Temporary Separation

"I know you're full of bright ideas and want to help Sile de Tansar deal with this troublesome issue," Letho said to Roy again after they left the dwarf's residence. "But this time, listen to me. Don't get involved. Witchers should remain neutral and not interfere in any political struggles."

"It's a principle, and it's also the way to conduct oneself and survive."

Roy found it rather amusing as he listened to the burly man's serious sermon.

He knew that in the future, Letho and his brother Oakes would personally break this principle by assassinating the monarch of a Northern Kingdom, completing a political struggle of the highest difficulty, and becoming a perfect example of what not to do.

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

Perhaps this principle of neutrality was one of the reasons why the Witcher schools were inevitably declining. With the world on the brink of chaos, who could stay out of it?

If he passed the Trial of the Grasses, Roy thought, he would try to make some changes to the school, to "keep up with the times."

The afternoon sun held the last trace of struggle from late autumn.

On the way from the wealthy district to Wols Tavern, they passed Prophet Lebioda Square, and a piercing wail made them stop.

According to the notices distributed by the cloaked figures last night, the so-called aspiring individuals should have gathered for a grand procession in the square. However, Roy, passing by, did not see the imagined scene of a bustling crowd; instead, it was a mess, like a tourist attraction after a swarm of people had left, littered with trash.

And a wailing woman.

A middle-aged woman with disheveled hair and a messy dress stared blankly at the sky. Her eyes had lost their focus. Her well-maintained face was flushed from crying, and her makeup was blurred by tears, making her look both comical and pitiful.

At this moment, the lady sat on the ground like a madwoman, gently patting the shoulders of a man leaning on her thigh, muttering incoherently and humming.

Several passing residents pointed and gossiped, their words a mix of pity and schadenfreude.

"The soldiers really went at him. That dark shield... smashed right on that guy's head. His bones must be shattered."

"Joining the protest and openly defying the baron? That's asking for death. Everyone else ran so fast, but that guy refused to budge!"

"I never thought such an honest fellow would have the guts to join the rebels..."

"Stop with the harsh words. He was good to everyone when he was alive. Besides, if there were no rebels, would our taxes go down? Show some respect for the dead!"

"Poor woman. She's lost her husband and has no children. How will she live?"

Roy's gaze swept over the motionless man's face. He hesitated to look at the woman's desperate and bewildered eyes.

"A pity... became cannon fodder for the revolution, leaving behind a widow. Who knows who'll benefit from her later!"

Letho's face showed no emotion. "Put away your sympathy. Haven't you seen enough corpses outside the city? Politics has nothing to do with us. Let's go, we still have things to arrange at the tavern."

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

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

"I can't do this commission without your help. According to Witcher principles, you have a share of the reward. 50 crowns, no more, no less."

"Share money again?" Roy was startled by the sudden surprise. Throughout the entire commission, Letho was the absolute protagonist, and he was at most a supporting character.

"Forget it, you keep it. We don't need to be so calculating between us." Since he started traveling with Letho, all expenses had been covered by the Witcher, and he hadn't spent a single Crown. The reward found on the peasant army, plus about thirty Crowns won playing Gwent in the tavern for two days, brought his personal stash to a total of 120 Crowns, so he wasn't short of money for now.

"I said it's a matter of principle. The spoils of war must be distributed fairly," Letho stared at him without blinking. "Furthermore, I am now officially informing you that starting tomorrow, you will be responsible for all your food and lodging expenses. I will not pay a single cent for you anymore."

"Are you kidding me?" Roy's face stiffened... No wonder the Witcher had been so happy to share the money earlier; he had been planning this all along. He didn't understand why.

"You brought me to Edersberg and then just left me? What does that mean?"

"We will prepare the Swallow potion and other necessary supplies for you, which will cost a lot of money. Several rare medicinal ingredients and monster mutations are still missing." Letho wasn't angry at the questioning and patiently explained, "Don't you feel it? Your training now is different from the Viper School's centuries-old tradition."

The burly man gestured clumsily in the air with his thick palm. "If we continued with the tradition, of course, we could provide you with the basic necessities. You would also be confined to Kaer Morhen for years of harsh training, with no enjoyment in life whatsoever. Oakes, Cerret, and I all agree that being in such a state for a long time would weaken a trainee's will to survive. The fact that no one has survived the trial in the past twenty years is related to this."

"Before the Viper School is completely wiped out, it's time to make a change... In the past, Witchers would start taking contracts to support themselves after passing the trial and leaving the academy. Now, this has become part of the trial. Supporting yourself with your own hands, understanding that life is hard-earned, will make you enjoy and cherish it."

"Only by forming a deep enough bond with the real world can one resist the death of the Trial of the Grasses," Letho concluded.

Roy was silent for a moment. The other man's reasoning was clearly flawed, yet he felt it made some sense. The two methods of training apprentices were like free-range and caged farming, but he still had objections.

"If I spend all my time working, where will I find the energy for training?"

"Haven't you been doing quite well on this journey?" Letho patted his shoulder. "Kid, I believe you can find a balance. Don't forget that the knowledge you've learned is enough for you to survive."

"Is this a kind of challenge?"

"If you wish, you can consider it a challenge, or a trial."

Roy compromised. After the initial anger, he felt a trace of excitement. Could he survive in a big city like Edersberg on his own merits?

"Are you planning to abandon me?" Roy pressed, sensing something unusual in the other man's tone.

Letho said, "Don't worry, I'm just leaving for a while. I need to find the ingredients for a pre-potion. The location is quite dangerous, and I'll be more efficient acting alone. So, you need to seize this rare opportunity. When I return, you'll only have time to be alone after you pass the Trial of the Grasses."

Roy gave a wry smile. So, it was because his own strength was too weak and he was holding Letho back that he was being left behind.

"What do you mean by pre-potion?"

"A less toxic adaptive potion taken before officially consuming the Swallow potion. It's a necessity and can slowly enhance the body's resistance to poison. Think about it, you can't just take the highly toxic Swallow potion right away, or no apprentice would survive."

Now Roy could mostly understand the Witcher's decision.

"How long exactly? Will I stop learning new things during this period?"

"One to two months at most. Wait a moment..." Letho took out a black notebook made of unknown animal hide from his saddlebag. "You already know quite a bit about herbs. It's time to start concocting potions. This book contains recipes for over a dozen potions, as well as descriptions of common monsters. It should be enough for you to study for a while."

"Ordinary people use potions, while Witchers use potions mixed with magic, known as decoctions and brews. This will also lay the foundation for learning alchemy in the future."

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

"Wait, do you still have that Dragon's Dream you used against the Water Ghost last time?" With the bodyguard gone, Roy needed some way to protect himself. "I need something to defend myself with while you're not around."

Letho considered for a moment before handing Roy another green glass jar.

"You can't use the Igni Sign, so the Dragon's Dream wouldn't be of much use anyway. The Dancing Star is more suitable for you. Once this breaks, it'll immediately unleash flames within a ten-foot radius... It'll burn for a long time, even underwater," Letho warned. "Be extremely careful when using it. Also, this is the last can in stock. The materials alone cost over a hundred Crowns, so unless it's absolutely necessary, save it as your trump card."

"I understand. Oh, how will I know when you're back?"

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

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

However, when he flipped open the black leather, the old notebook's densely packed, tadpole-like characters gave him a splitting headache.

He realized a fatal problem: he knew fewer than 100 common words, including Old Mol, Susie's names, and the dozens of herbs Letho had taught him. How was he supposed to self-study?