By the time Witt climbed out of bed, it was already noon the next day. The midday sun had dispelled much of the city's stench.
Witt had been woken once that morning, but after recognizing Geralt's and Old Graz's footsteps, he had gone back to sleep.
Witt drew his steel sword and exercised in the courtyard for a while. Seeing no sign of the other two waking, he decided to go out alone and find somewhere to sell the female griffin's head from before, replenishing his shriveled coin purse along the way.
Hector lived in the apprentice dormitory, and Witt did not want to trouble anyone over something so minor. When he had entered the academy district the previous night, he had noticed a fairly respectable-looking magic shop, though it was sandwiched between a brothel and a tavern.
Under the strange gazes of several hungover mage apprentices, Witt carried the bloody griffin head toward the shop.
Pushing open the door, Witt felt the chaos magic inside was even denser than outside. He glanced at the faint magic circle on the floor. It seemed this was why the magic gathered here.
The owner of this shop seems to be a powerful mage, perhaps even an instructor at Ban Ard Academy, Witt thought.
A distinctive fragrance filled the shop's air, a mixture of various magical herbs and spices that perked Witt up. The stench outside made the fragrance all the more refreshing.
An exquisite glass cabinet stood in the middle of the shop, displaying various magical amulets and fine gemstones. Such things belonged in Temeria or Redania, rather than the rough lands of Kaedwen.
Magical items hung on the surrounding walls, including swords and armor engraved with crude runes that looked like gnomish work. Various magical organs sealed in glass jars stood on rows of display shelves. There were drowner brains and swamp hag tongues that Witt recognized, along with some enormous organs that were difficult to identify.
These highly valuable severed limbs and body parts were simply left out on display, making Witt curious about just who the shopkeeper was.
A tall counter in a far corner of the shop held magical potions and reagents of various colors. Labels on the bottles described their benefits for sexual activity. From the scattered gaps among them, Witt could tell these were the shop's bestsellers.
A mysterious curtain hung there, with a faint light shining from behind it. A figure was dimly outlined against the curtain, presumably the shopkeeper.
"Master mage, do you buy griffin heads here? It only died three or four days ago." Witt raised the griffin head in his hand.
"First, you should address me as madam. Second, although mages and sorcerers are both spellcasters, we generally use sorceress for female spellcasters. Little witcher, didn't your teacher tell you that?" A very pleasant voice with a teasing edge came from the figure.
A hand as finely sculpted as white jade drew aside the curtain, revealing the sorceress's face to Witt.
The sorceress's long auburn hair burned like flames, falling over her shoulders and giving her an air of overflowing passion. Her bright eyes glittered like deep red rubies, carrying a hint of the wilderness's wildness and courage.
Seeing Witt's somewhat stunned expression, the sorceress's full red lips curled slightly, revealing a knowing look of complete control.
"Ahem..." Witt coughed softly to ease the awkwardness. "Esteemed sorceress, please forgive my rudeness. I am Witt of Lyria."
"Oh?" A melodious note slipped from the sorceress's lips. Her figure was graceful, her curves beautiful. She stepped out from behind the counter and approached Witt with a dancer's elegant gait, displaying her perfect body to the witcher.
She wore thoroughly provocative clothing that exposed her smooth shoulders and silky legs. The close-fitting garments hugged her graceful figure, their vivid colors complementing her long auburn hair and displaying boundless passion and vitality.
As the sorceress approached him with aggressively seductive, dancing steps, a rose-like fragrance gradually enveloped Witt. For the first time, he seemed somewhat at a loss.
The sorceress leaned close to Witt and looked at his silver-gray hair, affectionately winding a lock around her finger. Parting her small, cherry-like lips, she asked, "Your silver-gray hair reminds me of a friend I haven't seen in years. He's a witcher too. Tell me, darling, what's your relationship with Geralt? Geralt of Rivia."
With that, she looked at the witcher medallion hanging on Witt's chest, lifted it into her small palm, and gazed at him with eyes that were difficult to refuse.
Witt regained his earlier composure and abruptly stepped back, escaping the sorceress's control. Her fiery temperament and provocative behavior had allowed him to recognize her.
Straightening the wolf-head medallion on his chest, Witt said solemnly, "Esteemed Madam Sabrina Glevissig, Geralt is my companion. We are currently traveling together and taking contracts."
Sabrina Glevissig was a sorceress from Ard Carraigh, the capital of the Kingdom of Kaedwen, and had long served as King Henselt's adviser. She was one of the most influential sorceresses in the north, famous throughout the Northern Kingdoms for her volatile temper and blunt, impulsive conduct. She was known as a "true daughter of the Kaedweni wilderness."
It was she who, for various reasons, had unleashed a terrifying rain of fire called "Sabrina's Hellfire" outside Vergen, on the border between Aedirn and Kaedwen.
Looking at the silver-gray strands left in her hand, Sabrina's expression stiffened somewhat. She disliked anyone escaping her control. The sorceress tossed the hairs aside, seeming to lose interest in the little witcher before her.
Sabrina relaxed and sat down elegantly. Driven by magic, the exquisite wooden chair behind the counter instantly slid beneath her pert buttocks.
The sorceress examined her flawless fingers, frowning slightly as though her nails were not vivid enough. She said casually, "I heard you came with Old Graz. What, did Geralt run off to enjoy himself and send you to sell this thing?"
"Madam Sabrina..."
Witt was about to offer a word or two in Geralt's defense, but the sorceress cut him off.
"Don't call me madam. Am I that old?" Sabrina raised an eyebrow.
Of course, Witt would not anger a sorceress over something like this, especially Sabrina Glevissig. She dared to slam the table and interrupt even King Henselt of Kaedwen when he was speaking in public.
"Beautiful Miss Sabrina."
"Mm-hmm..." Sabrina nodded, seemingly very pleased with both the form of address and the little witcher who knew how to behave. She waved a hand and said, "Put down that griffin head you're holding. Although it contains some venomous arachas toxin, which makes it troublesome to brew potions with, as it happens, I've been researching giant thorn trees lately. This couldn't be better for cultivating seedlings."
"Thank you, beautiful Miss Sabrina." Witt meant those words from the heart.
Sabrina took out a small purse of coins. When Witt reached to accept it, the sorceress playfully withdrew her hand and said with a smile, "Don't thank me just yet. I need your help with something. Yours and Geralt's."