"My name is Vesemir. You can also call me Uncle Vesemir. Today, all the witchers and future witchers have gathered here for the witcher training held once every fifty years..." Vesemir was delivering a loud speech to the children below the wooden podium, but they seemed uninterested. These children, aged around six to ten, did not really understand what a witcher was. The vast majority were orphans or had unexpectedly come into the witchers' care through the Law of Surprise, so naturally, they were deeply unfamiliar with and distrustful of Kaer Morhen and these witchers. "Next, you will be divided into groups of ten. Each group will be guided by an experienced witcher serving as its mentor. Step forward when I call your name..."
"Group four! Lambert of Beauclair, Geralt of Kaer Morhen, Yavi of Fislo, Eskel of Bardov, Bartel of Hengfors, Diderick of Glibber, Jarp of Ban Glean, Roggeveen of Roggeveen, Henry of Skalitz, Hans of Rattay, step forward! Kharkov will lead the ten of you!"
After waiting for ages, Yavi finally heard his name and stepped forward. The other nine stepped out as well. I never imagined I'd become a witcher in the same class as Geralt, the 'White Wolf' who was so famous in my previous life. Lambert and Eskel were witchers who appeared in the story, too. I haven't heard of the others, but why do those last two names sound so familiar? Yavi kept looking over the other nine, but to his surprise, he could not identify Geralt: not one of the ten had white hair. Could it have turned white only after he became a witcher?
Slightly puzzled, Yavi joined the other nine and lined up behind Kharkov. His assignment to Kharkov's group had most likely been Kharkov's idea.
By the time the sixty-odd young witchers had been divided into groups, the entire morning had passed. They ate lunch in their groups as well, with ten children seated around each long table.
Kharkov came over with his meal and sat down. The ten children, all strangers to one another, wore varied expressions. Apart from Yavi, most were somewhat afraid of Kharkov. After all, his stern, commanding expression was rather intimidating. Several children exchanged glances, unsure what to do...
"I know you're strangers to one another and know even less about me, but for the next few years, we will live, study, and train together!" Kharkov swept his gaze around them again. "I hope you can trust one another, remain loyal to one another, and help one another through the final trials. Only then! Only by understanding teamwork will you have a better chance of passing the trials and becoming qualified witchers. That's all I have to say. Our formal training begins tomorrow."
Early the next morning, Kharkov came to the attic, where the ten children were still fast asleep. Yavi had moved into the dormitory the previous night as well. In his words, it would help him fit into the group.
Kharkov clapped his hands. The crisp sound immediately shattered the children's sweet dreams, and they clambered up one after another, bleary-eyed. "You have ten minutes to get dressed and wash. Meet me in the courtyard in ten minutes. Anyone who's late will run twice as far this morning." With that, Kharkov turned and went downstairs toward the courtyard without looking back. At his words, everyone immediately began dressing as quickly as clockwork toys. Some were so afraid of being late that they skipped washing altogether and raced toward the courtyard. Yavi also dressed briskly, dabbed on some water and gave his face a quick rub in lieu of washing, then sprinted toward the courtyard. The others might not know, but he knew perfectly well that Kharkov was a man of his word. If he dared say something, he would certainly carry it out.
Looking at the ten panting, breathless brats, Kharkov nodded in satisfaction. "Very good. You've amply demonstrated your ability to follow orders and your sense of time. As a reward, you'll have half again as much time for breakfast. Now jog ten laps around the courtyard. Start running, now!"
After shouting, he pointed to the right, and the ten children began running counterclockwise in that direction. The courtyard was not particularly large and usually served as the witchers' training grounds, but a single lap was still at least five hundred meters. Before long, masks of agony appeared on all ten running children's faces...
After the morning run, the children collapsed onto the ground one after another, their faces deathly pale as they gasped for breath. Several even fell flat on their backs, unwilling to move so much as a finger. Sweat soaked their coarse linen training clothes, and their wet hair clung to their foreheads. They looked just like a litter of kittens freshly fished out of the water.
Kharkov looked at the children sprawled across the ground and nodded. "Rest a little. Even harsher training awaits you after breakfast!"
Under this intense daily training, Yavi and his companions rapidly improved their physical fitness. They were growing children to begin with, and as long as they received enough nutrition, their bodies developed quickly.
Autumn had only just arrived in Kaer Morhen, and the castle walls gleamed with a cold, iron-gray light in the dusk. Three months had passed. The courtyard's beeches had turned rusty red, and fallen leaves swirled over the sandy training grounds like a troupe of weary dancers.
Yavi was drenched in sweat as he practiced slashing when he suddenly received a message from Kharkov telling him to go to Professor C's study. Upon receiving it, Yavi immediately gave himself a quick rinse to wash off the sweat, changed into a clean linen shirt, and arrived at the study door.
"Come in!"
Professor C's aged voice came from behind the door. It seemed he had already sensed Yavi's arrival.
"I'm here, Professor C. What did you need me for?"
Yavi saw dust floating in the study, forming a hazy curtain in the slanting sunlight. Professor C sat in his office chair with his back to the door, his twiglike fingers stroking an ancient leather-bound book on his knees.
"I've been observing you these past few months, occasionally probing you with magic. Were you aware of any of this?"
"Well... I really didn't notice anything..."
Yavi was rather puzzled. When did Professor C start paying so much attention to me?
"From now on, you can skip training every Sunday. Come here, and I'll see whether I can awaken some of the magical potential within you. At the very least, you must be able to safely undergo the infusion of magic during the Trial of the Grasses later."
"All right, Professor C. Thank you for looking out for me. I've been wanting to learn more about magic, too."
After exchanging a few more words with Professor C, Yavi returned to the courtyard to continue training.