Chapter 4: Signs of Civilisations

The sun shined while does grazed under the shadows the trees surrounding Geralt. This part of the world was one where Nature ruled with an iron fist. All you could see was wildness in its purest verdant form. Some patches of earth were imprinted with the paws of wolves and foxes, as the Witcher saw with his experimented eyes. His new Roach was a tranquil horse and seemed to be trained. Not once since he left the domain of the Great Deku Tree had the horse refused to change directions when Geralt wanted nor did the mare tried to leave when Geralt took a pause. The Master of the Lost Woods did not disappoint when it came to boons.

Although there was a difference between the woods where Geralt was and the ones part of the Great Deku Tree's domain. Where one had been suffocating with its insistent mist and nerve wracking by the constant feeling of being watched by something, this one was more calm and natural. Not once did he felt something unnatural. The medallion hanging from his neck had been still since the departure. There was one detail that made the Witcher pause however. It had been almost a full day since and there was no trace of civilization, except for the old beaten road he was on. Yet it was very old with weeds and wild flowers blooming from it.

Another thing that surprised him was that he hadn't run into monsters, the time when he met the strange woman excepted, at all. But it didn't mean that they weren't there. His senses could discern the subtler things hidden around him. Some marks marred the trunk of a tree, broken branches that started to slowly heal, old tracks and patches of fur here and there. All of those indicated that this wold had them. As Geralt took a turn, he saw a hole where should have a been a tree. It had been taken, roots and all. Next to it were great footprints accompanied by smaller ones. After a more in depth look, those strange pig-faced monster form the other time were the owner of those. The bigger ones, he had no idea what kind of creature it could be. It couldn't be a giant or a cyclops, as he knew them very well when he took care of them in exchange for coins.

This line of thoughts brought in into another as Roach took another turn by choosing the right road at an intersection. All of Geralt's knowledge had been built by his training and his years as a Witcher traveling the Continent. All of this wouldn't not help him if what was waiting for him in this new land were all unseen monsters. However, there was a sliver lining, his training. Which when he thought about it, would help him, yes, however he had strayed from the Path for a long time.

His thinking was cut short was his ears caught the distinct sound of weapons hitting flesh. The muffled cries, due to the distance, were human. Roach went at full speed on the pass, blowing up dust in her passage. The sounds of combat became clearer the more Geralt approached. He had not taken out a sword, be it the steel or silver one, as he had no idea of the threat he was going to soon face. However, this lack of knowledge was discarded as silver was out because of the inhuman growling and oinking. Roach and Geralt arrived at the scene of a struggle between a young man, armed with a round wooden shield and a short sword. The only other kind of armor he had was the metallic pot he wore as a helmet. The young man was facing the guttural laughs of multiple multiple pig-faced monsters. Some had red skin, other blues. Their weapons consisted of rusty swords and pikes. Two of them were on the ground, bleeding to death. The young man was hurt. The copper scent of blood emanated form him.

Geralt's entrance at the scene was sudden and taking advantage of this surprise, he lopped a head while Roach pushed away a second monster. Not wasting a second, he dismounted and charged, engulfed by a yellow shield that stuck with him like a second skin. The monsters had reacted to his dispatching of two of their comrades and changed target. One tried to bash him with its rusty sword, which the Witcher dodged with ease and punished the over-extending by cutting of one arm of the monster. It screamed in pain, forgetting Geralt's presence to concentrate on trying to cut of the stream of its vital fluid. It was its final mistake as its heart was then pierced.

"How do you like that, you piece of filth?"

Then the edge taken by his retirement costed Geralt a mistake as he felt the rusted head of a pike poking him, which resulted in an explosion of yellow, projecting the monster responsible for the attack. The shouts of the young man was accompanied by gurgling as something heavy fell on the floor. At the nick of time he managed to cast an Aard, throwing away the monster that jumped at him. His guard was up as he surrounding himself in a new cocoon of yellow, still having the energy for the protective sign. There was in total four monster still standing. The one disoriented by the burst of energy from Geralt's shield was still on the ground. Its life was cut short by the silver sword that plunged into its throat.

