"It looks like you really like this one."
Vesemir sighed softly, sorrow in his voice.
"This was a greatsword Bernjof forged to fit himself. Very few people could wield it to its full potential."
"Bernjof?" Arwen glanced at the information from [Blade Perception]. "One of the seven heroes carved into the castle wall?"
"That's right. He was an old friend of mine, built bigger than a bear. Sadly, he fell in the massacre."
"Vesemir, what exactly happened back then?" Arwen returned the greatsword to the weapon rack.
Vesemir raised his head. "Have you heard of 'Monstrum, or a Description of the Witcher'?"
Arwen froze for a moment, then quickly nodded.
He had seen the pamphlet in a corner of the witchers' library, and it had appeared several times in The Witcher games as well.
It was fair to say that, aside from their own failings, this pamphlet was responsible for most of the witchers' terrible circumstances.
"In 1192, thirty-eight years ago, King Io still ruled Kaedwen. He was a wise monarch. Because the wilderness being opened up was full of monsters, he upheld the royal decree King Dagread issued in 1150, allowing witchers to practice their trade freely within the kingdom and its marches, without restriction."
"But that pamphlet, Monstrum, was like toads in a pond. It spread across the entire Kingdom of Kaedwen overnight."
"That sent the witchers' already poor reputation plummeting, making a bad situation worse."
"But King Io still kept the matter under control, because both he and the nobles in the border regions needed witchers to deal with monsters."
"Yet as time passed, the tensions kept building, until they finally erupted two years later. A mob breached Kaer Morhen and slaughtered all seven witchers stationed there, along with the witcher apprentices."
Arwen listened intently. He had never heard this part of the story in The Witcher games.
"That doesn't sound right. A mob breached Kaer Morhen? A fortress guarded by seven witchers?"
"You're right. A mob alone could never have taken it."
"But there was a mysterious leader among them..."
Vesemir fell silent.
"A mage," Arwen said at once.
Vesemir turned his face aside. "During that battle, I was away on a job in the south, not at Kaer Morhen. I was lucky enough to escape the disaster."
"A mage..." He unconsciously clenched his fists. "That's also why mages aren't welcome at Kaer Morhen."
Arwen's thoughts churned, and he could not calm down for a long time.
Judging by the education he had received so far.
The witchers of the School of the Wolf still upheld the tenet of protecting humanity. Sometimes they did care rather more about money and profit, but their work was a matter of life and death, after all.
But if they saw monsters slaughtering humans, witchers of the School of the Wolf would never stand by and let them die. Even if the person was a destitute vagrant, they would collect their payment through the Law of Surprise.
Put simply, the Law of Surprise meant taking as payment the first thing you saw upon returning home, or something you already possessed but did not know about after leaving home.
It sounded mysterious, and might bring an unexpected windfall, but witchers could tell you that it often yielded nothing worth even a copper.
If you were so poor you were wandering the streets, what could you possibly have worth taking?
Anyone who could afford the fee would have paid the witcher off with gold long ago.
As for a Child of Surprise or anything like that, you would be lucky to find one in a hundred cases.
In short, witchers did the most dangerous work for the most unreliable pay.
It was bad enough that those wretched people showed no gratitude, but they had to trample on them too?
What kind of fucked-up world was this? What gave them the right?!
"Who was that mage?"
Vesemir patted Arwen's shoulder, sensing his anger.
"Calm down, child. It happened a long time ago. Some pain is best left in the past."
"But..."
"Child, King Io was furious after the massacre. He even sent a governor of public order to investigate Kaer Morhen. But in the end, they merely sent a few mob leaders to the gallows, and that was the end of it."
Hearing this, Arwen understood what Vesemir meant.
The mage who had led the mob must have stood at the very pinnacle of Kaedwen's subjects.
It made sense. Without that sort of power, how could anyone have spread Monstrum across the entire kingdom overnight?
"Some pain will fade with time, and so will glory."
"I'm not worried about Kaer Morhen's future. It's you I'm worried about, Arwen. Do you still remember who you are?"
