounds left to argue, and tearfully believed Roy's tall tale.
It took the couple a day to pack up the valuables in their home. The farmland didn't belong to them, so they couldn't take it with them. In the end, they brought only a few sets of worn-out clothes, then took care of the remaining odds and ends.
They set out.
The group leaving Kaye Village was on its way.
Most of the villagers came out to watch. Many pointed and whispered, their words full of scorn and disdain.
Traditional beliefs were deeply rooted in these Aedirnian farmers. In their eyes, aside from helping people deal with Monsters on the rampage, Witchers were lowly freaks and ill omens.
People were prejudiced against Witchers, so they couldn't understand why Old Mol and his family would set out with one.
After the family decided to move, many villagers came to talk them out of it. Old Mol and his wife had wavered, but Roy had already lost faith in the villagers after what happened with the Butcher and his son. He patiently persuaded his parents, too. When it came to making decisions, he was far more decisive than the old couple.
Before they left, One-Eyed Jack, the only person Roy could call a friend, came to see him off and patted him on the head.
"Time sure flies. Seems like only yesterday you were a quiet, shy little kid. Now you've turned into a shameless, brave little rascal. I always knew you'd leave this godforsaken place sooner or later. Look at those bright, dark eyes. They remind me of what I looked like when I was young. They're full of ambition—and secrets."
Was he? Roy didn't think he was ambitious. He just had a few small wishes.
"You're leaving Kaye with the Witchers. I suppose you'll never come back. I'm an old man now, with creaky arms and legs, or I'd come with you and see what I could make of myself in a big city. Oh, and since you avenged my old friend with your own hands, your uncle's got something for you as a parting gift."
One-Eyed Jack reluctantly handed Roy a set of thirty-five Gwent cards.
"This Skellige deck's been in my collection for years. It doesn't have any Hero cards, but all the rare ones are there. Take it, and carry your uncle's hopes with you. Show the world what you can do with a Gwent deck. They hold Gwent tournaments in the big cities all the time. Use this deck to conquer them, lad!"
Roy solemnly tucked the cards away, then stashed them in his Storage Space. The deck was probably worth more than two hundred Crowns, so Old Jack's gift was a generous one indeed.
"If you get the chance, when you reach Novigrad, go to house number 320 by the city moat and look for an old fellow named Frank. Give him... give him my regards."
After that, Old Jack gave Roy one last, firm hug and waved goodbye.
As the wisps of smoke above Kaye grew fainter in the distance, an unfamiliar feeling stirred in Roy's heart.
This body, this half-soul, still felt some attachment to the place where it had been born and spent more than a decade. But that attachment was soon replaced by anticipation for the new adventures ahead.
After Old Mol and his wife clung to Roy and cried for a long while, they parted ways.
Cerret and Oakes took them in a carriage and headed north from Xiabosada, straight to Aedirn's capital, Fangerburg. From there, they would transfer to another carriage, travel west across Temeria, enter Redania, and continue on to Novigrad.
They had no choice but to travel by slow carriage. The journey would take quite a while, about a month.
Meanwhile, Letho and Roy traveled light, sharing a horse since Roy couldn't ride. They raced west through Edessberg, crossed the Mahakam Mountains, and headed for Cintra, the coastal region facing Skellige across the sea.
That was right—they were keeping it from Old Mol and his wife. They wouldn't be going to Novigrad just yet.
According to Letho, they needed to gather special ingredients for the Trial of the Grasses along the way, collect the mutagenic proteins of Monsters, and take the opportunity to assess and train the new apprentice.
Letho also had a secret investigation to carry out in Cintra. Once the old couple was settled, the two brothers, Cerret and Oakes, would make their way to Cintra to meet up with them.
This journey suited Roy perfectly.
"In 1260, Ciri, who'll be known as the Lion Cub of Cintra, will be eight or nine, and already engaged to Prince Cridas of the Kingdom of Verden."
He wondered if the little girl had run away from home yet.
He also wanted to see if she was really as ugly as she looked in the oil paintings.
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