Temporary Parting

"I know you're full of ideas and want to help Seville Hogg deal with this tricky problem," Letho advised Roy again after they left the dwarf's manor. "But listen to me this time. Don't get involved. Witchers should remain neutral and stay out of political struggles."

"It's a matter of principle, and a way to conduct yourself and survive."

Listening to the big man's solemn lecture, Roy suddenly found it a little amusing.

After all, Letho and the Oakes Brothers would later break that very principle themselves, assassinating the monarchs of the Northern Kingdoms and carrying out the most difficult political struggle imaginable. They would become a textbook example of what not to do.

Even though the bald man before him still held to his principles, Roy didn't think that was necessarily a good thing.

Perhaps this principle of neutrality was one of the reasons the Witcher schools were bound to decline. With troubled times on the horizon, who could really stay out of it?

If I make it through the Trial of the Grasses, Roy thought, I'll try to change things at the school. We need to keep up with the times.

The afternoon sun held on to the last flicker of late autumn.

On their way from the rich quarter to Wols Tavern, they passed Prophet Lebioda Square. A piercing wail made them stop.

According to the notices handed out by the cloaked man the previous night, those so-called people of conviction should have gathered in the square for a grand procession. Yet Roy saw none of the imagined sea of people or clamor. Instead, the place was a mess, like a tourist site after a crowd had streamed through, leaving garbage scattered everywhere.

And a woman's wail.

A disheveled, middle-aged woman in a rumpled dress stared blankly at the sky. Her pupils had lost their focus, and her well-kept face was flushed from crying. Tears had smeared her makeup, making her look both ridiculous and pitiful.

At that moment, the woman sat on the ground like a madwoman, gently patting the shoulder of a man resting against her thigh. She kept muttering to herself in a low, dreamy murmur.

Several passersby pointed and whispered. Their words held both pity and schadenfreude.

"Those soldiers really didn't hold back. They slammed that black shield right into the poor bastard's head. Must've crushed his skull."

"Joining a procession and openly defying the baron? He was asking for trouble. Everyone else ran like hell, but that idiot refused to leave!"

"Who'd have thought that such a quiet fellow would have the guts to join the rebels..."

"Stop making heartless remarks. He was good to everyone while he was alive. And without the resistance, do you think our taxes would've gone down? He's dead now, so show some respect!"

"Poor woman. She's lost her husband and has no children. How's she supposed to carry on?"

Roy's gaze swept over the motionless man's face. He could barely bring himself to look at the woman's despairing, bewildered eyes.

"Too bad... He died as cannon fodder for the Revolutionary Army, leaving a widow behind. I wonder who'll get lucky with her now!"

Letho's expression didn't change. "Keep your sympathy to yourself. Haven't you seen enough corpses outside the city? Politics has nothing to do with us. Come on. There are still things I need to tell you back at the tavern."

As the two left the square, a man pushing a wheelbarrow arrived late and carried the body away amid the woman's wails.

Back in their room at the tavern, Letho took out a purse and set it on the table.

"I couldn't have handled this contract without your help. By Witcher principles, you're entitled to a share of the reward. Fifty crowns, no more and no less."

"We're splitting the money again?" Roy was startled by the unexpected offer. Letho had been the undisputed star of the entire contract; Roy had barely been more than a sidekick.

"Forget it. You can hold on to it. There's no need to be so particular between us." Ever since he'd started traveling with Letho, the Witcher had covered all their expenses. Roy hadn't spent a single crown. He'd earned some money searching the peasant army's bodies, then won about thirty crowns playing Gwent at the tavern over the last two days. With a total of a hundred and twenty crowns in his little stash, he wasn't short on money for now.

"I told you, this is a matter of principle. The spoils have to be divided fairly." Letho stared at him without even blinking. "Besides, I'm formally notifying you that starting tomorrow, you'll pay for your own food and lodging. I won't pay another penny for you."

"You're joking, right?" Roy's expression stiffened. So that was why the Witcher had been so quick to split the money earlier. But why was he doing this?

"You brought me to Edusburg and now you're leaving me to fend for myself? What's that supposed to mean?"