A parry, deflecting a blade coming for the Witcher's head, gave the window a gauntlet to the groin, stunning enough the monster for killing it in a swift blow. And now there was only one left as the young man dispatched the one he was dueling. The bloody stain grew on his cloth and yet, he kept on fighting.

"Keep you dirty face away from 'Ma!" shouted the young in an act of defiance.

Geralt had not noticed when he arrive, but behind the young man, back against the trunk of an oak, the was an old woman. He didn't have more time to take in her appearance as one more monster needed to be taken care of. Between the Witcher and the young man, it was short work. Corpses with red skins were strewn around, bathing in their own blood. Before Geralt cleaned his blade, he made sure that they were truly alone with his senses. Once satisfied, he sheathed his sword turning around to be face to face with a sword pointed at his direction. Raising slowly his hand into the air, he could now take the appearances of the people he saved. And the first thought that came to his mind were: Elves?.

Pointy ears were the first thing his yellow eyes saw. However, the facial structure wasn't that different with his own. Thy were also a bit shorter that the average man. It could be that their entire species was like that, or that the individuals he had in front of him could simply be shorter that their own average.

"Easy, I am not here to hurt you. If I was, wouldn't have helped you" said Geralt with an appeasing tone.

Suspicious deep blue eyes squinted at him. He could see the arms of the young man, no, teenager, trembling because of fear and exhaustion. The suspicion continue as the nameless possible-elf looking at him, going from his white hair to the scars adorning his face to finally his eyes, which he stayed focused on the longest. The wince that traveled in across the face was subtle but still there.

"How can I be sure of that an' you're not tryin' to stab us later in the back?" answered the teen with an accented voice, never once ceasing to point his weapon at Geralt.

"My name is Geralt of Rivia."

He didn't receive an answer. However, before the tension could linger any longer, an old and decrepit hand posed itself on the teen's arm. The old woman, to which the hand belonged, shook her head at what was probably her grandson. When he saw that, the teen's shoulder sagged as if a great weight had been lifted from them. Now, he could show the pain he was in as a string of barely muttered insults flew from his mouth. He sat down against a tree with the help of the woman.

She was like the teenager, pointy ears and all. However, Geralt had to pay attention to see the same deep blue eyes that were hidden behind almost closed eyelids. She opened her mouth to say something that seemed to be gibberish to Geralt's ears. However, the young man didn't have the same problem to understand her.

"Sorry about not presentin' myself, Geralt. Name's Boli" he said wincing pain shot up from his wound.

"We should treat your wound before it get worse."

"Ha!" the laugh was accompanied by a cough. " 'Ma said the same thing. Go help her, I ain't gonna move."

The old woman turn around and walked towards a corpse that the Witcher had not noticed before. It was a horse, with its stomach open wide. Satchels and different kinds of sacks laid around the dead animal. She took a pot and some herbs as well as some strange mushrooms which shined faintly. Then, she went towards one of the dead monsters and took out a knife she kept on herself, giving to Geralt while pointing and murmuring more nonsense.

"She wants you to cut open one of those bastards and take its heart." translated Boli from his tree.

Some things stayed the same, no matter the place. If his deduction was true, then they were in the middle of a little session of alchemy. Doing as he was told, Geralt plunged the knife into the almost slimy flesh, cutting a hole big enough to see the purple heart and viscera. Once the organ in his hand, he looked at the old woman and saw her preparing a fire with a pot on it. As she was preparing the mushrooms and the different vegetables, she signed Geralt to come by her side. Next to the pot, there was a mortar big enough to contain the monster's heart.

" 'Ma, you forgot the schnapps, again." called out Boli as he maintained the pressure on his wound.

