On The Path: A Series of Shorts

by Scion Project

This follows the exploits of witchers, the deadly and daring monster slayers.

7. The Road, One Shot

Kovir, Spring, 1278

Ry woke with a start.

The witcher had long ran out of nightshade which was the only means for her to have a truly restful sleep. Ry was somewhat grateful she never remembered her dreams. From the sweat that accumulated on her brow, and the way her heart pounded and her breath heaved, she guessed they were never good. The witcher sat up in her bed roll, shivering for a moment before finally waking up.

Kovir during the spring was beautiful, no, stunning. The morning sun shined through the tall pines of the wood she and her stallion Grey had camped in. From her sitting position she could see a nearby pond. It was so blue it put the very sky to shame, and beyond it she could see the tall, grand mountains which yielded the mineral wealth of the kingdom she served.

Ry sighed in relief; she was back in the real world. Standing tall she walked past her horse, giving it a pat as she passed, and made her way to the pond. The witcher knelt before the pond, getting a good look at herself in the reflection. What looked back at Ry was a tired looking young woman, with strong imperial features: one associated with the decedents of counts and lords. Splashing water in her face and taking a few drinks, she closed her eyes and began to meditate.

Gael, her master, had prescribed her to meditate for one turn of the hourglass every morning, every evening, every day. Ry liked to meditate. It was more restful than sleep; the peace that it gave was something robbed of her long ago. The witcher did exactly what her master wished, one turn of the hourglass. Her eyes opened and took a good look at the mountains once more. A small smile grew on her face, as she settled upon staying here for just a little while longer.

Ry came to Grey again and retrieved from the saddle bag a book and a piece of charcoal which was wrapped in cloth for grip. Returning to the pound, she opened her book, revealing pages of sketches. Some were of people's faces Ry had found memorable- her master Gael for example, though she couldn't get the beard exactly right- and some of places- like the ruins of Kear Murdaróir that greatly intrigued her when she passed the old keep on the road. She opened the sketch book to a blank page, placed turned the hourglass over again and begun to draw the Graig Lwyd mountains.

The witcher could not capture color, but she did the best she could in disguising the snow covered peaks, and the rest of the mountains. Ry struggled with the fine lines of faces and people, she greatly prefered to draw the lands she traveled over. The way the light hit the mountains in the morn had tingled her muse many times over, to the point where she decided to cave in and draw them. She checked the hourglass and frowned that her time was up.

Dousing the flames she readied her horse for travel. Grey was a stubborn stallion, who only permitted Ry on his back. What's more, Ry was the only person Grey let near at all without bucking and thrashing. Long hours of training and many carrots had built a strong friendship, but neither had pacified Grey's wild nature; accordingly, Ry always tied him up outside any stable for fear of trouble. Mounting Grey, she did one last check over her camp site before spurring the stallion forward.

It was only a short ride through the woods before she was back on the highway, the Gold Coin Path. The wide, cobblestone, road ran from the Lan Exeter to Tretogor, in Redania. The road was the lifeline of Kovir, and of the Northern Realms. Wagons, ladened in gold, silver and other precious metals, made their way south to be sold in markets across Redania, Novigrad and even Temeria.

That was why Ry was here.

The road had to be cleared. Already patrols of guardsmen had gone up and down the highway once the snows had begun to melt securing the path from bandits, but they, unlike a witcher, were unequipped to clear the path of monsters. Ry was here to make certain that nothing sinister had taken stretches of the highway as their hunting grounds.

For the past month she had been on the road. Riding through the seemingly endless moors, which were only interrupted by flashes of thick pine woods, always on the lookout for beasts. This was her first 'contract' without her master's supervision, and that had put Ry on edge. After her trek south had been completed, however, and she began her ride north, she came to the conclusion that this was merely a test of her patience, though the witcher would still perform the task to the best of her ability.

Now, though, the tone quickly shifted.

The first sign something was wrong were the crows. Ry could see them, at least a dozen, circling near the road. A thicket of trees obscured what they circled from her view.

"Probably just a dead deer." Ry mumbled to herself. "What do you think Grey?" The stallion purred it's lips in what Ry believed to be a reply. She chuckled and patted the horse.

The witcher and the stallion made their way down the road, eventually entering the thicket. After passing through, she pulled the reins on Grey.

Blood; it filled the air.

