"Don't you think that's a little cruel?" Geralt asked, carrying the griffin's head as a trophy.
Witt looked at Miley's back as she silently led the way ahead and shrugged. "It's to eliminate potential trouble, too. Have you forgotten how that story Father Vesemir told us ended? The one about a man who wanted to stay with his wife after she'd become a wraith, so he stopped a witcher from killing her?"
"Of course I remember. The husband ended up as food for the nekkers his wife attracted." Geralt smiled and shook his head.
"Exactly. A monster is a monster." Witt put his hands behind his head and stretched. Having worked through the night, he was somewhat tired himself.
"Don't you want something wonderful to happen with that elf woman? I can tell Miley's quite fond of you." Geralt gave him a lewd grin.
"Uh..." Witt glanced at the elf woman leading the way, then remembered the entanglement between Geralt and Yennefer. He sighed. "Better not."
It wasn't that Witt didn't want to indulge himself like his brothers, living a life of lying down wherever he got drunk.
Knowing what major events would unfold in the world of the witchers, Witt understood that from the moment the Nilfgaardian Empire's cavalry set foot in the Northern Kingdoms, even the princes and nobles at the very top would struggle to keep themselves safe amid the tides sweeping the world, let alone witchers who traveled alone.
Witt had no intention of fighting destiny. He only wanted to protect everyone he cared about.
Among Geralt and the other witchers, apart from Vesemir, who would die at the hands of the Wild Hunt in 1272, the others essentially came through their ordeals safely in the original books and games.
For Witt, there were still ten years left to grow before 1272. He believed that after ten years of growth, he would definitely be capable of saving Vesemir from the Wild Hunt.
Beyond that, he didn't want to defy the mighty power of destiny.
But his bizarre origins, and the figure in his memories who seemed to be Lady Destiny, made Witt begin to worry whether his rebirth, like the flapping of a butterfly's wings, would completely change history and turn everything into something unfamiliar.
Witt didn't want to give himself more worries.
"People like us don't have much of a future."
Geralt sighed. Naturally, the White Wolf understood that, too, but there was something he understood even better. "Witt, you know I never believe in destiny. I even despise it. But I know that sometimes, denying your own heart is nothing more than fear of the unknown. It's avoidance."
"Yes, Geralt, but please let me keep running away for a while longer." Witt smiled.
"You brat. Why do you talk like that? You sound just like a friend of mine." Geralt punched Witt's shoulder.
"Who?" Witt knew full well he meant Dandelion.
"A bard. He's a good man. It's just... sometimes he exaggerates too much." Geralt smiled wryly.
He had no objection to Dandelion turning his monster-hunting stories into songs and spreading them around, because to some extent, that gave him leverage when negotiating prices with clients. Geralt was quite grateful to Dandelion for that.
But his friend writing his affairs with Yennefer into those songs was something Geralt couldn't help finding troubling.
Especially when the heroine of those songs teased him every time she saw him, saying, "It's not as big as the songs make it sound." That only deepened Geralt's misery.
"Dandelion?" Witt asked.
"That's right. The famous Dandelion." Geralt wasn't at all surprised that Witt had heard of Dandelion, because his fame truly could be said to reach across the North. It would be no surprise to hear of him anywhere.
As they chatted, the two caught up with Miley, who was waiting for them.
Witt knew it was time to be blindfolded again.
As Miley stepped forward to tie his blindfold on, Witt said, "You really don't need to be so wary of us. We witchers have professional ethics."
"Professional ethics? How interesting!" Remembering Witt's earlier behavior, Miley replied fiercely, tightening her grip a little more.
"Hiss... Miley, I haven't offended you, have I? Gently." Witt spoke without thinking.
"Sorry. These are my professional ethics as the leader of the elven camp."
"Hahaha." Geralt's mocking laughter didn't escape Witt's ears.
After being blindfolded and led on several more detours, the two returned to the elven ruins under Miley's guidance.
Old Graz, who was recording data outside, saw the three return, put down the book in his hands, and went to meet them. He wanted to tell Miley about his night's research findings and discuss them with her.
"Miley, could you tell me in detail..."
To his surprise, the beautiful elf woman ignored him outright, walked past the bewildered old mage, and entered the reception room.
Behind her followed an embarrassed Witt and Geralt, who kept making fun of him.
"What..." Old Graz looked at Miley going through the doorway, then at the two men, and asked Geralt, "What's going on with those two? Did something happen?"
"Nothing, nothing. Hahaha, that's youth for you." Laughing, Geralt threw an arm around Old Graz.
Finally, after the two hundred-year-old men spent some time making fun of the young witcher, the four sat back down around the table in the center of the reception room.
"Thank you for your noble character, Mr. Graz of Kovir."
Miley had just heard from her subordinates that Old Graz had spent the first half of the previous night constantly using magic to heal the wounded in the elven camp.
"Don't concern yourself with such a small matter. Friendly elves often helped me when I was young, too." Old Graz waved a hand, his tone utterly unconcerned.
From the bag that had held the magic crystals earlier, Miley selected the largest crystal that had not yet been inscribed with runes and handed it to Old Graz.
"Please accept this token of my thanks, Mr. Graz. I'm sorry I can't give you more crystals. We still need them." Having returned to the elven camp, Miley seemed to have become the leader she had spoken of again.
Old Graz had intended to refuse, but seeing her firm gaze and hearing the implication in her tone that she didn't want to owe a human a favor, he accepted the crystal.
Still, he took out the roughly five hundred crowns he had left, placed them on the table, and pushed them toward Miley, saying earnestly, "This crystal is good enough to serve as material for a magical teleportation device. It deserves a higher price."
"But isn't this... a little too much?"
"Too much? On the contrary, I think I've gotten quite a bargain." Old Graz smiled.
Hearing him put it that way, Miley accepted.
She then counted out a hundred of them and handed them to the two witchers as payment for the contract.
"This..."
Geralt and Witt had intended to refuse, because the female griffin that was the target of their contract had already been at death's door when they reached the nest. Even an ordinary person could have killed her easily.
But Miley cut off their refusal, saying, "I know you witchers have your professional ethics, but please don't make me break my word in front of my subordinates."
With her having gone that far, Geralt and Witt could only accept.
Witt had other plans for those crowns, however. He took out the fifty that were his share and returned them to Miley. Under her complicated gaze, he said, "Miley, please exchange these for an equivalent value in magic crystals inscribed with runes."
"...All right."
In the end, with Old Graz helping to appraise them, Witt selected five crystals that could resonate with the runes on his left arm.