Tretogor, Redania's capital, was built on the ruins of an elven civilization. Unlike Novigrad, it wasn't a city that never slept, and unlike Oxenfurt, it was no beacon of knowledge or academia, but it was home to the chambers of Vizimir II.
Chilly northern winds blew across the flags in the corridors of the palace, whispered down the stone streets, and blew the doors of Night Cat open.
A pair of witchers took up a table in the corner. They were sitting side by side, and in front of them were a few plates of greasy grilled meat and dozens of glasses of wine. Vizima stout, Fiorano, Kirsch, acorn wine, dwarven liquor, and more. Most of the glasses were empty, however.
The witchers raised a toast again, and drops of wine flew everywhere, filling the air with the scent of hop and malt. Then they downed their booze in one go and burped.
"Been a while since we met. You're a better drinker now. Can't believe you're on par with ol' Lambert. Did you go into training just for today?" The man with a receding hairline wiped his sweat away and smiled at his slightly red friend.
The man before him had a gaunt face and short hair. He was wearing brown leather armor, his eyes were reddish-brown, and his nose was slightly crooked. The man scratched his nose and scoffed, pulling the burn mark on his chin wider. "Yeah, right. You're not a drinker at all, Lambert. You got wasted in Rinde and climbed your way into the peasants' farm. The cow wouldn't stop mooing the whole night. They thought you were a vampire and drenched you in garlic juice. The smell didn’t go away for a whole week, and all the coins we made went towards the repairs." Aiden narrowed his eyes. "So, which poor animal are you subjecting to your terror tonight?"
"That's a lie." Lambert looked miffed. "I didn't fuck any cows. I just hugged it like a pillow. It felt like a warm blanket. That was in the middle of winter, and all I did was do what my instincts told me, got it? And speaking of which, you were sober, but instead of taking me to my room, you laughed at me!" Lambert snapped. He stared at Aiden again like he just saw him for the first time. "You're a traitor, Aiden. You stabbed me in my back."
Aiden raised his chin. "Still better than someone who'd fuck a cow in their sleep."
The witchers engaged in a staring competition, and sparks flew. Like children, they pointed at each other and started calling names and bringing up old embarrassing stories, only stopping to eat and drink.
Eventually, all the wine was gone, and the witchers high-fived. Both of them let out a hearty laugh and sighed. That banter earlier released all the tension they had been holding inside them.
"Alright, we had our fun, Lambert. One more cuss and you're sewing your mouth shut." Aiden crossed his arms, a frown wrinkling his forehead. His face was red from all the alcohol, but the look in his eyes was serious. "So, tell me. Why did you leave Kaer Morhen and come all the way to Tretogor for me? I had a ghoul to kill. Did you run into something? Say the word and I'll help."
"I was counting on that, but I'm not the one who needs help. You are." Lambert stared silently at Aiden. He was worried about his friend.
Aiden shook his head. "Don't talk in riddles, Lambert. You're not a bard, so get to the point."
"I have a… friend. A trusted friend. He gained the powers of clairvoyance after the Trial. And he told me you'd be running into a lethal crisis a few years down the line." Lambert shrugged. "But your good friend—that's me—wouldn't let that happen, so I traveled all the way here to Tretogor. Just to save your ass."
"You're telling me a witcher is clairvoyant?" Aiden's cheeks twitched. The look in his eyes said, 'You must be mad.'
"Allow me to elaborate." Lambert told him about Roy's prophecy about the duke, his daughter, the request, political plays, and the nobles who despised Cats.
Aiden shrugged it off as some joke Lambert conjured, but the more he listened, the more he realized this might be no joke. When Lambert was finally done, a solemn Aiden rested his chin on both his hands, contemplating what he just heard. "That was… vivid. I don't think an idiot like you could have come up with such an elaborate story."
"I’m not lying!"
"Fine, I'll believe you for once. I promise I won't take any requests involving any ogroids." Aiden took a deep breath. He and Lambert might fight every time they met, but they were actually good friends, and they trusted each other. "Can you tell me who made this prophecy? Eskel, Geralt, or was it Vesemir?"
"He's an honorary member, mate." Lambert looked a little disappointed, and then his eyes lit up with respect. "His name's Roy. From the Viper School, and he's their best hope at revival. No, he's every witcher's hope. Under his guidance, we, the Cats, and the Vipers are now settled in Novigrad. And we set up a brotherhood there."
The shock in Aiden's eyes failed to escape Lambert, and he felt smug about it. Lambert pushed the stool away and walked around the empty inn.
