"Here. Chew it up and smear it on yourself." Letho tossed Roy a plant with orange-red petals, his face expressionless. As he watched Roy rub his thigh with a miserable look, the corner of his mouth curled faintly.
After leaving Kaye Village, the bald giant had ridden at a gallop for dozens of miles. Only when dusk settled did he stop in a desolate stretch of wilderness.
The insides of Roy's thighs hurt terribly. When he lifted his pants to check, he found them covered in bright-red beads of blood. A large patch of skin had been rubbed raw by his coarse trousers.
His status panel showed that he had lost 5 Health Points, bringing him down to 37. His constitution was worse than an adult's, and he wouldn't be able to ride for several days while his injuries healed.
"I've never ridden a horse before, yet here I am sharing a saddle with a Witcher—one of those freaks. I must have a death wish."
"Master Letho, what herb did you give me?" Roy grimaced in pain as he chewed the herb vigorously. It tasted good, unlike most herbs, which were bitter. It had a faint, refreshing flavor.
"Calendula. Ever heard of it?" Letho tossed a piece of firewood into the bonfire and patiently explained, "It relieves pain and keeps wounds from getting infected. You can find it anywhere outside town."
Roy's eyes shifted as he silently committed the Witcher's words to memory. One reason he was willing to set out on this path was to learn practical knowledge like this. Witchers lived for many years, and their experience and memories were a treasure trove. He would pry it open little by little, turning what he learned into nourishment for his own growth.
Letho tossed him a few pieces of dry, hard jerky, then drank from his flask and silently chewed as he watched the distant dusk. Before long, he unstrapped the long sword on his back, used his arms as a pillow, and lay down on the grass.
With the sky for a blanket and the earth for a bed, he looked relaxed and at ease, as if this place were his home.
For a Witcher, roughing it in the wilderness was a way of life.
The faint scent of alcohol drifted past Roy's nose, and he couldn't help swallowing.
"Can I have a sip?" The herb on his thigh felt sticky and uncomfortable. Roy took the flask without hesitation and tried a mouthful. The moment the liquor went down, he stretched out his neck and widened his eyes, then stuck out his tongue like a toad.
"What is this stuff?" A strange mix of sourness and heat made him spit it out.
Letho's expression stiffened. "Kid, if you can't drink, don't waste it. I went to a lot of trouble to get this East of East from Boclan. Ordinary people never get the chance to taste wine fit for tribute like this. Learn to appreciate it."
"I don't think it's anything special. This wine doesn't taste good," Roy said honestly. "The fruit wine at the Old Captain Tavern is better. Even Dwarven spirit beats this stuff!" He then changed the subject. "You mentioned Boclan. If I remember right, it's in the Toussaint Duchy. Have you been there? Did you meet Duchess Anna Henrietta? Is she as beautiful as the stories say?"
Toussaint was where the later "Blood and Wine" story took place. Roy had vivid memories of its fairy-tale scenery, as well as its many higher vampires, its dizzying "cloud quakes," and the duchess's pretty face.
"I didn't meet the duchess, but I did meet her husband, Duke Raymond..." Letho glanced at him in surprise. "Kid, where did a country boy from Aedirn hear about the duchess?"
Toussaint lay within the Nilfgaardian Empire, a world away from Aedirn. Letho was increasingly convinced that something about this kid was strange, and that he was hiding a secret.
"I already told you the answer, but you refused to believe me."
Naturally, the Witcher didn't believe his nonsense about foreseeing things in a dream.
Roy hugged himself and edged closer to the fire, rubbing his palms together. "Master Letho, do all Witchers live as long as you?"
"Most of them die on monster-hunting contracts or in one kind of fight or another. Probably fewer than half make it to fifty."
Roy smiled faintly. He knew the Wolf School had a monster of a man who was over two hundred years old. Maybe other schools had one too.
"Are you regretting it yet?" Letho suddenly turned and stared straight at Roy. "You might die even faster on this path than you would as a farmer."
"To be honest... a little."
"Hm?" A faint trace of killing intent rose from the bald giant.
Roy hurriedly changed his tune and said seriously, "Sorry, I've had too much to drink. How could I possibly regret it?"
"My two old comrades have sent your parents to Novigrad, as agreed. If you dare change your mind halfway through... The School of the Viper doesn't have as many madmen as the School of the Cat, but we show no mercy to those who dare deceive or use us."
The meaning behind Letho's words was unmistakable.
"Relax, Master Letho. Let's talk about something else."
"I heard Witchers usually carry two swords. Why do you only have one on your back?"
Letho's expression grew even stiffer. "You should understand that each school specializes in different things. The School of the Viper favors defeating enemies with daggers and poison."
