"Though I'd very much like you to begin your research right now—" The Witcher shrugged, holding the donkey's reins as he walked along the road. "—I'm afraid I need to deal with this Kikimore first."
"Mm, a Kikimore." He Shenyan studied the enormous spider-like monster with great interest. Its dark brown carapace was rough and uneven, one of its four long legs was missing, and two rows of spikes covered its back.
"What? You're interested in it too? But I'm afraid I need to take this thing to the local Mage's tower and let him have a look first," the Witcher said casually.
"I'm not interested in it. Frankly speaking, I think ugly Monsters like this ought to be exterminated." He Shenyan's words made the Witcher turn back and glance at him in surprise. "Kikimores are ugly, but there are uglier things out there. I don't think you have the time to kill them all one by one."
"What, did you take that seriously?" He Shenyan said with a smile, following behind the Witcher with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Mages usually don't joke," Geralt said.
"Mm, like I said, I'm rather different."
Geralt neither agreed nor disagreed.
They made their way to the foot of the granite tower. A huge door knocker hung from a grayish-white wooden door decorated with rose-colored patterns. It was shaped like the flat head of a bulging-eyed fish. A copper ring hung from its tooth-filled mouth. Geralt silently gave the taste of the Master Iliom he had never met a low score. He stepped forward and said, "Is Master Iliom at home?"
After a while, the fish head moved its toothy jaw, spraying out a puff of vapor. In a stiff voice, it said, "Master Iliom is not receiving visitors at present. Wait! Wait! Who are you?!"
The fish head's eyes suddenly moved, staring fixedly at the black-robed man standing behind the Witcher.
He Shenyan offered it an innocent smile, then looked at Geralt as if asking a question. Annoyed, the Witcher turned around, intending to leave this inexplicable tower behind and forget about the fish head.
A completely different voice suddenly came from the fish head's mouth. "Wait! Please turn around! Aha, it's you, Geralt! Who is the gentleman beside you?"
Geralt glanced at He Shenyan and decided to let him introduce himself. He made an inviting gesture. He Shenyan smiled but said nothing, merely standing where he was and snapping his fingers.
The door opened by itself, revealing deep darkness beyond it. He Shenyan returned the gesture to Geralt. The Witcher could not tell whether the two Mages were competing with each other, but he was more concerned with whether the Kikimore could fetch him some money. Gold bars could not be used at a tavern. They had to be exchanged for coins at a Dwarf bank in a large city.
The fish head let out a brief wail and vanished amid a cloud of green smoke. Geralt led the donkey into the dark tower with He Shenyan. In an instant, an entirely new scene unfolded before them.
White and pink flowers bloomed in the orchard, carrying the scent of rain. A brilliant rainbow split the sky in two, linking the dense canopy to the azure mountains in the distance. A neat little house stood in the center of the orchard, surrounded by thick hollyhocks. Geralt looked down and found himself standing amid knee-deep thyme.
He Shenyan commented in the tone of a critic, "Passable."
"What does that mean?"
"It means he did fairly well with this low-level illusion. At least he's not a fraud who only knows a couple of cheap tricks. Consider that me checking the goods for you. No need to thank me."
Well, he called himself a special Mage, but when it came to arrogance, they were exactly alike. Geralt thought to himself.
A voice said, "Oh! How did you—never mind. Sir! Please come over! I've prepared good wine! Right in front of the house!"
They entered the orchard and walked through the woods. Geralt's keen senses detected movement to his left. He turned and saw a naked blonde girl carrying a basket full of apples through the bushes. The Witcher stared intently at the girl's retreating figure, unable to take his eyes off her. He Shenyan said lightly beside him, "Stop looking. That's a scarecrow."
"What?"
"Just an illusion, my friend."
The Witcher promised himself that no matter what happened next, he would not be surprised again.
"At last, you're here. Hello, sir! And you too, Geralt, my old friend."
"Stregobor!" Geralt was still surprised.
In his long life, he had seen thieves like councilmen, councilmen like beggars, prostitutes like princesses, princesses like cows, and kings like thieves. But Stregobor had always—by every standard and every definition—looked like a Mage. He was tall and thin, slightly stooped, with extremely thick brown eyebrows and a long hooked nose. He always wore a black robe trailing to the ground, and that had not changed even after several years apart.
His sleeves were absurdly wide, and he held a long staff topped with a crystal. Every Mage Geralt knew was different from Stregobor, yet the surprising fact was that he truly was a genuine Mage.
They came to a porch surrounded by hollyhocks and sat in wicker chairs beside a white marble table. The blonde girl carrying the apple basket walked over, smiled, then turned and swayed back toward the orchard. Geralt continued staring at her without blinking.
"Sir, forgive me for failing to welcome you properly. Forgive me. May I ask what brings you here?" Stregobor's enthusiastic attitude made Geralt realize something. He did not rush to discuss his Kikimore, instead silently watching the blonde woman continue picking apples among the flowers while listening closely to their conversation.
"Nothing much. I'm merely wandering around."
"I understand, I understand. Someone as powerful as you must surely have your own purpose. Old Stregobor is merely a second-rate Mage."
"Ha!" He Shenyan burst out laughing.
He pointed at the blonde girl. "That is not something a second-rate Mage can accomplish, Mr. Stregobor. No need to test me, and no need to be overly modest. Just speak to me normally. I'm not the sort of person who gains power and then looks down on everything. As you can see, in this regard—"
He snapped his fingers. The girl became a red-haired woman dressed in tight black leather, with fiery red lips and a face more beautiful than any princess Geralt had ever seen—not to mention that figure. As Stregobor and Geralt both stared wide-eyed, they heard He Shenyan say, "—I've dabbled a little myself."
Stregobor forced himself to recover. He said dryly, "Uh, sir, forgive me. But you—you, how did you do that just now?"
He Shenyan looked at the old man and said softly, "Want to learn? I'll teach you."
Two more updates remained. I'll take a break tonight, eat something, then finish writing them.
Before you continue