Aiden was frozen as if his mind lost control of his body. The notion of witchers of different schools banding together was as preposterous as putting a lion in the same cage as a tiger and expecting them to get along.
"That's right. We've set up an orphanage in the city too. And we've got ourselves some promising kids, but there's only nine of us at the moment, and we need more people to chip in." Lambert gave his friend a knowing look. "And you'll be a fine new addition to the brotherhood. We averted a crisis for you, so…"
"Hold it, slow down. Who do you have on your side?"
"Letho, Auckes, Serrit, and Roy of the Viper School. Kiyan and Felix from the Cat School. And barring Vesemir, all of the Wolves are there. Heard of them before?"
Aiden was fidgeting like a cat. The Vipers were mostly active in the south, and he had no idea who they were. But he knew who the Cats were. They were the sane Cats who existed a few decades before his time. Kiyan had gone missing for decades, and hearing his name again came as a surprise. On the other hand, Felix had always been moving around.
"Lambert, this is a serious question. You mean to say witchers from three different schools established a brotherhood in Novigrad? That's impossible. The way they think and do things are too vastly different to even be reconcilable." Aiden cracked his neck.
Lambert knew his best friend enough to know that meant business. No joking around. "But we have a common goal," he argued. "In the name of our friendship, I swear I am telling the truth. If I’m lying, then I will leave and never see you again."
He was starting to exaggerate a little. "I had my doubts at first. Like you, I thought there was no way witchers could band together, but that kid changed my mind. He created miracles. It's like he could convince anyone if he wanted to. You might be wondering why he didn't come to see you himself, and that's because he has a job to do. We're all equals here, and we're all playing our part. His part is to get a mage on our side. We need a resident mage, after all. Not to mention the mage is his lover, so he's the best guy for the job."
Aiden massaged his cheeks and picked two glasses up. He wanted to drink something, but the glasses were empty. Then he felt something firing up within him.
***
"You're older than me, Aiden. You know about the tragedy that took place during the tournament." Lambert almost flew into a rage. "The rulers thought us threats, so they fanned the flames in an attempt to get rid of all the mutants. Even before that, the mages who set their sights on the Trial formula and tomes conspired and launched a siege against Kaer Morhen and Kaer Seren just to get what they wanted. If we don't change, witchers are going to be nothing but an extinct species. We don't have anyone to fall back on, but after we set the brotherhood up, everyone in Novigrad respects us. Nobody even scoffs or sneers at us.
"Nobody can call us names anymore. Nobody can hurt us. Aiden, my brother, come with me. I won't force you to join us." Lambert's eyes twinkled with genuine concern, and he extended his hand to his friend. "Just take this as a vacation to Novigrad. We have much to show. The orphanage, the apothecary shop, and even the lab. You'll have friends there. You can make your decision after you've seen what we have to offer."
Aiden was struggling with himself for a moment, and then he shook Lambert's hand. "I'm not going to ignore a friend's plea."
***
On the south of Tretogor, wilderness stood, its neighbor Oxenfurt. Underneath the cover of dense foliage and rocks stood the ruins of an ancient palace. Towering pillars stood in a circle, and geraniums and bittersweets were covering its cracked, dilapidated walls.
In the center of the palace, an uneven flight of stone stairs led downward into a dark passage, straight into the main part of the palace long buried underground.
A loud bang tore through the silence, and in came three battling figures. Two pairs of feline eyes shone in the dark, and Geralt and Kiyan circled a humanoid monster in the center, swords firmly in their hands.
The monster had a head that resembled a bat, a face that was flat and grotesque, and a maw filled with sharp, uneven teeth. There was nothing but bloodlust and carnage in its crimson eyes, and a pair of miniature horns that curled to the back protruded from the sides of its head.
The monster had a hairless body filled with pus, but its hide was grey and tough. The witchers thought they were fighting something with sturdy leather armor. The claws on its limbs weren't long, but they were as tough as iron. Tearing a human body apart would be easy for this monster.
The witchers came to a halt and stood face to face with the creature. Geralt made a blue triangle in the air and shoved it at the fleder.
The fleder was leaping at its attacker from five yards away, but Aard hit its chest and sent it flying backward. It fell, and dust swirled in the air. The monster skidded backward, but then a crimson flash blinked in the dust cloud, and in came Kiyan, his face covered in black veins.