Arwen's gaze met Vesemir's shadowed cat eyes.
Through [Dual Souls], a distant memory quietly surfaced.
Beneath the rolling Dragon Mountains, cries of battle rang endlessly through a magnificent palace, and flames burned everything to ashes.
Kovir and Poviss.
The name rose in his mind.
His eyes lowered slightly toward the system panel, where his name was clearly recorded.
Arwin Thyssen.
And Kovir and Poviss were the hereditary lands of the Thyssen family.
Vesemir had already read what he wanted to know in Arwen's expression.
He took an exquisite round ring from inside his clothes.
Arwen reached out and accepted it. The face of the ring bore a silver arm against a red background, the coat of arms of the Thyssen royal family.
Vesemir said, "I'm returning this to you. Remember, you're a witcher now. You belong to no faction, but once you leave the mountain, you must still be careful about your movements."
"King Laird of Poviss and King Idi of Kovir have been searching for all of you these past years, trying to wipe you out. You must be careful."
"I understand."
Vesemir smiled. "I trust you to handle it well. Now that you've chosen your weapons, go back and pack. I'll prepare your travel essentials too. Leave tomorrow morning."
"All right."
Arwen left the armory with both swords on his back. With the aid of [Giant Bloodline], even the greatsword did not hamper his movements much.
He slipped the ring into his pocket and tightened his hand slightly.
The heart in his chest throbbed restlessly, as though it would leap into his throat.
Yes, his soul had taken on this body.
His mother had been humiliated and killed, his family's lands overthrown. These were blood debts carved into his very bones.
"A fallen prince of a lost kingdom. Heh..."
Arwen's cat eyes were still as he silently chose to accept this hatred.
In his memory, Kovir and Poviss had received only a few mentions in The Witcher games. It was a neutral nation, but one with staggering wealth.
Now he had a lawful and legitimate identity with which to obtain all of it. There was no reason to give it up.
As the thought arose, his restless heartbeat quickly steadied.
He returned to his room and enjoyed a good night's sleep.
Morning sunlight spilled over Kaer Morhen's crumbling walls.
Vesemir and Eskel were already waiting for him in front of the drawbridge.
The former held a black mare by the reins, while the latter packed luggage into the saddlebags, muttering to himself.
"Clothes, silver chain, [Swallow], [Golden Oriole], [Cat]..."
Eskel hefted the coin purse. "A hundred crowns? Old man, has Kaer Morhen struck it rich?"
"I remember you only gave me fifty crowns when I left."
Vesemir said sternly, "That was because I was afraid you'd waste it if you had too much gold, spending every day hanging around damned places like taverns and brothels."
Eskel put the coin purse into the bag and twisted his mouth.
"He's here."
Vesemir lifted his chin to indicate him, and both men looked toward the approaching figure.
He stood a meter eighty tall, with an average build, sharply defined features beneath short black hair, and a pair of piercing gray cat eyes.
Beneath his black cloak was a studded leather jacket. Two sword hilts rose over his right shoulder, one belonging to a greatsword, making for an imposing sight.
Vesemir was briefly lost in thought. The outfit reminded him of Bernjof. He certainly looked the part of a witcher, though he looked a little too young.
"Everything ready?" Vesemir asked.
Arwen nodded.
"Then get going, before Paul and the others wake up. Once they see you, they'll pester me again, wanting to leave now just like you."
"Their temperaments still need some tempering. Not until after the spring equinox, at least."
Arwen slid the silver sword into the sword sheath in the saddlebag, swung into the saddle, and took the reins.
"Oh, you can visit the Town of Frankenthal in Kaedwen's Upper March. The Temple of Melitele there sent word that they're moving to Temeria soon. You can pay them a visit, replenish your supplies, and lend them a hand while you're there."
Arwen murmured his acknowledgment, indicating that he would remember.
Then he and Vesemir exchanged a glance. There was no moving farewell.
Eskel gave the horse's rump a firm slap, and Arwen moved forward.
The clatter of hooves rose, then faded beyond the end of the arcade.