After leaving Kaer Morhen, Witt followed Geralt along the Blue Mountains toward White Mist Village near Ban Ard.
They ate and slept in the open along the way, taking mountain paths far from any settlements. With Witt lacking a horse of his own, it took them four full days to catch sight of the Lake Shira River in the distance.
During their journey, Witt and Geralt often saw human corpses left exposed in the wilderness. Only then did they realize how far the conflict between humans and nonhuman races had escalated within the Kingdom of Kaedwen.
They also encountered elves once. These once-noble elves had shed their finery for swords and leather armor, fighting to survive. The elves did not attack the two witchers, perhaps because of who they were, but in Witt's view, what the elves feared were the twin swords on their backs and the flames blazing in their left hands.
Across the Lake Shira River lay their destination: White Mist Village.
"What's Old Graz like?" Witt asked.
"Hmm..." A helpless look crossed Geralt's face. "I met Old Graz at an inn in Kovir. I happened to take a contract he'd posted on the inn's notice board and dealt with some sirens that were harassing fishermen for him. As for the man himself..."
"...he's a good man, but given the choice, I'd rather never have met him. After all, nobody wants to spend time with someone who thinks about how to dissect them all day."
While Witt and Geralt chatted, a familiar call came from an herb field halfway up the nearby slope.
"Hey! Geralt!" Old Graz set aside the herbs he had yet to plant, leaped down the slope, and ran toward them.
"Old Graz, we're here." Geralt dismounted and waved to the old mage.
"And you, little witcher. Your name was... Witt! Old Graz never forgets a friend's name."
Dressed in coarse linen clothes, Old Graz laughed heartily. The early spring chill seemed not to have dampened his enthusiasm in the slightest.
"What? Changed your mind? I don't have two thousand crowns on me right now." Old Graz fumbled through his pockets, but unfortunately, his work clothes could not hold two thousand crowns.
Witt shook his head helplessly too, once again agreeing with Geralt.
"Old Graz, weren't you the one who asked us to come help you hunt a griffin back in Buina Village?"
"Oh... yes, yes, yes! Just look at my memory. Come on, let's talk inside. This house belongs to my student, who works as an herbalist in White Mist Village. Make yourselves at home."
Old Graz smacked his forehead and led them toward the house beside the herb field.
Witt tethered Roach to a tree near the house to keep her from eating all the herbs Old Graz had painstakingly planted, while looking over the house on the edge of the mountain village.
The house stood with the lush Blue Mountains at its back, facing the clear, winding Lake Shira River. Its surroundings were peaceful and full of nature, yet it was not too far from White Mist Village, making it convenient for villagers to seek treatment and medicine.
The two followed Old Graz inside. One corner of the house was dedicated to storing various herbs, neatly arranged on wooden shelves against the wall and giving off a faint medicinal fragrance. Some tools for grinding and mixing herbs sat on the table as well.
The medallion beneath Witt's clothes remained still. There was no trace of magic here; it was indeed an ordinary house.
"Come, Witt, sit over here." Old Graz pulled Witt over to sit beside a stove.
Some scorched roots lay beside the stove, indicating that it was also regularly used to brew herbal remedies.
"Where's the owner, your student?" Geralt asked as he sat nearby.
"Lowell? I figured you might be arriving soon, so I sent him to stay in the village this morning. That lad hasn't had any contact with magic since leaving Ban Ard. I was afraid he'd make a fuss over your arrival."
"Isn't that a bit much? Driving the owner out?" Witt said, looking ashamed.
"It's fine." Old Graz seemed unconcerned. "I know the lad. Hardworking, uncomplaining, and eager to learn. Unfortunately, he has absolutely no magical talent, or he could have become a good assistant."
"That might be a good thing. He seems to be living quite comfortably here." Geralt felt the blanket draped over a chair.
"Yes..." Old Graz nodded in agreement.
"When are we going to hunt the griffin?" Witt asked.
Although Vesemir had told him there was no need to rush, he still felt a little excited about hunting monsters.
