Potions

The witcher first booked a room at the inn, went upstairs to stow his luggage, and briefly processed the griffin's tissue samples.

Then he began questioning Roy about his recent experiences in Edersberg, the latter focusing on the "Child Hunter Ghost" he'd encountered under the Horn Tree at House of Cadell.

"You got lucky. That thing's combat ability and danger level are about the same as a Drowner's, perfect for a novice like you to practice on," Letho said in a low voice. "As long as you avoid its fangs and claws, and make good use of fire and salt, you can take it down easily. Using a Dancing Star on it might be a bit wasteful, but you survived and it died—that's worth it.

"Kid, you handled the House of Cadell business beautifully," Letho praised sincerely. He wasn't referring to Roy's fighting performance under the tree hollow, but to the process of analyzing clues and uncovering leads throughout the whole affair.

A witcher who uses his head lives longer than one who only uses his fists.

Next, Roy brought out the lump of yellow, cheese-like vomit he'd happened to take with him and showed it to the witcher.

The witcher analyzed it from every angle—smell, appearance, and so on—and clicked his tongue in amazement. "Child Hunter Ghosts are extremely rare. The only people I know who've hunted one are Oakes and Cerret, over fifty years ago, but unfortunately, they couldn't get fresh enough vomit."

He frowned. "The exact composition is unknown, but I can feel that holding it severely hinders the flow of magical energy inside me—I can't even cast a single Sign."

"There's too little of it to achieve its original 'stripping' effect, but it at least works like Demonic Gold, capable of restraining spellcasters and monsters that rely on magic to some extent... Some sorcerers might pay a high price for this stuff. It's your trophy—keep it safe." The witcher handed it back. "Better store it in a clay pot. When it's not fresh anymore, its effect will drop significantly."

Roy's eyes lit up at that, but he immediately felt regret—why hadn't he steeled himself to bring out the whole pile of "vomit" back then?

Still, he didn't need a clay pot to store it; he had a much better preservation method—tossing it into his space.

They chatted a bit more, and then the witcher took him to an open area outside the city to check his crossbow skills and herbalism knowledge.

Roy had already unlocked Crossbow Mastery LV1, and his nightly training had never stopped. His shooting posture, accuracy, and reaction speed were all impeccable for his short training period, so the witcher was naturally very satisfied.

As for herbalism knowledge, aside from the fifty-plus herbs the witcher had carved into his brain with Signs and taught him along the way with real examples, Roy had broadened his knowledge considerably while helping the fraudster Tross run his herb stall at the market. Every day, he handled common plants like Sage, Marigold, Belladonna, and Mandrake, and also encountered rarer herbs like Bidens flowers, Blood Moss, Buckthorn, and Four-leaf Paris.

By now, Roy had mastered the growth environments, medicinal properties, and appearance traits of over eighty herbs. This, too, left Letho with nothing to criticize.

His theoretical foundation in herbalism was solid enough—it was time for practice.

"You said you spent most of this past month at the school learning Common Script?" Letho rubbed his bald head. "That was my oversight—I forgot about that weakness of yours. Since you haven't started studying the potions in the notes yet."

"Then it works out perfectly. I'll teach you hands-on. Anyway, I've used up all my potions and alchemical bombs, so I need to brew some to restock."

"Oh, and there's the pre-medication for the Grass Potion. That's a troublesome job. You'll assist me then."

Pharmaceutics is a branch of alchemy.

The potions, decoctions, blade oils, and alchemical bombs produced by alchemy all require magical infusion, and some can only be used by witchers. But the products of pharmaceutics can be brewed and taken by ordinary people too.

Virtual alchemy only required gathering all the materials and pressing a button, and the finished product would appear in your bag. But unfortunately, the real world didn't have such luxuries.

Alchemy is an extremely complex craft, and its branch, pharmaceutics, is no simple matter either. It involves materials, tools, instruments, and techniques. Materials are further divided into bases, main ingredients, auxiliary ingredients, neutralizers, and so on.

The tools and instruments for brewing are even more complicated. All of these combined can be called an alchemical platform.

Letho spent a day buying some herbs, bottles, and jars in Edersberg, and rented a room, which he slightly modified into an alchemy lab.

When Roy entered the lab to look around, he was utterly stunned.

How was this any different from a kitchen?!

The first thing that caught his eye was the stove in the middle, fitted with a manual Bellows, with a conspicuous large iron pot set on top.

In front of the iron pot, at about waist height for the operator, sat a stone mortar, a sand bowl, plates, and a Gooseneck Distiller set up on a small stove.

On the top shelf to the right hung a clock for timing the herb decoctions. Next to the clock were various dried herbs needed for brewing potions.

On the second shelf to the right were pestles for grinding, used with the stone mortar in the middle to crush the herbs.

On the left side, past the Bellows rope that heated the central iron pot, the top shelf held jugs filled with Dwarven spirit, water, oil, and other liquids—different potions used different liquids as bases for boiling.

The second shelf on the left held vessels for storing potions and decoctions, in several sizes.

"This... this isn't what I imagined," Roy said hesitantly.

"Kid, what did you imagine? Have you seen a different alchemical platform somewhere else?" Letho asked, puzzled.