Sure, she had smelt it before. She had felled many beasts, the stench of blood strong when she did. This was different though. This was human blood. Human blood always sent her to a dark place in her mind. The witcher nearly fell off her horse, and a terrible feeling washed over her. Voices whispered in her head.

"We will make you strong!"

Ry was in a waking nightmare. Heavy breathing, and a cold sweat.

Fear. It was something witchers were not supposed to be able to feel. The mutagens lessened its grip, from what she could understand from Gael's lectures. It made witchers arrogant, to feel invincible. Ry had felt that strength, seeing blood spill, hearing the screams and roars of monsters, feeling the rush of combat. Never was she scared of any monster.

But now she was terrified.

"Calm... It isn't real... All sound and fury... Nothing more..."

With a deep breath in, she spurred Grey forward. She directed the stallion toward the source of the scent, despite Grey's protests, who seemed to also detest the scent of blood. It didn't take long to find it. The witcher had already heard the crows cawing, but now she could see all of them. There were scores of them, all feasting on the carrion that Ry believed once was a caravan.

She was able to make out the wreckage of two wagons and one broken carriage still upright, lodged into a tree at the edge of the clearing. The wagons were smashed to bits, wooden fragments laid across the road and within the underbrush next to it. Their cargo was still present amidst it all, or at least much of it; this was not a robbery. Dismounting Grey, she tied the horse off and made her way closer to the destroyed caravan.

As soon as she closed the crows flew away, revealing the shattered remains of the members of the caravan. Ry was not squeamish but she couldn't help but feel slightly disturbed. The witcher had seen horrible maulings at the maws of hounds, men cut in twain by axe and sword, but this... This was different.

These men had been crushed, to put it lightly. The guards of the caravan, who were in plate mail, had been smashed inside the armor, blood oozing out from every crevice and crack. Others had been felled by a slash, tearing one poor man clean in half. Ry examined them carefully, looking for what beast caused this.

"Hmm, let's see," Ry said to herself, with a hint of anxiety to her voice. She knelt low, squinting at the claw mark of one victim; a fellow wearing a once fine yellow doublet and matching pants.

"Claw marks are too narrow to be a fiends. Though..."

She looked over her shoulder, looking at a smashed in armor chest plate of another victim.

"Clearly a big beast..."

Ry paused, deep in thought.

Standing tall again, the witcher slowly made her way around the shattered caravan. Ry was in deep contemplation, searching in her mind what sort of beast would cause so much damage. It was on the tip of her tongue, teasing her.
"Help!"

Ry's hands went silver sword on her back, drawing it slightly from its scabbard, ready to fight. Her eyes were fixed on the source of the plea, the carriage. Ry did not react, instead she waited for it to call out again. The witcher focused her senses, listening intently.

"Is... Is someone out there?"

Clearly human, or elf, she thought to herself. Ry slid her silver sword back, and slowly, she approached the carriage, passively placing the same hand on the hilt of her steel sword that was at her hip. Listening closely she could clearly hear the heavy breathing of a person inside it. When she came within ten feet of it she finally spoke up.

"It's alright! You can come out now."

The carriage door slowly opened, and out stepped a middle aged man, wearing fine clothing. A scraggly black beard covered a pudgy face, and the blue eyes above it scanned the area frightfully. The eyes finally met Ry's and the man jumped, at first, then relaxed again.

"Thank you sir..." He paused, squinting at Ry. "I meant, ma'am."

Ry rolled her eyes, she took her hand off her sword, and adopted a less aggressive stance.

"Tell me, ma'am, are you a knight by chance?" The man asked slowly approaching Ry.

Ry shrugged, she didn't like revealing the fact that she was a witcher; it often made things harder than they had to be. "What happened here?"

"A beast! That's what happened!"

Ry sighed. "Can you maybe give a little more detail?"

"Well." The man put a hand on his flabby flank. "It had the head and horns of a goat. But was big as an ox."

"Ah, so a chort."

"A what?"

"A chort." Ry begun to explain. "Hideous beast. Tends to be very territorial. Probably why it decided to stomp on your caravan."

"Well, some fair warning would've been nice!" The man grew angry. "Why wasn't I warned about these beasts when we set off!"

Ry shrugged again. "Could've been forced off its land by something. Don't know what though... Winter does shake up the hierarchy..." Ry soon realized she was losing the man. "Look, just, uh, head down the road," -She pointed down the road heading north.- "A few miles, you'll run into a town, there you can get a horse."