Aged grumbling was the answer as the old woman went and took out a bottle of clear alcohol that smelled faintly of fruits. When she returned, she gave him the bottle and gestured enough to let him know on what to do. Uncorking the alcohol, Geralt sprinkled it on the heart that he had previously placed in the mortar. The reaction that happened was surprising, as when the liquid touched the organ, this one started to melt before all that was left was a sort of purplish soup that bubbled a little. However, the appearance was deceptive, as when he started crushing the substance with the pestle, cracks appeared while there was some resistance.

" 'seems you have done that all your life or somethin'" said Boli, watching the scene with a pained grimace.

All that was left inside the mortar was a sort of horrible paste to look at. The color was the same kind you would imagine if you thought about the worst poison possible. An old hand asked for the substance and Geralt gave it to the old woman. What she had done was some kind of soup with the ingredients cut into very small bits. The paste fell into the preparation, covering the small vegetables. The grandmother then grasped a fan with which she fed the fire air, making it grow until a cage of flames encircled the pot. More bubbles of purples burst into existence and during this intense cooking, the color of the whole mix started to change. From a devilishly purple, it lost its edged to gain a more dignified, royal, color.

Killing the fire and making to that the embers would not start a wildfire, the old woman, with trembling arms, brought the strange soup to Boli. The young man could not grasp the pot with a sure hand, as one was making sure he wasn't bleeding to death. She carefully made him drink the soup, however she did not give him the entirety of it. The more liquid the young man swallowed, the more painful it seemed to get. With the rest of the concoction, it was directly applied on the wound he had on the flank as a sort of unguent. Boli almost shouted as if he was branded by a hot iron but kept his composure, opting to biting his lips instead of shouting.

"It hurts like a Lynel to the face," he declared as he took some deep, painful breathes. "Anyway, think we should get goin', we shouldn't stay out while its dark. Thanks for the help, Geralt."

The Witcher nodded as he helped the hurt teenager to get up.

"You can put your things on Roach, should have enough place for you and the old woman."

A dusty grumble came out from his side and Boli translated.

"Her name is Shepie, but everyone call her 'Ma"

After the presentations were done, Geralt of Rivia was walking next to Roach, which carried two new passengers to some haven of safety in this world.

"So, yeah, we are going to the Woodland Stable," explained Boli as he kept a watchful eye.

"Of course." answered Geralt as they continued to travel.

Roach hadn't said anything or complained during the trip. The new combined weight of her passengers and theirs stuff didn't seem to bother her that much. Shepie murmured something which her grandson, which the Witcher had learn was the case, answered quickly.

"Really? you're going to give him your soup?" Boli said that with surprise clearly written on his face.

More aged mumbling continued before Boli answered and argue with Shepie about this soup. Geralt didn't knew what was the deal with this. He was more concentrated about what was going to happen to him while he was stranded here. He didn't knew how long he would stay in this world. What was more was that Ciri would have heard of his disappearing and would have acted rapidly to try and find him. This brought a little smile on his face. However, she would have also contacted people that could help, which meant her.

Each thoughts that lingered on Yennefer were ones attached with mix emotions. Even after all this time since the wish that bind the two together, their relationship had been more tumultuous to say the least.

"She asked if you had kids."

"What?" answered Geralt, not having listen to what was going on with the other two.

"She asked if you had kids? Cause the smirk you had there for a second is the same kind she and Ol' Pops had when they thought about theirs," clarified the teen as he discretely looked at Geralt's eyes.

Even here, his eyes still unnerved people. However, he couldn't ponder more on the matter when Boli started to act rather strange.

"Oh no," was all he said as his head lolled.

His grandmother was ready to catch him should he fall, as well as Geralt. A quick look at the young man's eyes and the answer was clear, what Boli had drank was subject to having secondary effect. Yet, Shepi didn't seem to be that preoccupied as she made sure that Boli stayed upright.

"Horse head," mumbled the young man as he started to laugh as well as winced.