"I just think it's a bit too crude. Does our school in Gors Velen really use this same setup?" Roy found it hard to believe that alchemical instruments could be so... rustic. It felt like a backwoods workshop making contraband.

In his mind, alchemy should have at least a little to do with chemistry. There should be transparent glass test tubes, alcohol lamps, iron stands, and the like.

"You're not satisfied?" Letho's eyes flickered with surprise, unsure where Roy got the nerve, but he patiently explained, "The alchemical instruments at the School of the Viper are indeed higher-grade—complete and beautiful. But you have to understand, out here, conditions are limited. Meeting the basic requirements for alchemy is already no small feat."

"If a sorcerer were willing to lend out their alchemy lab, that would be another story. Most of those folks have obsessive-compulsive tendencies and demand extreme precision in every detail, so they usually own the most refined equipment."

"But this setup here is more than enough for a beginner like you." The witcher suddenly reached out and tapped Roy on the forehead, his tone firming. "Now focus. I'll demonstrate the brewing process for the simplest, most basic potion—the Marigold Potion."

Roy rubbed his forehead, perked up, and watched intently.

Letho first took a bag of Marigold and Nettle, placed them on the right-side platform, weighed out specific amounts with a Scale, and put them into the stone mortar one after another. He crushed and ground them with the Pestle, then handed the sample to Roy to examine.

The degree of grinding also mattered—too coarse would affect the potency, too fine risked overcooking and ruining the brew. Under these crude conditions, controlling it relied solely on experience.

Once Roy had seen enough, he added a quarter of water to the central iron pot, poured in one ounce of ground Nettle and two ounces of Marigold, and stirred evenly with a spoon. The liquid turned into a pale yellow suspension.

Then he pulled the Bellows rope to ignite the charcoal under the pot, glanced at the clock, and waited quietly.

Roy seized the opportunity to ask about all the quantities involved—the amounts of the main ingredients, Nettle and Marigold, and the amount of the water base.

The witcher explained each one, then quizzed him in return to test his grasp of the two herbs involved in the brewing.

After a quarter of an hour, the liquid in the pot still hadn't boiled, but a faint, pleasant fragrance was already wafting from it.

Letho immediately killed the flame, gripped the iron pot's handle, and poured the liquid into a finger-length translucent snake-neck bottle. His muscle-corded arm was astonishingly steady—not a single drop splashed out, as if a burly man were knitting a sweater, every stitch perfectly placed.

Then he cleanly corked it.

From Roy's perspective, the entire brewing process could be summed up as: fill a big iron pot with water, add ingredients, pull the bellows rope, light the fire and boil, then take it off and reduce the liquid.

A slightly absurd thought popped into his head.

If he'd watched the whole process from behind the man, he might've thought the bald giant was a chef cooking up some exquisite dish.

"Marigold Potion—taken internally or applied externally, it speeds up wound healing and prevents infection... far more effective than just smearing or eating marigolds raw." Letho shook the snake-neck bottle, looking satisfied. "As the most basic and widely useful potion, you need to master it. After all, your scrawny frame can't handle alchemical concoctions like 'Swallow' yet."

"It's more like a herbal soup than a potion," Roy muttered inwardly, then looked at Letho expectantly. "How effective is it, exactly?"

"You'll know once you take a bottle after getting hurt," the Witcher said. "If the wound isn't too bad, it'll probably cut healing time in half."

"Should I give it a try?"

The Witcher stepped aside from the alchemy station.

Roy rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a bag of marigolds and a bag of nettles from the side, and approached the alchemy table to replicate the process from memory. He measured the amounts and ground the two herbs into powder with the pestle.

He thought he had the procedure memorized and felt no difficulty, but as soon as he started, problems cropped up. Just weighing the right amount on the scale took considerable effort, and he was much slower than the Witcher.

After barely managing to measure the herbs, he had to grind them with the pestle—but how fine exactly?

"Uh, maybe a bit coarser than mill-ground flour?" He pounded the herbs, stealing a glance at the bald man beside him, hoping to catch some hint.

But the other man was ready for it, expressionlessly tilting his chin to signal him to continue.

"Sigh..."

No use being anxious. Roy decided to let go and follow his instincts...

A quarter pot of water—pour from the kettle for ten seconds.

Low heat—pump the bellows three times.

A quarter of an hour later, half a pot of steaming herbal soup was ready, giving off a strong, shit-yellow color and a pungent, burnt smell.

Roy's face was dead serious. Last time, Letho's brew had been a light yellow with a pleasant fragrance.

How could the gap be this big? But he wasn't discouraged—failing on the first try was normal.

He steeled himself and poured the contents into the bottle. In the process, he put his fingers in the wrong spot, got burned by the iron pot, and some liquid splashed out.

He ignored it, slowly poured the rest into the snake-neck bottle, gave it a quick shake, corked it, and placed it on the alchemy table with a passable imitation of professionalism.

"This is Marigold Potion? Can it reduce inflammation and stop bleeding?" Letho took the bottle expressionlessly, examined it closely, opened it, and sniffed. Then, the muscles in his face visibly twitched. "Kid, I think the only effect this bottle has is as a laxative."

"Unacceptable!"

"Again!"

Thanks to Windfall Suya and Lone Moon Cold Sky Water for their support! Thanks to everyone for your backing!