Heyoo! Guess who's back! And with a new story! Now, you may notice the title, and are scratching your head. Yes, I am a fan of the Witcher. Moreso the games and the Netflix series than the original novels. But, in terms of the Witcher side of things, I'm going to be using the games as my reference. Anywho, it's my first story involving the Witcher. Now, for the disclaimers! "The Witcher" is owned by Andrzej Sapkowski and published by SuperNowa Orbit Books. "Fire Emblem" and all associated is owned by Intelligent Systems and Nintendo.
[23rd of the Red Wolf Moon]
[Imperial Year 1164]
[Southwest of Derdriu, capital city of the Leicester Alliance]
[No P.O.V.]
The area to the southwest of the aquatic capital of the Alliance became a maelstrom of death and bloodshed. A fierce battle had commenced between some common mercenaries, and a massive, grotesque caricature of life: a demonic beast. The beast had been engaged by a band of mercenaries on a contract by the leadership of house Riegan, as the creature had disrupted trade between houses Riegan and Daphnel.
"SIR! We need to get back to-AUGH!" A female mercenary cried out, before the demonic beast suddenly cut her life short, the beast's claw leaving a large gash, practically cutting her in half.
"Dammit! Not another one!" The one the mercenary called "sir" cursed. Taking notice of the bodies of his fallen comrades, the man stood at an imposing height, with dirty-blonde hair and a beard covering his lower jaw. His outfit consists of chainmail covered by an orange tunic. his arms covered by gauntlets, with a pauldron on his left shoulder almost resembling a shoulder cape.
"Look! on the horizon! There's someone on a horse!" Shouted an archer, as the knight-looking figure looked up. And as he said, cresting the top of the hill, was a lone rider, drawing a sword from his back, gleaming silver like the moonlight, with a pinching v-shaped crossguard. The rider, dressed in dark clothing, and leather armor, rode up to the demonic beast, jumping off his steed and performed a one-armed downward slash on the wild monster, the blade causing the cut to burn the beast, making it howl in pain and rage.
'Mad dastard. He managed to wound the damn thing.' The mercenary leader thought, rushing into the fray, Steel Lance ready, he leapt into the air, jabbing the demonic beast in its eye, causing a blackish liquid to gush out of the eye, as the mysterious swordsman, slashed and stabbed at the beasts' hide, the mercenary leader falling to the ground with a pained grunt, whilst the swordsman made a gesture with his hand, sending a small jet of flame come out of his hand, burning the monster further.
"Jeralt! Are you all right?" A male spearman asked, running over to the man, Jeralt Reus Eisner, the Blade Breaker. Former Captain of the Knights of Seiros.
"Y-yeah, I'm OK." Jeralt replied, as the swordsman managed to kill the monster. The former Knight of Seiros managed to stand and walk up to the swordsman, getting a better look at him, Jeralt saw hair, white as snow, and skin just as pale. His eyes were amber in color, with his pupils similar to a cats. On his back was, what looked like a regular sword. He had a small scar on his forehead, in the upper-right. What drew Jeralt's attention, however, was the silver medallion in the shape of a wolf's head around the man's neck.
"So, that's one of Fodlan's infamous demonic beasts? Not much when compared to the monsters back home." The swordsman said in a gruff, almost detached tone of voice. The mercenaries looking at the slain demonic beast, as Jeralt looked the cat-eyed stranger in the eyes as he sheathed his blade.
"So, what's one of your kind doing in Fodlan?" Jeralt asked the stranger, as the other mercenaries scrambled to treat their wounded, and make preparations for burials.
"I take it that this is the traditional Fodlan way of giving thanks for saving someone's ass?" The stranger snarked, making the ex-knight roll his eyes.
"I mean, what is a Witcher doing in the Leicester Alliance?" The Blade Breaker asked the man, the Witcher, as said monster hunter sighed.
"I'm here on request from the lord of a noble house here in the Alliance. Gloucester, I think." The Witcher replied, drinking a vial. A potion of some kind.
"Gloucester? Shit." Jeralt groaned, as he approached the Witcher, "So, how much did they offer?"
"Simple chest full of gold." The Witcher replied, nonchalantly. "I just took what I needed. Enough to cover room and board at an inn."
"Fain enough. So, what do I have to give you as reward for saving the lives of me and my soldiers?" Jeralt said, making the Witcher look at the mercenary leader.
"Tell me, have you heard of the Law of Surprise?" The Witcher asked, making the knight pale, nodding his head as he does so. "Well, I want, the first thing that comes to greet you." The Witcher added, Jeralt gulping nervously.
[Later that night]
As the Witcher and the former captain of the Knights of Seiros arrived at the villa of House Riegan, they were met by a young boy, no older than five. His hair and eyes sharing a greenish coloration.
"Papa! You're back!" The boy cheered, running up to Jeralt. The young boy, Jeralt's five year old son, Belial looked at his father, then at the Witcher, a look of confusion adorning his young face. "Papa, who's this?" The young lad asked his father, who only now realized what the Witcher had meant about "the first thing that comes to greet you."
"Oh Goddess… Not him, anyone but my son!" Jeralt said after several seconds.
