Keira's Apprentice

Gretka leaned over the workbench, eyes wide as the liquid in the bottle glimmered faintly blue beneath the magical lamps. When she reached out to touch the mouth of the bottle, Keira's hand shot out from behind and slapped hers away.

"Don't touch it. This isn't a toy."

Keira sat on a tall stool before the workbench, flipping open a heavy notebook. She was writing an observation log, her quill scratching across the page.

Line after line of neat, fine handwriting filled the paper. Gretka stayed quiet for a few moments, then her curiosity bubbled over like boiling water lifting a pot lid.

"Will drinking this let someone fly?"

Keira did not even look up. "No."

Keira rubbed her brow and glanced at the potion on the table. "Stop asking questions. Hand me the blue bottle on the table, and be careful not to spill it."

Gretka stood on tiptoe, cradling the deep-blue potion in both hands as she carefully brought it to Keira.

The bottle swayed slightly in her palms, leaving a thin trail of phosphorescent light along its inner glass wall. She paused to stare at it for a little longer.

Something was drifting in the depths of the dark-blue potion—greenish specks of light rising one by one from the bottom, like scattered stardust.

Thinking she had shaken them loose, she hurriedly set the bottle on the workbench. The bottle steadied, but the green stars did not disappear. Instead, they shone even brighter.

They slowly gathered toward the mouth of the bottle. Gretka took half a step back, and the points of light drifted in the direction she had moved, as though trying to follow her fingertips out.

"Teacher, it's glowing."

Keira's quill froze halfway to the ink. She set it down, turned on her stool, and watched Gretka cautiously extend a finger.

The lights gathered at her fingertip, following the slight movement of her finger as if drawn by a tiny force of attraction.

Keira took the potion from her hand, no longer looking languid but scrutinizing. She opened a drawer and removed another spare sample. "Try again."

Gretka took the spare sample. The green stars emerged once more, gathering above her palm and flickering faintly.

Keira watched the entire process from behind her, laying her fingers over the back of Gretka's hand. She felt the elements flowing toward the girl's fingertips in tiny currents. It was no accident.

Keira tapped her knuckles against the tabletop. This potion was part of her research from before the Lodge collapsed—a way to quickly test children for magical talent.

In the past, selecting sorceresses required experienced mages to put children through lengthy tests, which took an enormous amount of time and resources.

She had developed a more convenient method of detection for that reason, but before it could be put into use, mages had become public enemies. She lowered her eyes to Gretka.

She did not sound as though she had discovered a talented child, but as though she were confirming a subject she had long suspected and had not wanted to face. "Do you want to learn real magic?"

Gretka clenched her fists and nodded without hesitation. "Yes! I want to learn real magic!"

"Then you're not allowed to run off after learning only half of it."

Gretka shook her head furiously, her ponytail snapping back and forth. "I won't run! I won't run! I won't run!"

Keira was silent for several seconds. She flipped her notebook to the final page and wrote several lines in the blank space. Then she set down the pen and stood up. "I'll talk to Ron."

That night, Geralt was walking from the guest rooms toward the courtyard when Keira emerged from the direction of the laboratory as he crossed the stone path. They met beside a low wall. Seeing him, Keira stopped, crossed one leg over the other as she leaned against the wall, and resumed her usual languid tone. "White Wolf, I've made a major discovery." Geralt stopped and waited for her to continue.

"The child the sergeant major brought back has an unusually high affinity for magic. Not merely the level of an ordinary sorceress—she's talented enough that the old Brotherhood would have let her cut in line."

Geralt stood where he was and fell silent for a moment. "What, has Keira Metz taken a fancy to having an apprentice? That doesn't sound like you."

"Heh, who knows? I didn't expect it myself." She turned to leave, then paused and looked back, pointing a fingertip in Geralt's direction.

"Oh, and Brom, the manor's blacksmith, is a true master. If you're thinking of getting that battered junk on you repaired, go see him. But Brom doesn't take just anyone's work." Then she left, carrying her teacup.

Ron had just returned from the water-powered workshop and was sitting at the table reviewing the list of finished products it had sent over when Keira knocked twice and pushed open the door.

She explained the results of the talent test from beginning to end, from the activation of the potion to the elements actively winding around Gretka's fingertips.

She also explained how she had developed this rapid testing system years ago. She made no decision for Ron, merely laid the facts on the table.

Ron was silent for a long time after hearing her out. "She'll choose for herself. Whether it's alchemy, potions, magic, or something else, I won't make the decision for her." Keira nodded.

That night, Geralt placed a roll of parchment on Ron's desk, its edge tied with a cross knot.

When unfolded, it revealed an exceptionally neat transcription of alchemical formulas. Every line listed the required herbs, minerals, extraction ratios, and periods of use. The handwriting was concise and devoid of ornamentation.

"Before undergoing the Trial of the Grasses, witcher apprentices must go through years of intensive training. The supplementary potions taken during that time

can effectively improve strength, constitution, and recovery. They work on ordinary soldiers as well, though the dosage must be adjusted and reduced. After all, soldiers do not undergo the mutations that follow."

"You can give the formulas to Keira. She knows how to prepare them. With these formulas, you can quickly train qualified soldiers.

"You saved Ciri. I owe you a favor." Ron picked up the parchment, read it from beginning to end, then folded it and tucked it into his coat.

When Keira heard about it, she came out of the laboratory, glanced over the list, and pressed a finger against the section marked "reduced toxicity."

"With these potions, successful witcher apprentice mutations naturally neutralize the toxicity. Those who fail don't need to worry about it anymore. But ordinary soldiers are different. The exact dosages need to be tested and improved. I'll monitor the first group of users throughout the process."

She folded the parchment again and took it into her hand. "There's nothing wrong with the formula itself, and..." She paused and glanced toward the laboratory.

"This will be enough to lay a solid foundation for that little snot-nose's magical education. Leave the improvements to me. But you owe me a big favor, witcher." Geralt snorted through his nose and said nothing.

Keira left with the parchment, still muttering about whether some potion ratios could be altered to use varieties already grown at the manor.

A few days later, on an ordinary afternoon, Gretka and the girl with braided pigtails were crouching together near the herb garden, identifying herbs.

Keira poked her head out of the laboratory window and shouted, "Little snot-nose, today's lesson has already started! You're late again!"

Gretka sprang up from beside the herb garden and ran toward the stone house. The girl with braided pigtails chased after her for two steps and called out,

"Can I come see you after class?" Gretka raised a hand and waved twice as she ran, then dashed into the laboratory's blue glow.