In the distance, where Boli had pointed to before he started to rambling, Geralt could see some sort of construction, which when he concentrated enough, had the same shape as the head of a horse. And it wasn't, civilization was also there, as numerous columns of smokes snaked their ways into the blue sky. The more the group approached, the more details Geralt could discern. Wooden walls protected the village from outside threats. The most prominent thing that caught the Witcher's attention was the horse head, which was made from scraps and tissues.

A rudimentary gate blocked the group progression with two towers on each side.

"Halt!" screamed one of the vigils before recognizing who was riding. "Boli? Is that you? What happened?"

"Bokoblins, that's ..." mumbled the wounded before drifting of.

"Open the gate!"

The doors opened, creaking, while five men and women, dressed in mails, were there to welcome the group. However, as soon as the militia saw Geralt, weapons were drawn and pointed at his direction.

"What you do?" asked the delirious Boly with anger.

"Boli, 'Ma, please step away from the Yiga" asked a man resolutely.

The effect of the word "Yiga" made people around even more nervous. The few curious onlooker quickly went into hiding. Mothers and fathers took their children away to safety.

"He not a yiga..." drawled Boli

"And do you know that, Boli? You can't even properly speak nor think straight in your state. So I will asked once again, step away from the man."

Geralt didn't knew if he should say something or not. The people in front of him, covered in a bit of day-to-day grime reminded him of something he didn't want to remember. As the tension grew, Shepie got off Roach's saddle, helped her grandson then walked up to the commanding man.

"what is it, 'Ma? Ouch!" he shouted as the old woman hit his knee and started rambling aggressively. "What? How could you possibly know… Ouch! Stop it, 'Ma!"

She gestured to Geralt direction while mumbling even more nonsense while agitating a menacing old and tiny fist.

"Alright, alright! You there!" said the man while pointing a finger at him. "Come here. Listen, stranger, I thank you for saving 'Ma and Boli from those bokoblins, So, I will give the benefit of the doubt here. However, if you want to stay, you are going to make yourself useful like everyone. Is that understood?"

"Yes," answered Geralt truthfully.

"Good. Because if you don't behave, you and I are going to have a problem."

The guard left after that, fuming while throwing angered looks to the grandmother-grandson duo.

"I think I'm going to..." said Boli before he vomited a mix of green and purple on the ground.

"Is he going to be okay?" asked the Witcher to the woman which wore the clothes of the local healer, prominently white.

"Yes. The potion helped him survive. Now, all he need is rest. Making potions on the fly without the necessary precaution are more prone to have secondary effects. However, those one were not that dangerous. He will feel unwell, as if he had drank too much." answered the nurse as she clean the tissue she had used to clean the trace of vomit. Boli was on his side, in case he should vomit a bit more. "You can go, Stranger. He is in good hands."

Saying his goodbyes and thanking the woman, Geralt exited the tent. Once outside, the rays of the afternoon sun shined upon him. The few people that were around looked at him with a bit of suspicion and surprised as to his appearance. However, they weren't as afraid as they had been when the captain of the militia had called him a "Yiga". There still was a bit of tension when he walked to the central building.

It wasn't really a building per se. It was more akin to an enormous construction made from scraps. Patches of different colors and material had been sewn together until the whole thing managed to resemble the head of a horse. Geralt didn't know how the thing was still standing because for each strong breeze, the metallic part of it creaked like rusted iron. However, the precariousness of the thing didn't seem to bother the people of the camp. For as big as it was, the settlement was not a village nor a town. Because as the Witcher looked a little bit closer to the different buildings, he could plainly see that each and everyone of them were constructed in such a way that disassembling them would be easy. The camp was a semi-permanent one which could be moved with ease should the need be.

The head tent served as a hub for the brave traveling merchants, as an inn and tavern for any that wanted to rest and eat and as well as a stable for horses, donkeys and other traveling animals. Entering the round construction into the tavern section, Geralt went in front of the bar, which was connected with the main desk for the stable.

"Excuse-me?" he called the man behind it. "Do you have soap?"