"We'll provide the Grass Potion and the other necessities. That'll cost a lot of money, and we still haven't found several rare ingredients and Monster mutagens." Letho patiently explained, unruffled by Roy's questions. "Haven't you noticed? Your training is different from the School of the Viper's century-old traditions."

The big man awkwardly gestured in midair with his broad, sturdy hand. "If we stuck to tradition, of course we could provide you with room and board. But we'd also have to lock you away in Gors Velen and put you through years of harsh training with no enjoyment in life at all. Oakes, Cerret, and I all agree that staying in that kind of environment for too long would weaken a trainee's will to survive. The fact that nobody has made it through the Trial in the last twenty-odd years is probably connected to that."

"Before the School of the Viper disappears for good, it's time for a change. In the past, Witchers only started taking contracts to support themselves after they'd completed the Trial and left the school. Now, that's become part of the Trial, too. Supporting yourself with your own hands teaches you how hard life is, so you can learn to enjoy and appreciate it."

"Only a deep enough bond with the real world can help you resist death during the Trial of the Grasses." Letho wrapped up his argument.

Roy fell silent for a moment. The man's reasoning was clearly nonsense, yet somehow it seemed to make a little sense. The two approaches to training apprentices were like letting them roam free versus keeping them penned in, but Roy still had his doubts.

"If I spend my time working, how will I have any energy left to train?"

"Have you not managed just fine on the road?" Letho patted him on the shoulder. "Kid, I believe you can find a balance. Don't forget what you've learned. It's enough to keep you alive."

"So this is a challenge?"

"If you want, you can think of it as a challenge. Or a trial."

Roy gave in. After his initial irritation, he actually felt a little excited. Could he survive in a big city like Edusburg on his own?

"Are you planning to leave me behind?" Roy pressed. There was something strange in the other man's tone.

Letho said, "Don't worry. I'll only be gone for a while. I need to find an ingredient for a Pre-medication, and the place is dangerous. I'll be more efficient on my own. So make the most of this rare opportunity. Once I'm back, you won't have any time to yourself until you've passed the Trial of the Grasses."

Roy smiled wryly. So he was still too weak and had been left behind because he was holding Letho back.

"What did you mean by Pre-medication?"

"It's a lower-toxicity adaptation potion taken before the Grass Potion. It's essential, and slowly builds your body's resistance to poison. Think about it: we can't just have you drink the highly toxic Grass Potion right away, or no apprentice would survive."

Roy could more or less understand the Witcher's decision now.

"How long will you be gone? Am I not learning anything new in the meantime?"

"Probably a month or two at most. Wait a moment..." Letho took a black notebook, made from some kind of beast hide, out of his saddlebag. "You already know a fair amount about herbs. It's time to start learning how to brew potions. This book has recipes for more than a dozen potions, along with information on the traits of some common Monsters. It should keep you busy for a while."

"Ordinary people use potions, while Witchers use magical elixirs and decoctions. This will also give you a solid foundation for studying Alchemy later."

"Kid, that's all I have to say. I need to hurry..." Letho patted him on the shoulder. "You're a disciplined person. Don't let me down."

"Wait. Do you have any more Dragon's Dream, like the stuff you used against the Drowner last time?" With his bodyguard leaving, Roy needed to find some way to protect himself. "I need something to defend myself with while you're gone."

Letho considered for a moment, then handed Roy another green glass jar.

"You don't know the Igni Sign, so you can't use Dragon's Dream properly. The Dancing Star is better for you. Once this thing breaks, it'll immediately unleash flames in a radius of ten feet... and it'll keep burning for a long time, even underwater." Letho warned him, "Be extremely careful when you use it. And this is my last jar. The ingredients alone cost over a hundred crowns. Save it as a trump card unless you have no other choice."

"I'll be careful. By the way, how will I know when you're back?"

"As long as you're still in the city, I'll find you."

The Witcher's confident figure disappeared from view. Roy put the Dancing Star into his Storage Space, feeling a little more secure.

But when he opened the black leather cover, the dense, tadpole-like writing in the old notebook made his head spin.

He realized there was a serious problem: he knew fewer than a hundred words in the Common Tongue, including the names Old Mol and Susie, as well as the dozens of herbs Letho had taught him. How was he supposed to study on his own?