"A few miles?! Do I look like a peasant?! Why not lend me your horse."

"Cause Grey will throw you off, doesn't like strangers." Ry replied flatly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have a monster to kill."

"Now listen here you-"

Ry removed her hood, her mutant eyes now glaring at the man. "Beat it. Beast may come back for seconds."

At that the man began to briskly, then change to a full sprint down the the road. Ry internally sighed, she hated that. The witcher wasn't good with... people. The thought of having to deal with normal humans perturbed her greatly. She was a freak, she knew that. She knew how they would react. To Ry, it was useless to try to reason with humans. If it wasn't her height, or build that intimated people, it was her mutant eyes, or the medallion around her neck.

Ry shook her head. Enough of that, she thought to herself, back to work. The witcher scoured the scene of the attack for tracks which could lead her to the chort's nest. They tended to live in caves or thick groupings of trees. Though besides this grove, trees were in short supply in Kovir, and very few caves south of the mountains. That's what puzzled Ry, chorts rarely left the mountains. More than likely it was forced from its old nest, which was odd; few things could do that.

Ry did pick up on the trail, which, after investigation, was quite obvious. Toppled over trees and crushed underbrush tipped her off to where the chort begun its attack, and where it left. Strangely, the tracks leaving were on three legs rather than four.

"Could've been wounded..." She mused looking at the trail. "Nah, no blood... Might've taken one of the travelers."

The princess being taken by the beast, and the noble knight coming to her rescue; a fairy tale everyone had heard at least once, Ry no exception. Like all fantasies, there was a grain of truth to them. Chorts were know to take fallen prey to their nests for later meals. Sometimes the poor bastards would still be alive, too afraid to move, or simply unable to. The thought of being taken in such manner disturbed Ry.

Ry buried those thoughts quickly, the hunt was on.

The trail soon lead her out from the woods and into the moors which surrounded them. They were beautiful in their seemingly infinite sprawl across the horizon, only to be so rudely interrupted by the great Graig Lwyd mountains, their peaks still covered in snow and ice. Had she not been on the trail of a chort, Ry would more than likely had chosen to camp here, the beautiful vistas of Kovir always tingled her urge to draw.

Tracking on the moors was a much simpler task then in the thick woods. The trail was clear, chort's weren't known for being light footed, and the soft ground left by the rainfall two nights ago aided Ry greatly. The sun was now high in the sky, and Ry wagered it was midday when she finally spotted the nest.

Crotching low, the witcher slowly advanced up towards it, sword in hand. Her medallion did not hum, her eyes did not see the chort, nor did any smell or sound alert her to the beasts presence. What she did hear was breathing, coming from the nest. It was quick, yet quiet, barely audible to Ry's mutated hearing. Still holding her blade in hand, she finally reached the nest.

The nest itself was constructed with rocks, dirt, and the bones of previous meals. The smell emitting from it greatly offended Ry; the odor of an unwashed beast was the only sign that the chort had been here, recently too. Making one last approach to the nest she peered in to see what she feared the chort had done; taking a captive.

A thin, wavy brown haired woman looked to Ry with pale blue eyes, filled with fright. She was petrified, unable to move. Ry lowered her guard, brought the sword into a neutral position as to not raise alarm. She put a finger to her mouth to keep the women silent. She scanned the horizon for signs of the beast, and was satisfied that it was not near. Though now Ry had a new problem; helping the woman.

"W-who are you?" She whispered, her voice trembled with fear. "I-Is it near?"

"No." Ry said flatly. The witcher extended a hand to the woman. "Come. Get up. We need to move."

"W-w-what about the beast?"

Ry sighed, she needed the woman to be calm for their escape to be successful. "Chort must be out looking for food or something. Point is it ain't here, so we need to leave. Now."

The women hesitated for a moment before taking the witcher's hand. Ry pulled her up and helped her out of the nest. The women's blue and white dress had been ruined by multiple tears and stains of mud and blood, but not her own. Her arms quaked and her legs shook as she stood next to Ry, coming only to the witcher's bicep in height. The women strained her neck to meet the witcher's gaze.

"A-are you a witcher?"

Ry nodded. "Aye. Come, we must move." Ry motioned eastward. "We make a hard march, we can reach the road. I have a horse, we will make it to Damerell before nightfall."

"How did you-"

"I'll explain later, now we must move."