"Want to have a bit of a scrub, eh? Well sure. However, you're goin' to bath at the river for that." answered the receptionist. "Here, free of charge. As a thank for saving old 'Ma."

Receiving the brick, Geralt followed the direction given to him by the other man to the Zora River. It wasn't far from the Woodland Stable, the name for the settlement. And as he had learn, there were other Stables just like the one he was in all over the known world. Some were simply pit-stop for weary travelers others, though rare, were akin to small bastion of civilization against the wide wild world. And he also learned the presence of true villages. They were few and fast, but they were there.

The tell tale sound of rushing water welcomed him as he approached the Zora River. He wasn't alone at the riverside. A couple of children, no older than 7 looked at him with surprise and a bit of fear. However, it quickly melted so that their awe was all that was left. And yet, it wasn't his eyes that seemed to bother the children as they concentrated on his ears. Which was another point that surprised the Witcher a bit. All the people that he had met and interacted with had ears like knives. The fact that he was heavily scarred, had cat like eyes and his ears were round made him the local curiosity. The children had not been the only ones gawking at him.

Water almost touched his shoes now. Next to him there was another man, laying on the grass next to a black boulder that twice his size while a small fire quietly burned. All he was wearing was his underwear. Small waves licked his feet. Sensing someone watching him, the man open his eyes, green, and saw Geralt.

"Greeting, stranger. Are you the new face that caused a bit of commotions?" asked the man.

"Yes. And you are?"

"Oh, where are my manners. I am Zobu," said the man as got up to shake Geralt's hand before returning to his previous position next to the boulder.

Seeing as they were no other comments, Geralt started to undress. His two swords were laid carefully next each other as the rest of his clothes followed suit. Entering the river, he noted the coldness of it. He kept going until the water went up to his knees and then sat down. After his hair were wet, he started scrubbing away all the accumulated grime since he had unwillingly been transported into another world. The little healing from the Great Deku Tree hadn't taken care of Geralt's hygiene.

"Hey! don't touch that!"

The exclamation made the Witcher turn around, seeing the two children from before, once boy and one girl, running away, laughing at the admonishment from Zobu. They had tried to unsheathe Geralt's sword.

"Don't worry about them, I'll look after your blade. Go back to cleaning yourself," reassured the other man as he laid down, eyes opened this time.

Geralt still made sure to throw a look or two as he kept washing. Once he was sure that there was no traces left of dirtiness, he got out of the river. The cold of the water cling to him a bit before gradually disappearing. As he sat at the laying man's fire, he started to breath as he had learned. The air entered his lungs continuously before he expired in a repeating pattern not unlike an old clock. This meditation calmed his mind while his tense muscles relaxed and lost their edge. A cycle of in and out was all that mattered during this moment suspended in time. Geralt was in his own little bubble of peace and yet, a part of him was still paying attention. He heard the breeze gently caressing the grass, the surprisingly great respiration if the one with which he shared the fire.

When he came back from his second state, the white haired man open his eyes to see that Zobu was looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Geralt, you seem to be a man that knows his drink. How about we go to the tavern. The first round is on me." asked the elf as his eyes quickly went and go to the Witcher's stomach.

"Thanks"

"Good! Then, come on Bubu, get up!" he called in the direction of the boulder. It started to move, the mud in which it was staying splashed and moved and what Geralt had thought had been a simple rock was in fact a wild pig of enormous proportions. Its hide was a dark thick and gray. Red eyes looked at the two men with calm. Oinking a deep note, the animal approaches Zobu, sniffing him before it started being pet by the man.

"Come one, old girl, let's move" he told her with warmth. The pig oinked once more and followed the two men.

Once Geralt and Zabu were sitting at a table, and that Bubu the big boar was waiting outside. Around them were few people drinking. A family were eating while a man sat in a corner, looking at the seat in front of him with empty eyes.

"While we are waiting for our drinks, Geralt, may I ask you something?"

"Depends on what."

"Naturally," said Sabu with a nod. "What exactly is your profession? I would say something quite physical with how your body is painted by old marks."

