February, 1234.
If you had traveled the road from Novigrad to Kaer Morhen during this time, or if you lived in one of the many villages between the two, you would most likely have seen a white-haired Witcher carrying two swords and a Black-Robed Mage riding past on horseback.
Don't misunderstand—they were not traveling companions. Though they were indeed traveling together, the Witcher did not consider the Black-Robed Mage his companion at all.
"You're practically my boss!"
"Am I not?" The Black-Robed Mage looked up from his book at the Witcher and smiled. "Don't forget, Geralt. It's been months now, and the monster you've killed most often has been the kind of Drowner that even a child with a crossbow could kill."
At those words, the Witcher fell silent. Though he hated to admit it, the "Drowner Slayer" title given to that sewer keeper in Novigrad was quite fitting. He had killed so many Drowners lately that even he had begun to doubt himself.
Am I a Drowner hunter or a Witcher?
Putting that aside, their destination was Kaer Morhen. It was an ancient castle, the training ground of the School of the Wolf's Witchers. Geralt had spent his childhood there. He was returning now to see Vesemir—though he was not sure whether that energetic old man would be there. But even if he was not, Geralt could still clean the castle and leave behind supplies, so that Eskel and Lambert, should they return, would have something to eat.
Besides, the Pterosaurs in the mountains beside the castle had troubled them for long enough. The Witcher planned to kill them that spring, as an explanation to the Black-Robed Mage—he had nearly forgotten the terms of their original deal. The Mage had merely said he wanted to see how Witchers killed