By the next morning, all the unrest had been quelled. Witt and Geralt sat in the new room Ban Ard Academy had arranged for them the night before, while Old Graz recovered from his injuries on a bed pieced together from wooden planks nearby.
It was a small, freestanding storehouse untouched by the flames, barely large enough for the three of them. Even this special treatment was only thanks to Old Graz's position as a lecturer.
Geralt took a sip of the hot porridge an apprentice had brought earlier. Looking at Witt's solemn face, he asked, "Witt, what's wrong? You've looked like that ever since we drove Rience away yesterday. Did something happen while you were looking for the succubus?"
Witt shook his head, took a deep breath, and said solemnly, "Geralt, I know why you're stronger than other witchers. Aside from your exceptional talent with a sword, the most important reason is your tolerance for the Trial of the Grasses Decoction. That's why you underwent the School of the Wolf's advanced Trial of the Grasses."
Geralt was shaken by Witt's words, and painful memories rose from the depths of his mind. His face, left somewhat expressionless by the advanced trial, barely changed, but his eyes were filled with sorrow.
"Why bring this up, Witt?" Geralt said, each word seeming to cost him a tremendous effort.
"My brother, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up your painful past." Witt apologized first. It felt awful to reopen a wound in a family member's heart.
Then Witt's gaze hardened with resolve. Looking Geralt in the eyes, he said, "Because I want to grow stronger. I want to take the School of the Wolf's advanced Trial of the Grasses Decoction too."
Geralt started in shock and instinctively protested, "Why do you want to grow stronger? Have you forgotten Vesemir's..." His words stopped when he met Witt's gaze.
Geralt sensed that this was not a request Witt had made on a whim, but a difficult choice reached after careful consideration, filled with courage and determination.
The White Wolf sighed. "Can you tell me why? Why are you in such a hurry to grow stronger? If you're anxious about the war that might soon break out, we can simply return to Kaer Morhen. No one will find us. With your talent, you'll probably reach my level in less than ten years. Why risk using..."
Geralt closed his eyes, unwilling to show too much weakness. Though decades had passed since those advanced mutations, the terrible nightmares brought on by that bone-deep agony still returned from time to time, on nights when he let his guard down.
"The exact reason... Geralt, I'm afraid I can't tell you yet. But if I have to give you a reason, all I can say is that I refuse to submit to fate's whims. I want the chance to make my own choices!" By the end, Witt could no longer contain his emotions and shouted the words.
Geralt fell silent. He trusted Witt's decision. Though enduring that inhuman torment could indeed bring a tremendous leap in strength, he worried whether Witt would be as lucky as he had been and survive those terrifying seven days and nights.
Old Graz finally broke the brief silence. He had been listening for quite some time, and neither of them had made much effort to hide the conversation from the old mage.
"Geralt, let the boy do it. A wolf cub must suffer before it can grow."
Knowing part of the reason, Old Graz chose to support Witt. Having also witnessed the elven blood Witt possessed, he believed Witt would surely receive fate's favor once again and overcome this ordeal.
After a long consideration, Geralt finally relented. "All right. Then we'll have to return to Kaer Morhen. It's the only place where we can conduct the Trial of the Grasses. We'll also need to visit Ard Carraigh first and find a relatively difficult contract. Consider it a test for you. We can buy some ingredients for the advanced decoction while we're there."
Seeing Geralt relent, Old Graz smiled too. "Don't worry. Leave the ingredients to me. If Ban Ard doesn't have them, Ard Carraigh might not have them either."
Geralt rolled his eyes at the old mage and said stiffly, "Even so, we're still going to Ard Carraigh. I'm sure I can find the sort of trial I want there."
"All right, all right. You have the final say. You're the master witcher, after all."
Witt smiled as he watched the two bicker.
"You've got the nerve to laugh? Because you want to undergo that damned advanced trial, we'll have to tighten our belts for quite a while."
Witt hurriedly wiped the smile off his face. He was convinced that even a passing dog would earn a scolding or two from Geralt right now.
The three chatted and joked for a while longer, and Geralt wrote down some of the ingredients needed for the potion for Old Graz. After all, this was the School of the Wolf's century-old legacy, and Geralt had a responsibility to safeguard the secret.
Old Graz took the note, put on his glasses, and exclaimed, "Forktail spinal fluid, Katakan tongue. These two things go into your witchers' advanced decoction? You must be joking! Anyone who can mix these two things, drink them, and survive has my respect!"
"Heh. Drink them? They're injected!" Geralt sneered, wearing a look that said, You really don't know anything, do you?
"Are you serious? Someone can actually survive having those injected?" Old Graz asked.
"Of course. Aren't I standing here alive and well?"
"All right, all right. I'll go ask around." Old Graz climbed out of bed.
Witt hurried over to help him up and said worriedly, "Mr. Graz, why don't we get an apprentice instead? Your injuries haven't healed yet, have they?"
Old Graz waved off the suggestion. "How could I entrust someone else with a formula tied to your witchers' most closely guarded secrets? It's nothing. Lady Sabrina is a very powerful mage. My injuries have already healed. All I need now is some normal rest."
Geralt looked at Old Graz, who insisted on getting up, and felt rather ashamed. After all, he had held something back and had not written down the complete formula. Embarrassed, he said, "Sorry for the trouble, Old Graz."
"I'll thank my lucky stars if you don't drag me along the next time you spend all night drinking in a tavern." With that, Old Graz left the storehouse.
"That old bastard!"
A little later, Geralt told Witt the complete formula. After all, Witt was about to undergo the advanced trial and was qualified to know the secret.
The complete formula was: forktail spinal fluid, Katakan tongue, Foglet brain, bryonia, verbena, and hop umbels.
Forktail spinal fluid and Katakan tongue were the hardest of these ingredients to find, which was why Geralt had written them down for Old Graz.
Foglets were among the more common monsters in the Northern Kingdoms. The two of them might encounter one or two on their way to Ard Carraigh. Even if they did not, they could find an alchemy shop selling the ingredient in Ard Carraigh, and the price would not be particularly high.
Bryonia was one of the north's common staple foods and was not difficult to find.
Verbena was an herb used to treat malaria and colds, and could be bought from herbalists in some villages.
Hop umbels, also known as hops, were one of the ingredients used to brew beer. Never mind Ard Carraigh; the plant could be found almost everywhere near any city or village with a brewing industry.
Not long after Geralt began passing on some hunting experience to Witt, Old Graz came bustling in, carrying a vial of green liquid.
As he walked, he said, "The academy still has plenty of forktail spinal fluid. I brought you a vial's worth..."
Geralt replied, "That's enough, that's enough. This is enough for two batches."
Old Graz continued, "But the last Katakan tongue is in the hands of a mage named Laud Böll."
"Where is he? I'll go buy it from him," Witt said.
Old Graz smiled. "What a twist of fate. It seems you really will have to visit Ard Carraigh, because he's there right now, carrying out an assignment for the academy."