The two began a quick march through the moor. Ry kept a brisk pace, aiding the woman who was still clearly worn from the whole experience. She still trembled, her neck looking north; toward the foothills which seem to act as the precursor for the steep mountains. Ry caught on to the woman's concerned gaze.

"It went north?"

The women turned back to Ry. "What?"

"The beast; it went north?"

"Oh. Um, yes. Yes it did. I know not why but it-it went north."

"Then that's better for us, we're heading away-"

Ry then heard a scream.

It wasn't of a woman, or of a man, but a girl's. Ry jerked her head towards the source of the sound: back to the nest. Standing on the crest above the nest was a little girl with ashen hair, wearing a white nightgown. Ry, surprisingly could not make out the rest of her features. She squinted at the girl trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"Was anyone else with you?"

The woman stared at Ry, confused. "N-No... I-I was the only one the beast took." She looked towards the way they had came. "W-What are you looking at? The beast! Is it coming for us?!"

Ry drew her silver sword, something about all of this unsettled her. The little girl disappeared behind the rise, she turned to the women. "Get back to the road. Run as fast as you can."

"What are you going to do?"

"Someone else is at that nest." Ry murmed. "Just go!"

The women did not stay any longer. Following the witcher's instructions she began a fast paced walk which broke out into a sprint. Ry watched the woman for a few moments before turning back to what caught her attention before: the little girl. She too broke out into a dead sprint, aiming to reach the nest before the chort could. Tearing through the moor Ry crested the rise and came to see-

Nothing.

All that was there was exactly how she had left it. The witcher looked confusedly around the nest, looking for any signs of the young girl.

But the chort had arrived.

First she heard it. Heavy, deep breaths, accompanied by pounding hooves drew her sight north. Ry's eyes met angry, hungry beastly eyes that stared at the witcher from about thirty, forty yards away. She cursed herself for not checking her medallion, nor stopping and listening for the beast.

The chort let out a feral roar as it dug its claws deep into the earth, readying itself for battle. Ry reached onto the belt that ran across her chest, holding her silver sword scabbard, and pulled out a vial of green liquid. She bit and pulled the cork off, spitting it out. Ry got one wiff of the potion and furrowed her nose.

"Thunderbolt. Why does it always smell like shit..."
Downing the potion in one swig she felt her muscles tighten up, her body was filled with energy. Her face adopted a wicked smile as she turned back to the chort. Despite the energy coursing through her veins and the urge to slash the chort into bloody ribbons she needed to control herself. She begun to slow her breathing, her smile vanished as she returned herself to the calm, collected self she needed to be. The chort roared again, smashing the ground with it' claws. Ry readied herself, casting the Sign of Quen, then raised her silver blade holding it in both hands, and pointed towards the chort. Those few seconds of utter silence as the witcher and monster stared each other down felt like hours in Ry's mind.

Then it seemingly happened all at once.

The chort thundered across the moor, smashing its nest carelessly along the way. It bounded at the last step of the charge, claws outstretched to mawl the witcher. Ry felt the beast's breath as she barely able jump away from it's strike, slashing the chort as it landed. Quickly she rolled further away from the chort, giving herself distance to respond, but not enough for the monster to gain momentum. This played into her advantage as the chort widely clawed at her, opening itself up and allowing Ry to land minor strikes.

Ry then got cocky.

Thinking she was clever, the witcher attempted to feint then flank the chort. It succeeded, to a degree. Ry fiented, the chort sweeping where she was, but then brought the claw back, hard, slamming her with the back of it. The witcher shield that surrounded her cracked then bursted into a brilliant orange spectacle, which was accompanied by a shriek of pain. Ry laid on the ground for the briefest of moments, dazed, ears ringing. Her sword was out of her hands, she could see it, just out of reach. She turned, though her vision was blurry she could see the chort, charging towards her.

"Rylie?"

Ry then heard someone: a little girl. Standing a few yards away from her was the same girl that had spurred the witcher to return to the nest in the first place. Though Ry could not get a good look at her. Despite this something was all too familiar about her. The only thing that came to focus was the little girl's hand which formed a sign: Igni. At that, Ry smiled.

The chort did yet another mad dash towards the now 'unarmed' witcher aiming to end the fight here and now. Ry bolted to her feet, and mustered all the energy and focus she could, and concentrated it all through the Sign Igni. Fire spewed forth from her hands. A cone of flame enveloped the charging chort, causing it to yelp in fear and reel onto its hind legs.