Roy continued staring at him without blinking. Letho spread his hands, his voice carrying a rare hint of helplessness. "I suppose you know this one too: one sword is made of steel or meteorite iron, and the other is a silver sword light enough to wield easily in one hand."
"Steel for humans, silver for monsters that are vulnerable to precious metals?" Roy asked.
Letho shook his head. "That's too absolute. Silver does work against some monsters, but steel is more effective against others."
"As for why I only have one steel sword on my back—do you know how much a silver sword costs? Even if it isn't forged from pure silver, but made of steel or meteorite iron and plated with silver, it's still expensive. The Viper School is in a much worse state than before, so every resource has to be put to good use. Like the investment we're making in you and your training."
Roy's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't sure whether having the Witcher take such an interest in him was good or bad.
"A proper silver sword is still a long way off for me. Actually, I'm more interested in a hand crossbow. Master Letho, do you know how to use one? Could you teach me?"
After more than a month of hunting without managing to learn a ranged weapon skill, he found it deeply disappointing.
Compared to melee weapons, ranged weapons like bows and crossbows were better suited to his strongest attribute: Perception. Incidentally, he had put the skill point he received at level 2 into a new skill, raising Observation to LV2 and his Perception bonus to 2.
"You're asking the wrong person, kid. The School of the Cat and the Bear School are the ones best at using hand crossbows and crossbows." Letho gazed into the darkness beyond the bonfire, his eyes distant, as if remembering someone he knew. "I can't say I'm an expert, but after a few decades, I've picked up a thing or two. I'll teach you in a couple of days."
As he spoke, Letho pulled a pouch of brown powder from his belt bag and traced a circle in the grass, enclosing the horses, the bonfire, and the two of them.
Roy twitched his nose. He caught a faint, sour stench.
"What kind of creature's droppings are these?"
"Good eye, kid! Pterodactyl droppings. Sprinkle this around, and ordinary wild animals won't come near. You can get a decent night's sleep."
Roy wrinkled his nose. The smell was better than what he'd encountered as a butcher's apprentice, so he could bear it. But when the cold wind swept through the wilderness, he couldn't help hunching his shoulders.
"Master Letho... Could you stop calling me 'kid' or 'boy' from now on? Just call me by my name."
That sort of address always made him feel as if he were still a little snot-nosed brat.
"You'll have to work hard enough to earn my respect first. Then I'll consider calling you something else." Letho didn't even look up as he replied. "From today on, you have to get used to all of this. If you're cold, get closer to the fire."
"Now, kid! I'm going to teach you the first lesson for a Witcher's apprentice."
"Talk less and think more. Never show your weaknesses to others, not even those closest to you... Shh—"
Letho suddenly put a finger to his lips and gestured for silence. Roy quietly strained to listen.
"Awoooo..."
A long wolf howl came from far off, then swiftly drew closer. In the blink of an eye, dozens of glowing eyes like fireflies appeared dozens of paces beyond the bonfire.
Roy held his breath and quietly gripped his loaded hand crossbow.
The eerie eyes watched the fire as they prowled back and forth, but they seemed held back by some invisible force and didn't dare approach the circle on the ground.
Letho traced a sign with his finger and cast Axii on the horse beside him. The horse, which had been snorting and growing restless, immediately calmed down and stood obediently still.
The wolves' snarling lasted only two minutes. In the end, they didn't dare charge. Whimpering, they retreated into the depths of the night.
"Those pterodactyl droppings work pretty well." Roy's thoughts began to race. With Letho as a free, superhuman bodyguard and pterodactyl droppings to drive away beasts, he could make the most of the situation and comfortably grind Experience Points in the wilderness. There were far more wild animals here than in the woods around Kaye Village.
That meant a massive amount of Experience Points. Besides, he still had some fresh meat and Anesthetic Powder in his storage space.
"Look over here, kid!" Letho's deep voice rang out without warning, and Roy instinctively obeyed.
Then an inverted double-triangle symbol filled his entire field of vision. An overwhelming drowsiness took hold of Roy. His eyes closed, and he drifted into a daze, completely lost.
The Axii Sign held for a moment. During that time, the Witcher's lips moved as he spoke at length to the boy in his dazed state.
But the night wind carried his words away, and they couldn't be made out.
Only then did Letho relax and let the Sign fade from his hand. He cracked the thick fingers of his carrot-sized hands, then pressed and kneaded the boy lying fast asleep on the ground.
Watching the boy's still-childish face in the firelight, his rugged features quietly softened.
He could barely remember the last time he'd taken on an apprentice. It had been more than thirty years ago, he thought. That child hadn't even survived the first round of the Trial of the Grasses.
Could this mysterious kid be different?
Before you continue