The answer didn't came immediately as the requested tankard were laid on the table that was between the two men and they toasted.

"I'm a monster hunter. That's what I do." answered Geralt as he took a sip of the first alcoholic beverage on this new world. The taste wasn't bad. A bit too fruity for his taste.

"So I presume that the two swords are for monster then?"

"Yes." said Geralt after a bit.

"Well then, I think you will find work here, as well as any part of Hyrule for that matter. Although, maybe the bigger ones will be a bit tricky for you. However, they are quite a rare sight in this region."

Silence took control of the conversation as both witcher and elf drank. The deep oinking outside caused a few people to look at the gigantic boar laying outside while a dog was running circles around it, wagging its tails with playfulness.

"Zabu! You old scoundrel. I didn't knew you were here!" exclaimed a voice. Its owner, another elf with deep green eyes and a bit of a beard growing, approached the pair. He took Geralt's drinking companion in his arms while laughing like a man twice his size. "Hah! How good it is to see you. It has been almost a year since the last time. Oh, who is your friend over?"

"Almo, this is Geralt, monster hunter by profession. Hey, a drink for my old friend!" called Zabu. "Look at you, not a scratch or anything! Life has been kind to you." declared Zabu with warmth.

"She has been the same to you, my friend, the same to you." responded Almo. "Anyways, what are you doing here? As well as you, Geralt."

"Oh, you know, traveling trying to sell what I find while searching old ruins from the ancient kingdom."

Almo reacted with clear surprise at that as he coughed up what he had gone the wrong way.

"Really? And you are still alive and well. Truly, you must be in the Princess' good grace if she has blessed you so far. Oh, I almost forgot you." he stopped while paying attention to Geralt's ear. "Round, eh? Quite a rare trait to have. Bah, you even if you are a roundy doesn't mean you are not hylian like the rest of us," dismissed the hylian as he took a sip. "And you, what are you doing here?"

The Witcher didn't answered right away and bough time by drinking more slowly. He didn't knew what the people of this land knew of others world or how in tune with magic they were. The impression he had from the Great Deku Tree and his kind were one of secrecy, hidden from the rest of the world. So, taking a decision, he finally answered the inquiry thrown his way.

"Just trying to find what to buy bread with while traveling." he deflected flatly.

"Really Geralt? I thought that with your skills and tricks you will not be spoiled for choices. Not a lot of people have been smiled upon by the Great Powers, can we have a small demonstration?"

That answered one of his question at least. With a flick of his wrist, Geralt cast igni on the candle in front of him. The wick burned and a small flame started dancing.

"Impressive," said Almo while his old friend nodded and hummed before he finished his drink. "It is not all you can do, right?"

"No, it's not."

"No need to be like that, Geralt. I know when a man doesn't want to reveal his secrets."

The two old friends kept talking to each other and included the new guest a few times during their conversations about old times and current events. The man that was morosely drinking left the tavern to lay on one of the bed present, not paying any attention to what was going on. The stumbling of the young Boli entered, walking slowly, while smiling as he held a big glass bottle filled with a warm orange liquid. He approached the group and laid the bottle in front of Geralt. His two companions had their eyes as big as saucepan when they looked at what he had just received.

"Here. A promise is a promise and 'Ma always keep them."

"Lucky bastard," muttered Almo under his breath. "What are you waiting for? Try it before I steal it from you."

Under the insistent look from the ones around him, Geralt uncorked the bottle, put it on his lips and drank gently the soup. A warm sensation, accompanied by a cream of carrots, pumpkins, spices as well as some herbs. However, it wasn't this combination that gave him pause. There was something else. Something he couldn't place. Even his experience palate, which had been used to recognize the different ingredients of potions and poisons alike couldn't find the thing that made what he was eating so special.

"You alrigh'?" asked Boli.

Geralt, felt something around his eyes. Passing a finger on it, saw that it was a tear.

"Yes. Yes I am."