Geralt cautiously approached the cave, holding a torch in his left hand, and his silver blade in the right. He was being driven increasingly agitated by the pain in his side but did his best to ignore it. Geralt's body could heal from an embedded projectile, provided it didn't damage his lungs or spine. For now, he would focus on getting a safe place for the night. He could have drank a Cat potion, but he wanted to ration his alchemy supplies. He'd need to find whole new recipes if he wanted to stay alive.
Geralt didn't see anything inside the cave that alarmed him, besides for an unknown type of fungi that he took a sample of. It was reasonably small but long enough that if he lit his fire around the corner, it wouldn't be seen outside the cave. While still driving off any creatures inside the cave. That was if the creatures of this world were even afraid of fire. Who was he to guess such a thing? Plenty of monsters weren't phased in the slightest by fire.
He saw a narrow passage that led further down the cave, but it was too small for Geralt to get through. Geralt laid out a line of salt at the gap, then drew the sign of Yrden to block the path. Then, with the room more safely secured, left the cave to gather firewood. It didn't take him long to gather a sizable pile and light it with Igni. Geralt then sat down, the pain in his side increasingly driving him insane.
Geralt peeled off his Wolf School armor and glanced down at the wound. It was a large bloody puncture wound. He checked other side, not feeling a similar wound.
Damn thing must be embedded inside me. He thought, unsheathed a dagger, and began cutting open the wound so he could remove whatever was stuck inside of him. He didn't make a noise as he felt his dagger scrape against something metallic. Digging in further, Geralt was confident he'd loosened the projectile. He reached into hole, using his finger and the tip of his knife to free up the object, allowing him to rip it out. Geralt glanced at the offending object, a small lead ball. Raising an eyebrow at the material, Geralt cleaned the projectile and pocketed it. Lead was a useful alchemical reagent.
It was cold and wet inside the cave, and the rocks were far too jagged to be comfortable to sleep on.
Look at me. Geralt thought. The fearsome White Wolf has trouble sleeping in caves because he spent the last year in a manor house. Yennefer was right when she said I was going soft.
Geralt reached into his bandolier for the White Raffard, and then for his belt for a vial of Swallow. Quickly taking sips from both, then putting them back. Geralt closed his eyes, put his hands together, and started to meditate, urging his body on to heal faster. As he did so, he forced his body to accelerate the healing process, all the while detaching his mind from his surroundings, entering a deep meditative trance that made him forget he was in a dirty cave instead of his Toussaint vineyard.
He thought back to the events of the day, and how he had arrived in this world.
It should have been just another Nekker contract while traveling through Nilfgaar to see what Ciri would rule one day. Something to do on the side to keep in shape. He'd gone into an Elven ruin and quickly cleared it off the Nekker infestation until he finally came upon a large central chamber with a portal in it. He'd just finished slaying the Nekkers when he'd seen the active portal. It had looked like a normal Elven portal that linked two rooms together inside of a larger palace. Thinking the Nekkers had come from the other side, Geralt had stepped through to finish his contract.
But here he was. Stuck in another world. Under a magical moon with mutagenic properties, and with rabidly xenophobic humans that almost attacked him on sight. He realized he had to leave as quickly as possible, but he had no clue how.
I told Yennefer where I was going. She'd follow my trail and eventually find the portal. It would be best if I stayed here. But what if the portal is one way? I don't want Yennefer to get stuck here with me. It will also take her a while. At least a month or two before she thinks something is wrong. I'll have to survive on my own until then.
Geralt closed his eyes, falling into a trance as he continued his meditation. All the while thinking about what to do.
Food will not be an issue. I have enough for a few with the rations I took off of those soldiers combined with my own. Potions and Oils will run short though. I don't think I can create more without first finding familiar reagents. I might have to water down my potions. But I'll need demineralized water or suitably strong alcohol for that.
I need to find someone I can talk with. Some friendly local that doesn't immediately start frothing at the mouth and trying to kill me. I'll start looking in the morning.
Geralt stopped thinking, and let his mind wander deeper into meditation. He fell into a deep sleep.