Ry acted quickly. Dashing forward she sled across the wet earth, snatching the silver sword and resumed running towards the chort. The beast was still putting fires out on it's fur when the witcher strike. The silver sword slipped through it's raised arm pit, through the right lung and into it's heart.

Twist. Pull.

Blood.

It now thoroughly stained her clothes as the chort keeled over onto it's left side, dead. Her breaths were still controlled, though there was a faint smile on her face. This was Ry's first real monster slaying without her master's aid. Though the potion began to wear off, the beast's blow, while not breaking anything, still set her shoulder and bicep on fire.

Ry then remembered the girl.

The witcher panicked for a moment as she searched her surroundings for any signs of the girl. To her shock there was no girl. She paused for thought: was the girl ever really there? Ry internally panicked. 'Am I losing my mind?'

Ry shook her head, casting any similar thoughts out of her mind. Her mind returned back to the task at hand; getting that women home. Before she left, however, she proceeded to collect her trophy: the chort's head. It took nearly half an hour but she was able to free the beasts head from it's shoulders. Using a hook to hold it, Ry then begun the trek back to the road. Ry saw the trail the women left, and followed it for a while before seeing it lead onto the road. Thinking that she was safe Ry turned back towards the thicket where this all begun and started walking. It was late in the afternoon when she returned to Grey, who neighed at the site of his rider.

"I know." Ry said with a grin. "Sorry for making you wait."

The stallion purred his lips and looked away.

"Come on Grey, lighten up." Ry she said putting a hand on the stallion. She hooked on the trophy she had collected onto the saddle, giving a momentary gaze. "Tell you what. I'll wash you down once we get to Damerell, how about that?"

The stallion seemed to nod, looking at Ry with the best expression a horse could make to convey 'Are you serious?'

"Promise is a promise Grey. Now come on," Ry mounted the stallion. "We got to get moving."

The pair made their way down the road and pass the wreckage. Upon exiting the woods she was greeted with a breathtaking sight; the White Walls of Exeter. The massive cliffs which discouraged invasion after invasion were one of the most iconic land markers of the kingdom next to the Graig Lwyd mountains. She took a moment to take in the imposing cliffs before spurring Grey forward.

Ry then saw the women from earlier. She was leaned up against a sign post. Ry remember passing by it going south. The fork split the road either going to Lan Exeter or to Grand Wall, the farest northern city in Kovir. As Ry grew closer to the road sign the women didn't seem to react until the witcher was in shouting distance. At first the women seem to spring up, aiming to run, then recognized the green of Ry's armor. She then seem to relax and lean on the sign.

"You're alive!" She shouted at Ry. "I heard you and the beast fighting... Thought you died."

"Takes a lot more than a chort to fell me." Ry said with a small grin.

"Think you could give me a ride?" The women asked.

"If Grey will allow it..." Ry said passively, she extended a hand down to the women. The first attempt getting her on the horse was met with failure as Grey thrashed and pulled away from the women.

"Grey. Don't make me use Axii." With that threat Grey seemed to calm down. The second attempt was much more successful, the women climbed on, sitting in front of Ry in the saddle.

"I'm Helen by the way." The women said with a smile. "Thank you for saving me."

"Ry, and don't mention it."

The ride was silent, except for the crashing of the waves against the cliffs next to the road. Ry kept a steady speed, taking extra precautions due to the extra passenger. Helen grew less tense as they rode down the road, the consistent clopping along the cobbles seemed to have a hypnotic effect on the women.

"Strange..." Helen finally spoke, as if she came to some realization.

"What is?" Ry asked.

"You're the first she-witcher I've ever met." Helen said looking over her shoulder. "Thought only men could be witchers."

"I'm the only one..." Ry said a bit dejected.

"Oh? I'm sorry i didn't mean-"

Ry raised a hand. "It's alright. No need to apologize."

Helen then turned back around, though she did ask another question. "Are you... The last of your kind?"

Ry was silent for a few seemingly long moments before saying "Don't know." Ry looked out over the ocean. "Don't remember much past three years ago. Remember a little on how to be a witcher, and that is about it."

"Oh... I'm terribly sorry about all... This. I didn't mean to open old wounds."

Ry shook her head. "Master suggests I talk about it more often. Grief has a tendency to loose it's hold the more you speak of it."

"So you have a lord you serve?"