"No hurry. You both look worn out from the journey. Rest for a day first. I still have some preparations to make. We'll discuss it tomorrow." Old Graz rose and walked over to the shelves of herbs to begin making his selection.
Just as Witt and Geralt were about to rest for a while, footsteps sounded outside the door.
Witt instantly grew alert, moving behind the door and placing a hand on his sword hilt.
Seeing this, Old Graz quickly raised a hand to stop him. "Don't be nervous, Witt. It should be Lowell. I remember his footsteps."
Old Graz opened the door, and sure enough, Lowell stood outside.
"Lowell, what brings you here?" Old Graz asked his former student.
Lowell peered inside from the doorway and saw the two sword-carrying strangers the villagers had mentioned.
Seeing that Lowell looked curious rather than afraid, Old Graz let him in.
Witt watched the middle-aged man, whose face was lined with wrinkles and whose eyes were bright despite the pronounced bags beneath them, walk over and stand stiffly beside him and Geralt, looking as though he wanted to speak but did not dare.
"Hello, I'm Witt, a witcher," Witt spoke first.
"H-hello. I'm Master Graz's student. My name is Lowell."
The middle-aged man with the bowl cut found somewhere to sit, but did not dare approach Geralt, who was resting with his eyes closed.
"Perfect timing. Lowell witnessed the griffin attack, and he was the one who wrote to me in Ban Ard about its existence. Let him tell you about it. When you last saw me, I was heading farther north to Kaer Gyn to look for witchers because of this very matter."
"Why not go to Ard Carraigh? Isn't that Kaedwen's capital? There should be more people there, shouldn't there?" Witt asked curiously.
"Hmph!" Disgust written all over his face, Old Graz said indignantly, "Who would go and help that 'swine'? Work for that moody Henselt, and being allowed to live is all the payment you'll get."
Hearing his teacher speak, Lowell hurried to agree. "Exactly. King Henselt not only treats nonhumans terribly, he guards against mages as though they were thieves. You have to pass three or four inspections just to enter the city gates."
"I haven't been to Ard Carraigh since Henselt the 'swine' became king," Geralt offered from the side.
Witt nodded, then asked Lowell, "Lowell, could you describe the griffin you saw?"
"The sky was gray that morning. Seeing how cold it was outside, I thought I'd get up a little later. But suddenly, I heard a commotion and screams from the village. I immediately got up, dressed, and ran toward the village..."
At this point, Witt noticed cold sweat continually breaking out on Lowell's forehead, so he moved a step aside to let Lowell get closer to the stove for warmth.
"Thank you." After expressing his thanks, Lowell continued, "...when I approached the village, the sight before me left me too shocked to move. An enormous griffin was circling above the village. When it spread its wings, they almost blotted out the sunlight. Its feathers were dark brown, and there were sharp claws on its wings. Its eyes burned like coals..."
"...the griffin began diving. Every attack carried off livestock, or even people. I don't know why it was so angry. It wasn't like what I learned in Ban Ard. Why would a griffin choose to attack people instead of carrying off livestock?"
After finishing, Lowell crouched on the floor and hugged his icy legs, trembling.
Witt, who had thoroughly studied the witchers' bestiary, exchanged a glance with the seasoned Geralt. They knew there had to be an unknown secret behind the griffin's unusual behavior.
Old Graz muttered to himself, "How could that be? After humans encroached on griffin habitats to clear farmland, they should all have gone to nest on sheer cliffs. Why would one hunt in human territory?"
Hearing this, Witt said, "Mr. Graz, I acknowledge your insights into monster dissection, but you don't understand griffins' habits. They're clever creatures. Rather than humans, they prefer to prey on defenseless cows, sheep, and shepherds."
"They don't dare recklessly attack major roads, villages, or cities either-places where people gather. The people there can deal with them, or find someone who can. Just as you found us." Geralt picked up where Witt left off, his eyes filled with coldness.
"You mean...?" Old Graz caught on and asked.
"There must be something hidden behind this. We need more information," Witt said.
The three turned toward the only person present who had experienced it firsthand: Lowell.