-
Geralt woke from his trance-like state and got to his feet, stretching and getting his blood flowing once more. He headed towards the exit of the cave, his wound having healed properly. Geralt glanced around outside, not seeing any sign of other humans in the area. He went back inside and began the painstaking effort of removing every last trace of his fire, so nobody could track him down. After he was done, Geraly left again, heading in the opposite direction of the battle.
The sun was shining, and the weather was quite mild, and Geralt took a moment to enjoy the sounds of birds chirping and the insects of the undergrowth. But he had no time for frivolities and quickly continued on his trail. He had to find friendly humans he could talk to, or at least arrange some kind of deal for information on whatever realm he was in. Geralt desperately wanted more information on just where he was. Find a way to make it clear he was no threat.
After several hours of travelling, he caught a whiff of a burning fire and what smelled like a herbal soup and headed in its direction. His best chance was to find an isolated farmer, hunter, or herbalist, corner them, and then confront them calmly in a way that didn't make them panic. If need be, he could calm them down with Axii. He would have done so to the soldiers from before, had they not attacked him.
The scent got stronger as he traversed the broken forest terrain, and he was able to make out that it was a herbal remedy of some kind, although there were parts of the scent he couldn't quite make out. His medallion vibrated for but a moment, indicating there were magical properties to the brew. He passed the crest of a hill and saw what looked like a small hut nestled between several large oak trees. It looked barely large enough for Geralt to stand in, let along move around. The hut was surrounded by a wide ring of wooden totems with runic glyphs carved into them. His amulet vibrated again. Geralt got the impression that whoever lived in this hut, had to be a herbalist. Some man or woman that lived in the forest and provided cures and other remedies to people. One that knew rudimentary nature magic as well.
Exactly what I was looking for. Geralt thought inwardly. If there is a human who'd talk to me, it would be a peller. Now to hope they don't scream when they see me.
Geralt approached the door of the hut and banged on the door.
"Who is it?" An old womanly voice said. "I'm not expecting visitors."
"A lost traveler." Geralt said.
"Coming, coming." The old woman said, followed by some angry cursing that Geralt couldn't quite make out.
The door opened, revealing a withered old crone half Geralt's height, with piercingly intelligent eyes. She glanced up at Geralt, backing off in surprise for but a moment, then standing her ground. "If you're gonna kill me, Vampire, make it quick. I'm too old to bother running."
Geralt held up his hands to show he didn't mean any harm. "I am not a Vampire. My name is Geralt. I'm lost in this forest."
"So not a Vampire? Hrmm. Well, you got the eyes of a mutant, boy. And the skin too!" She held up a ladle, swinging it a bit. "But you've not killed me, and you're well dressed. So I guess you're not all bad. Come in, before the draft kills me. I won't have it be known I denied a traveler."
Geralt was led into what looked like a typical witch's cabin. A single room with a handful of awkwardly shaped windows that consisted of wooden shutters instead of glass. Many herbs, dead animals, and other reagents were placed around the interior of the room or hanging from the ceiling. The furniture was all either too big or too small for Geralt. They also were of different wood types, some of which were from trees Geralt hadn't seen in the forest so far.
There was a single bed in a corner, close to a roaring fire over which a small cauldron had been placed. Inside a multicolored brew that flashed green and purple had been placed. The old hag moved back towards her bubbling brew and began tending to it again, glancing over her shoulder at Geralt.
"I've been called a Vampire, a Witch, and a demon today. Now I am being called a mutant too. I'm Geralt. I'm a human."
"Humans don't have serpent eyes, white hair, and pale skin," Ingrid said, pointing a large fingernail at Geralt's head. "But then again, you don't stink of demons to me. I guess that makes you just a freak and not a mutant. I don't sense any corruption on you." the hag muttered as she rummaged through her supplies, taking out a collection of mushrooms that she added to the brew. "Hrmm. So what do you think you are, Geralt? Just a boy with pale skin and freakish eyes? All lost in the woods and asking an old witch for help?"