"Well..." Ry tried to best explain it, looking back to the road. "My master is Gael, he's a much more experience witcher. Was the one to find me... That's another story entirely though." She continued on. "Anyway, Gael serves King Tankred-"

"Your master serves King Tankred?!" Helen asked blown away.

Ry became a little flustered. "Um, yes, Gael pledged himself to the king and is now the court witcher. Now I serve the king through Gael, so to speak."

"Ah, I see." Helen said nodding. "I'm from Temeria actually. Came here with the caravan."

Ry nodded. "Hm, long ways to travel. Why did you come along?"

Helen shrugged. "Well. Just wanted to see the world, y'know. Father was a soldier for many years before he hung his blade over the mantel and became a farmer." She spoke wistfully. "Guess I just have his blood; always wanting to see the world... Too bad I don't have his spirit."

Ry didn't pick up on Helen's dejected nature, instead turning attention ahead. "Got here early. Good."

The town of Damerel was a quiet town built next to a creek which ran water down off into the sea. Tall, white stone walls guarded it from both brigands and beasts, a few guard towers surrounded the town, archers in them, keeping watch. As they closed to Damerel a mounted guardsmen passed by them, wearing the colors of house Gendry; the Boar adnored his shield.

Passing through the gate into the town proper Ry's senses were bombarded. Smells of meats cooking, and bread baking, too smith hammering and carpenters sawing too Ry aback for a moment. She wasn't able to enjoy it for long. A guardsmen came from the gate house looking at Ry intently. She knew him, his brown hair, brown eyes, strong jaw and shoulders reminded the witcher of someone, though she could not place him.

"Ah, witcher, you've returned."

"Ah, Yoven." Ry said, remembering the sergeant's name upon hearing his high pitched voice. "Glad to see your still well."

"Same to you, and," He motioned to the women. "Who is this?"

"Helen, I'm from Temeria." Helen introduced herself. "My caravan was attacked by a beast. This witcher saved my life."

Yoven nodded. "Ah, you must be apart of the Franklin company." He motioned to the guardsmen behind him. "Me and the lads were about to go out and search. Your caravan master came by."

Helen let out a groan. "'Course he'd be alive." With help from Ry, Helen dismounted Grey. "Where is he?"

"The local inn, he's recovering from a long march." Yoven pointed behind him. "I would follow her witcher, seems your master has similar tastes."

Ry raised an eyebrow. "I was supposed to meet him in Lan Exeter. What is he doing here?"

"Wouldn't say, your ears only."

Ry dismounted Grey as well, opting to guide him by the reins. "Thanks for telling me."

"You helped me before, remember? The trolls?"

Ry chuckled. "Yes. The ice trolls. Just remember, not all monster need to be killed."

Yoven smiled, and motioned towards the tavern. "Wish for me to walk you over."

"I can find my way, thank you though."

"Oh." The guardsmen seemed somewhat dejected. "Well. Need to start patrolling anyway..."

"Aye, good day." Ry said with a smile.

Ry guided Grey by the reins following behind Helen as they made their way through the town to the tavern. It was late in the afternoon so the streets were still crowded with people. Ry kept a hand on Grey's nose, keeping the horse calm. It was like Ry in that sense; didn't like people all that much.

"You know he smitten you?"

Helen's comment threw the witcher off. "What?"

Helen giggled, looking over her shoulder at Ry. "The guardsmen. Didn't you notice how he looked at you?"

"Huh?"

"Gods you're hopeless." Helen said turning back around.

"No, what do you mean?" Ry asked now feeling embarrassed.

Helen looked over her shoulder again. "He thought you were beautiful. That's why he wanted to walk with you."

Ry looked away from Helen. "Your crazy. I'm no fair maid."

"Maybe that's what he likes." Helen said looking down the road. "The bards say love comes in all forms."

"They also say some witcher destroyed the whole Wild Hunt, and that the emperor's daughter is a witcher now." Ry said in a dismissive tone.

"And that's your problem Ry."

"What is?"

Helen turned to face Ry. "You're too cynical."

Ry rolled her eyes at that comment. She put little stock in the songs of bards, and the words of poets. It was the one thing she liked about her profession. In her mind, being a witcher was simple, straight forward. There was no need for long, pointless, to her at least, philosophical debate. A witcher just needed to keep their wits about them, and their eyes and ears open. Not that she didn't do that, she recalled many conversations with Gael over mulled wine about life and the Path many a times. Her master reminder, often, that she was a lucky girl. Many witchers didn't have the opportunities she was given. Finally they arrived at the inn. It was a tall building, built with stone and mortar, a great sign which read 'White Rock Inn' adorned the mantel of the building. Helen turned to Ry as the witcher was tieing off her stallion far from the other horses.