Kiyan thrust his sword at the nape of the fleder's neck, and blood spurted, but Quen deflected it. The witcher pulled his blade out and retreated to the dark walls, leaving the monster howling in agony.
It opened its mouth wide, and a crimson tongue danced within its cavity. The monster ditched Geralt, turned around, and curled its legs up, preparing to leap.
A dark silhouette flew through the air, and a gust of wind howled. The monster bared its fangs at Kiyan, but the witcher was prepared for this.
He quickly rolled away from the assault. The monster missed his quarry and crashed into the walls instead. Still, it started attacking the wall, and the power was enough to tear a big hole in it, sending debris flying everywhere.
Someone cast Aard at the monster's back again, burying it in the walls. Its back was turned on the hunters, and it tried its hardest to break free from the stones, but it was too late.
Geralt swung his sword and thrust it into the back of the monster's head, and Kiyan followed quickly, stabbing the fleder in the same spot. Black blood rose into the air before it fell and drenched the ground.
The fleder slowly fell backward and hit the ground with a thud. Its pupils were starting to dilate, but its mouth was still moving by reflex.
"Not bad."
"You too."
Geralt heaved a sigh and high-fived Kiyan. And then he started cutting the fleder up. "The mutagen might come in handy for Carl."
"Take its innards and skin too. Time to start making the pre-Trial for the kids." Kiyan whipped out his short sword and cut the fleder's belly open.
The witchers made swift work of the fleder's body and took about half of it. They cleaned the blood up and lit their torches before advancing further into the passage.
About a minute later, they found some skeletal remains outside a broken portal and got what they came for—Cat silver sword diagram. And there was also a bonus too—Professor Sigismund Gloger's notes.
Kiyan grabbed the notes, and for some reason, he started looking dejected and remorseful. He handed the notes to Geralt and waited for the White Wolf to chastise him.
"What's wrong?" Geralt asked. He seldom saw Kiyan look so vulnerable. The man toughened out thirty years of imprisonment and was a nice teacher to the kids.
Kiyan shook his head and looked at the notebook. "You'll know once you read that. It's a record of what my greed did."
The skeletal remains belonged to a member of the Oxenfurt team of archeologists. Decades ago, Prince Adrien of the Sea Cats Dynasty sponsored them on this trip to Est Tayiar to search for the treasures of the legendary King Maeglor.
Kiyan was the bodyguard the prince hired for the team, though he had another secret mission too: retrieve the diagrams and take it back to Adrien. The scholars found the diagrams in the armory during their excavation, and as per the prince's orders, Adrien asked them to hand the diagrams over.
The team refused that demand. They were adamant that everything they retrieved must be shared with the academy. Kiyan slaughtered most of the team members and took the diagrams. He had a job to complete. Just like most Cats, he would kill to complete a request and think nothing about it.
Kiyan muttered to himself, "That was a terrible mistake." He crouched down and stared at the yellowing skeletal remains dumbly. "And the gods punished me by subjecting me to years of torture. I reflected on my actions when I was imprisoned. When the people who tortured me died, I thought I had let everything go, but when I see this… this innocents who died because of me, I know I owe them something."
Geralt said nothing for the longest time, and he shoved Kiyan's shoulder. "Remorse is normal, my friend. Especially for witchers. But you can't shoulder every single blame. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone incurs debts, but not every mistake can be rectified. Not every debt can be repaid." Reminiscence flickered in Geralt's eyes. "Destiny decreed that we survive, and we must look forward. That is the role of the survivors. Guilt gnaws away at you because you have the blood of innocents on your hands, so save even more innocent souls. The children, for example. Raise them. Teach them how to survive. If that makes you feel better, then concentrate on it and put your guilt aside."
Kiyan closed his eyes for a moment. Then he heaved a sigh and held the skeletal remains up. "You have a point. I should look forward and leave my guilt in the hands of Destiny. I committed a grave crime against these people, but I have to protect those who still live, or I'll never live this down." Kiyan shook his head, resolve flaring in his eyes. "Time to go, Geralt. To the abandoned Drahim, where the last diagram is. I'd like to see if Prince Adrien is still around."
***
A couple was standing outside the gates of Oxenfurt. The man on a grey horse had a black hat atop his head and two swords strapped to his back. He sent a flying kiss to the lady in the black dress and veil, and then he left. One month had passed since he came to Oxenfurt, and after a reluctant goodbye to his lover, Vesemir rode happily to Novigrad, the winds blowing his saddlebag open, revealing a part of the armor and weapons sleeping within.
***
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