Geralt chose his words carefully. "I was born a human but was changed with alchemy. Not magic or curses. Do you have nothing like that here?"
The old woman looked up, cautiously looking Geralt over. "Alchemy? So you drank some potion and your eyes turned all snake-like? Well, then I'm sorry for assuming the worst. You're welcome in my home. I won't say no to a traveler seeking sanctuary."
"Thank you, miss…?"
"Oh, call me Ingrid. I'm the local wise woman. I make remedies and cures for whoever is brave enough to come here. It's not too bad here. It is cozy in here, and I get occasional visitors giving me food and other things I need. But tell me about yourself, Geralt."
"I'm a monster hunter." Geralt avoided the word Witcher after the violent response last time. "I was sent here via a portal that dropped me in the middle of this forest. I have no clue where I even am."
"I thought I'd sensed something happening," Ingrid said. Adding raven feathers and mashed up rats to her brew. It would either be a potion, or a truly foul drink. Geralt watched her handiwork carefully to see what she was creating.
"Most humans have reacted violently to my presence so far. You're the first that didn't scream and try to kill me."
The old woman giggled. "Oh, I've had that happen to me often enough. Mostly when some Witch Hunter thinks I am an easy target." The old lady cackled. "They quickly learn I am not just a peddler of herbal remedies."
Witch Hunters. Seems you can't go anywhere without fanatics like them spreading their firebrand gospel and trying to kill alchemists, pellars, and the like. Geralt thought bitterly, thinking back to the persecution of the mages of Novigrad. Of Radovid's massacres of nonhumans, alchemists, and other healers.
Geralt's amulet began to shake. He put a hand on it to calm it. That confirmed it, he was in the presence of a hedge sorceress. A valuable ally, if he managed to win her trust.
"That thing reacts to magic?" The old woman asked, eyeing Geralt cautiously.
"It does. Seems we're both outside the law."
"Well. Sod hiding it then. You're a mutant, and I'm a 'rogue mage'. Guess we're in the same boat."
"Being honest would be good." Geralt said. "I have seen persecutions of mages before. I'll keep your secret safe, I promise."
Ingrid nodded. She poured herself a cup of her bubbling brew and drank it. Her eyes turned purple, then green, then black. She nodded, looking more invigorated than before. "What other questions do you have for me, sweetie?"
"What realm are we in?" Geralt asked. "Are we in a kingdom or a duchy?"
Ingrid tutted loudly. "Kingdom? Pfah! You're in the Empire. Strongest human nation in the world." The old hag smiled. "Middenland to be precise. We're a proud people, strong and independent from the meddling of the weak southerners. Warriors one and all. If you go north, you'll find the city of Middenheim. The strongest city in the world. Here the Cult of Ulric is still strong."
Geralt nodded. "The Cult of Ulric? Can you tell me who they are?"
"Ulric is the God of winter, war, and wolves," Ingrid said. "Most people in Middenland worship him instead of that upstart Sigmar. We have for thousands of years, and we'll do so for thousands more."
"So there are other parts to this empire. Can you tell me more?"
"I'm afraid I don't know much, dear. I've never left this valley, let alone Middenland. There's the capital of Altdorf in the Reikland to the south, Nordland is to the north. But I don't know the other province- No wait. Nuln too. It's the place where all the guns are made. I think that's to the south as well. On the river."
Better than nothing. "Thank you. Do you know who else might know more about the rest of the Empire?"
"I think you'd need to enter a city or a town, talk to a Burgomeister or trader if you want to know more. But I fear the guards would kill you for your eyes. People around here are paranoid for anything out of the ordinary. I've nearly gotten killed by zealots myself."
"Hrmm." Geralt grunted in assent. He didn't have many options at the moment. "Mind if I stayed here for a while? I'll clean this room and help you gather herbs."
"I'd quite like that, Geralt," Ingrid said. "I could use the protection, for certain. Should be some villagers coming soon to help me stock up for the winter. I think they would be your best bet for finding someone who knows more about the Empire."
Geralt nodded. "Sounds good to me."