"Well." Helen extended a hand. "Thanks. For... Everything."

Ry nodded, and shook the woman's hand. "Again. No need."

"There is a need. Kindness unthanked leads good men down dark paths." Helen said with a smile, which quickly disappeared with a sigh, "Now I need to find that bastard who ran the caravan. See if I'm still going to get any pay."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks, going to need it."

Helen first entered the tavern, and disappeared into the maze of tables and stools. Ry came in soon after, thankful for once she was tall. It allowed her to see over the sea of people inside the inn. Though she was also thankful Gael wasn't a hard man to find. Tucked away in the corner sat a strong looking man, with a long braided red beard, and a fading red hair to match. His red tabard with the crest of the king, a armored arm, proudly displayed on his chest, concealed the rest of his Ursine gear. In his hand a tankard of what Ry assumed to be a stout, guessing only by her master's pervious drinks. He spotted Ry and beckoned her over. She did not refuse, navigating through the crowd eventually arriving at the table, a stool already portioned for her.

"Running late." Gael said with a smirk.

"Apologize, chrot got in the way." Ry said sitting down.

"That would do it." Gael said taking a drink from his tankard. "That the only beast you encountered."

"Few trolls when I headed south." Ry begun cracking her knuckles passively. "Said they got kicked off their land. Wanted a new one. Convinced them to go back through a game of riddles."

"Taught you well." Gael said with a smirk. "Now." He said reaching into his satchel. "Got this via rider in the night," He pulled out a piece of parchment. "Why I'm here." He tossed it onto the table.

Ry took it and read it. "Hm. 'Report to Pont Vanis, post haste. Bring your apprentice.' Already moved to the summer capital?"

Gael shrugged. "Our king seems impatient. If he's moved to Vanis already, it leads me to think something has gone wrong."

Ry nodded. "I take it we ride tomorrow."

Gael nodded. "Don't drink too much, want you well and aware when we ride."
"Would expect this much, why not get a head start?" Ry asked her master.

"Innkeeper owes me a favor. Free nights stay. Why turn it down?"

"Because their are... Well-"

"People?" Gael asked with a wide smile on his face. "Come now, most of them are harmless."

"But... still."

Gael let out a hearty laugh. "Never understood that about you. You get a nice night stay at an inn and you wish for a bed roll out in the cold."

"You know why." Ry grumbled. "Folk don't like us. Think we're freaks and what not."

"Not all of them." Gael said with a smirk. "Guardsmen Yoven seemed to think the opposite. Asked if you were promised to anyone."

Ry looked down at the table, her face turning red. "Please... Stop."

Gael chuckled. "Come now. Smile. You bagged your first beast, without my aid, and there is a young, handsome lad out their pining for ya. You should be celebrating."

Ry chuckled, then remembered something. "About that..." She tried to best say what she was thinking. "During the fight... I saw someone."

Gael nodded, his face turning serious. "Go on."

Ry tapped her finger on the table nervously. "A girl... Young. All in white, even had matching hair... She seemingly lured me to the chort... Then showed me the sign igni."

Gael's eyes widened. "You casted it?"

"Yeah, funny thing, you hadn't taught me that sign." Ry said thinking back on it.

Gael stroked his beard. "She say anything?"

Ry nodded. "A name. Rylie. Think that could be my real name..." She shook her head. "Must be going mad."

"You're not mad, Ry." Gael reassured his nervous apprentice. "Adrenaline does things to young witchers. Were you on potions?"

"For the first sighting, no, but I was... On edge."

"Then there you go. " He waved his hand, almost as if he was dismissing Ry's fears. "I've seen mad men. They don't think they're crazy. It's when you start thinking you're the only sane one when you should be worried."

Ry smirked, sighing in relief. "They got mulled wine here?"

"Think so. Just don't drink too much." Gael reminded his apprentice with a smirk. "Don't want you waking up in the stables."
"It was one time." Ry said slightly red in the face. She then grinned mischievously at her master as a thought occurred to her."If we're keeping score, how about that one time you swore animals were talking to you."

"That was a bad brew of swallow, doesn't count."