November 6, 1260.
Roy sat on the edge of the rooftop terrace at Wols Tavern, bundled in a thick ocher coat, his legs dangling and swinging over the drop as he held a picture in both hands.
It showed two smiling faces pressed together: Roy and Toya.
On November 1, he had secretly taken the girl to the large house of a dwarven wine merchant, without the miller and his wife knowing, and they'd enjoyed an extravagant New Year's feast together.
The scene from that day still lingered in his mind.
They'd drunk their fill of mead, sung a string of silly songs, and posed for a terrible artist. Then, hand in hand with a crowd of bearded dwarven men and women, they'd danced the Mahakaman "Furnace Dance" around the courtyard bonfire for most of the night.
The next day, Toya woke from the first hangover of her life and was sent off in a carriage bound for Aretuza.
"Roy, how am I supposed to contact you once I get there?" Before leaving, the girl leaned out of the carriage window and grabbed his arm. Her small, round face looked on the verge of tears, and her bright, dark eyes flickered with excitement, unease, and reluctance to leave.
"Witchers never stay in one place for long." Roy patted the little girl on the head and joked, "If I get the chance in a few years, I'll visit you in Aretuza. I hope you'll show me some real magic then."
"Then it's a promise!" For the first time, a hint of mischief crept into the girl's voice. "Once I'm back to normal, if you don't come, I'll hunt you down anywhere in the world!"
Back in the present, Roy stowed the picture away in his storage space and touched the silver pendant around his neck.
Not long ago, he'd finished his lessons at House of Cadell and said goodbye to Faywen, Tom, and Cadell. Whatever the headmaster had been thinking, the Revolutionary Army had completely disappeared from sight lately. Perhaps the leader's corpse had frightened some of them.
New Year's in Edessberg had passed peacefully, with no more marches, demonstrations, or street brawls.
Roy had given up his room at the Mill. He'd taken the miller and his wife's daughter away, but hadn't left them a single coin as punishment for abusing her. If they wanted to come after him, they were welcome to try—as long as they could find him.
Roy didn't plan to continue working at the market, either. His studies of the Common Script had come to an end. He knew enough words to make sense of the notes in the Witcher's journal, and now he planned to focus on mastering the potion recipes inside.
He came down from the rooftop and entered the tavern hall. A strange sense of familiarity washed over him.
The New Year had passed, but the revelry in the tavern went on.
A bard in pointed shoes and striped tights leaned against the wall, plucking his lute and playing a lilting tune.
In the middle of the dance floor, a group of burly men clutched mugs of beer topped with foaming white heads and swayed wildly to the music.
Hops flew, lights and shadows mingled. Several heavily made-up women wore tight corsets that revealed expanses of pale skin. They hiked up their voluminous skirts and, when the men teased them, sometimes snapped back with half-hearted scolds before breaking into flirtatious laughter and beckoning with their fingers.
In a corner of the bustling tavern sat a figure who didn't fit in at all. A table for four stood before him, crowded with a dozen or so brimming mugs of different-colored drinks, but he was the only one raising a glass.
Beneath Letho's gleaming bald head, his stern face made him look as if he were shut away in a cramped room. His burly, broad-shouldered frame, with a sword strapped to his back, was as solid as stone and radiated a chill that warned strangers to keep their distance.
"Drinking alone? Let me keep you company..." A woman's giggle followed as she pressed her alluring body against the man's right arm.
Letho glanced sideways at her. The familiar smile softened his expression a little. "Sorry, I'm not in the mood today. I'll take you up on it next time..."
"You're so heartless. We haven't seen each other for over a month, and now you're treating me like a stranger... I still remember that strong body of yours."
"Hehe, why's your arm so stiff? Relax. Leave everything to me..."
With a sweet smile, the woman cozily rested her head on his shoulder. Then she craned her neck and noticed the patches of long-dried blood on his leather armor, still giving off a foul smell.
But Witchers were all like that, and the woman had grown used to it.
Her gaze dropped to the floor beside the Witcher's right hand. A huge, bulging bundle sat there, looking ready to burst. Its blue surface seemed to be damp with faint streaks of crimson. Curious, she asked,
"What's that?" As she spoke, she reached for the bundle, but before her hand got halfway there, another arm, thick with corded muscle, clamped around it.
"Woman, control your curiosity. Don't ask what you shouldn't."
Letho's voice remained flat, but the unfamiliar warning in his eyes made the woman look like a mouse who'd spotted a cat. Her body shuddered, and she hurried to her feet.
She pursed her lips and shot the Witcher one last resentful glare. "You sleep with me and then act like you don't know me! Don't expect me to keep you company next time! Hmph!"
With that, she darted into the dance floor and started laughing and flirting with other men.
Letho wasn't annoyed. Women would always be passing visitors in his life, nothing more than a diversion.
Suddenly, he sensed someone's gaze. His amber eyes swept across the dance floor and met a pair of eyes on the other side.
"Kid, has it really been a year since we last met? How'd you grow so fast?" The Witcher watched the boy approach and held his thick hand beside his own chin to mark the difference. His keen senses told him the boy had changed enormously. The frail build he'd had before was now well-proportioned and full of vigor. His eyes were bright, his face ruddy, and he looked much livelier than before.
An ordinary person would need six months to a year of uninterrupted training to undergo such a dramatic change in physical condition. Yet the boy standing before him had been away from Kaye Village for less than two months.
"I remember it being over two years. One month and two years?" Roy dropped into the seat beside Letho and picked up a glass of sweet-and-sour fruit wine. He took a couple of sips. "So, I've lived on my own in Edersberg for all this time. Does that mean I passed your test?"
"You've managed pretty well on your own." The Witcher nodded.
Roy's gaze fell on the strange bundle the woman had been eyeing. He sniffed like a hound.
"You left me on my own for over a month just for this?"
"Guess what's inside."
A challenging glint appeared in Letho's eyes.
"You've handled it properly and gotten rid of most of the smell, but you couldn't hide that rank, fishy odor. The bundle's full of... hmm... Monster organs and tissue, right?"
Letho simply tossed the bundle over. Roy scrambled to catch it and opened a gap. His arm jerked, and he nearly dropped the thing on the floor—
The first thing he saw was a huge eyeball, about the size of a fist. Its surface had been treated until it was smooth and dry. When he felt behind it, he could make out thin, crimson nerves and capillaries like sandworms.
Roy glanced around. Seeing that nobody was paying attention, he stuffed the eyeball back inside, then carefully pulled a fluffy yellow paw from the bundle. Its underside had springy pads like a cat's, and three sharp, black, hook-shaped claws jutted from the front. They felt hard to the touch, and the paw was about as long as a human hand with the fingers outstretched.
Roy could almost picture how easily those claws could slice through a person's protective leather armor and tear out their innards.
Besides the eyeball and paw, the bundle held an oval heart and a bloodied beast's head, its long beak removed and its brown mane still attached.
"A Griffin..."
The huge bundle was packed with the Griffin's most valuable body parts.
Roy's lips moved slightly.
"You spent over a month hunting a Griffin? Was this to prepare my Pre-medication?"
He felt a little touched. Letho had actually gone and fought a Griffin alone.
Griffins were proud, vicious, sharp-nosed, and strong. Their claws and beaks were like steel, and they had no obvious weaknesses. They were deadly to any Witcher.
Roy also felt a pang of regret. He hadn't been able to take part, but even watching the fight up close would have been a valuable experience.
"Were you hurt?"
"The hunt had its twists and turns, but the result was perfect." Letho shook his head. "Come on. I'll teach you how to break down these materials, and see if you've been slacking off lately."
Before you continue