"The Law of Surprise is clear." The Witcher replied, the mercenary leader looked ready to fight the monster hunter, but relented. Sagging his shoulders, Jeralt turned to his young son, tears beginning to form, and kneeled down to meet him eye to eye.
"Belial, I... I need you to go and pack some things." Jeralt told his son, "You're going somewhere."
"Oh, okay." Belial responded, "I'm gonna get Byleth, and-"
"N-no, Belial, it's, it's just you going. Your sister and I, are staying." Jeralt replied, moving to grab a bag, only for the Witcher to grab one, and start stuffing clothes for young Belial into it.
"Papa, I... what's going on?" Belial asked, fear starting to creep into his voice, as the Witcher suddenly, took Belial by the hand, leading him out the door, "Papa, I don't wanna go!" Belial cried out, calling for his father, the Witcher dragging the poor boy to his horse, as Jeralt could only watch, helpless, as his son was dragged out of the villa.
"I'm, so sorry Belial." Jeralt said to no one but himself.
"PAPA!" Belial cried, his hand outstretched towards his father, as him and the Witcher rode off into the night.
[East of Remire Village, Adrestian Empire]
[17th of the Great Tree Moon]
[Imperial Year 1180]
[15 Years Later]
'PAPA!' Cried out a young boy, causing a set of eyes to jolt open. Those eyes, amber in color, with slit pupils like a cat's, belonging to a young man, about twenty-one years of age, with seafoam hair, pale skin, marred only by a single scar running diagonally acr and armor, made at Kaer Morhen, complete with two swords strapped to his back, and a silver medallion, shaped like a wolf's head, dangling around his neck.
"Hey, you all right?" Asked the driver of the wagon, to the young Witcher.
"Yeah, nightmare." The Witcher replied, sitting up, the light fully shining to reveal Belial, a full-fledged Witcher. "Haven't had them in months.
"Huh, didn't think such an obvious hard-arsed bastard like you could get nightmares." The wagon driver added with a hearty laugh, as the wagon pulled into the village of Remire, a small village in the center of the Adrestian Empire. Said village sits at the foot of the expansive Oghma Mountains, near the border with the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. "Well, here we are, Remire Village!" The wagon driver called out, him and Belial disembarking from the wagon, seeing not just villagers native to Remire walking about, but mercenaries on patrol.
"Huh, didn't think that the military would roll in." Belial muttered to himself.
"Heh, these aren't Adrestian soldiers, they're mercenaries." The wagon driver said, helping to off-load supplies from the wagon's rear. "They're from a mercenary company led by Jeralt Eisner." Upon hearing the name of his father, Belial looked at him.
"Jeralt?" Belial asked, as the wagon driver chuckled.
"Yep, Jeralt the Blade Breaker. The most famous mercenary in all of Fodlan." The wagon driver replied, "Don't tell me you haven't heard of 'im?"
"Can't say that I have." Belial curtly answered, walking away, "I'm heading to whatever passes for a tavern here." The Young Witcher said, ignoring the protest from the wagon driver.
'Great, of all the villages in all the world, I somehow ended up in the same one as my bastard father.' Belial thought, looking around the village, when the sounds of a gate opening up were heard, and some people running towards the gate.
"Captain Jeralt and the others have come back!" Shouted the voice of a lookout, as a group of seven mercenaries, all on horseback, one figure being easily recognizable as Jeralt. Next to him, on another horse, was a young woman, about Belial's age, with the same hair color as Belial, but with eyes that actually matched. Along with an armor top, shorts, floral tights, boots and a coat that hung off her shoulders akin to a cape, strapped to her side, was a standard Iron Sword. Although it's been fifteen years, Belial easily could recognize his twin sister from anywhere. Particularly due to her blank, emotionless stare.
"Byleth..." Belial breathed, pushing past the crowd, before finally stopping when he broke through, Jeralt and Byleth getting off their horses.
"All right, all right. We'll discuss everything later. Preferably after I've had a drink or two." Jeralt muttered, as Byleth handed off her horse to a stablehand.
"I'm heading off to the fishing pond." Byleth said simply, preparing to leave before accidentally bumping into Belial, "Oops, I'm sorry." Byleth apologized quickly, before Belial quickly grabbed her arm, and spun her around. "Hey!" Byleth cried out, before socking Belial in the face knocking him to the ground, Jeralt quickly running to see what was going on.
"Kid, are you OK? I heard you scream, so I ran over to see what's wrong, but I see you got... things... handled... Goddess." Jeralt said, looking down, before his eyes widened, recognizing his own son.
"Dad, is everything all right?" Byleth asked her father, as Belial began chuckling.
"Glad to see you've still got a mean right hook." Belial coughed, getting up, "Looks like you haven't changed at all in fifteen years, eh By-By?" He added, cracking his neck.
"Wait, By-By? The only one who ever called me by that name..." Byleth trailed off, looking at Belial intently, before her own eyes widened in recognition. "Belial?"
Holy mother of God, I seriously meant to get this out MUCH sooner. But, yep. Here it is, the first chapter of "The Witcher of Fodlan!" Hopefully you guys like it. Anyway, I'm going to unwind for the night (assuming I post this on time) before resuming work on "Borderlands: Remnant Minds." So, until then, don't forget to read and review, and I'll see you all next time! Be good people, y'all.