.XIX. Place of Power.
'In my young age, I heard this story once...', began the foreigner who was the closest to the fire. The rest stood behind him in a semi-circle. A few were holding hands, others leaned on the shoulder of their lover, friend, sister or brother, while the rest sat upright or laid down, resting their heads on a piece of folded cloth or their leather satchel...
A tender breeze caressed the flames into a hypnotic dance.
'...Of a man that lost everything. His wife, children, father and mother, sister and brother, anyone he could call a friend. He even lost himself, but, that came only after he had lost everyone else. Loneliness does that to the mind. We have an identity due to society, meaning we owe it to the people around us. Identity in this context means our role in all of this, our place in the greatest creation. We, as the flames, curve and adapt to the movement of these outside stimulants that are present all around us. We change. We become...', he continued, looking at the night sky, filled with thousands of stars.
'Without identity and those stimulants to steer us towards something...We are lost alike the man I previously mentioned. A sailor on a deserted ship, floating adrift on an endless sea.'.
Those standing behind him were his students. Of various ages, they had come to the legendary hill not far from the city of the Golden Dragon. Yolwelkairr, for it was the day, the Zerrikanian people celebrated the end of the 12th month of their '9th Cycle' in their calendar. In other words, the new year. A few of those present that night were scholars, that spent the whole year away from home, wondering the cities and towns, villages and deserts, plains, caves and ruins of the majestic Zerrikanian lands gathering information, exploring and discovering new species of plants and wild life. Including other disciplines, such as archeology, geology, astronomy, gastronomy, philosophy and art, to name a few.
If one would search, one would surely find a few tales that tell stories of how much gold and wealth are plenty in these lands, with towers, palaces and tombs of the dead elven kings, great architects and heroes, all filled with ridiculous amounts of gold. Mostly lies and filled with bitterness and hate, than truth, which would lead you astray from the most precious Zerrikanian treasure. Which, is knowledge. The Elves have managed to collect through the centuries enough knowledge to make the greatest library one could ever imagine, filled with manuscripts dating a few millennia back. When, on the other side of the Blue Mountains the elves were dominant and mankind had no grasp upon any piece of territory. Monsters roamed the grasslands, forests and hills outside the mighty elven cities and the first set of witchers haven't been created yet.
An important hub of this vast land, is the ancient elven city of Yolwelkairr. As some tribes still consider it to be 'The cradle of the rest of the world'. For here, the legendary dragon Zerrikanterment created the rest of the known world. Known among the few scholars in Zerrikania, for the aforementioned library of Zyvra, named after an elven philosopher, architect, scholar and astronomer.
The other famous city was more of a political capital and as few of it's residents like to subtly point out as the 'true capital'. Situated up the north-western shore of the Naa'l, the vast river flowing through the elven city of Yolwelkairr and the city of Khu'Lu located many hundreds of miles north. A city that once belonged to the lands of Haakland a few centuries back. Conquered during the War for Glory between Haakland's Emperor Waas ov'Noul and Zerrikania's, elected leader of the united tribes and clans, Laleh of Thyr. The great city was taken as a spoil of war, after a siege that lasted two weeks. It's strong walls resisted more than a hundred strikes of the Zerrikanians. And when it's northern wall finally fell, it marked the ending of a blood soaked war, that lasted half a decade. The only war Zerrikania ever took part in. Reducing the armies of the Haaklanders from thousands to mere hundreds. The unity of the tribes and clans made during the war was dismantled once it was ended. And the tribes resumed the fight among themselves.
Therefore, the local remark, 'true capital', for it marks one of the most important achievements of Zerrikanian military superiority upon their northern neighbor, Haakland. Also because of fewer foreigners, such as dwarfs and other scholars from the lands on the other side of the Blue Mountains.
Walt von Svarnst's Journal - Times of Yore.
The Oasis of Gawa had been the most important camp site for Zerrikanian people since the first humans walked past the Blue Mountains and settled here.
Old stories tell of a large colony that came from the east, of men and women carrying on their backs, thick furs of white bears long before The Great Migration. Who traversed the frozen Eastern Sea, during The Long Lasting Winter.
And after a long time had been accepted by the Elves at their Palace of Ice, on the banks of the great frozen Naa'l.
The Palace of Ice, was protected by the cold and blizzards by a magical dome that surrounded the Palace and the city around it.
It is said that they offered knowledge as a fee to enter and live in and around the Palace of the Elves.
He heard a voice.
It came from a place that looked familiar.
Close to the market, near an inclined tower, circled by weeds, that gave birth to a beautiful blue flower. Near it, a tavern's lights illuminated the musky cubic stone paved street, near the southern bank of the Yaruga…
'Savages and blood thirsty monarchs rule your world, monster slayer...', whispered the mysterious voice. 'You, belong with them ! Soaked in blood and riddled with scars that won't heal...'. The voice became louder. 'You search for a home that has long been reduced to cinder. The people you knew, are no more. Death, took them a long time ago. You, Vatt'ghern, are alone. Your purpose, predestined-'.
'No !', a loud grunt echoed on the street the has now fallen into a dark abyss, leaving place to an endless darkness.
'...You cannot fight it. You cannot run from it...'.
He then fell too, into the darkness.
'No one, escapes their fate.'.
'Witcher ?', she asked with a gentle voice, then asked again with a more familiar tone. 'Gerd ?'.
He inhaled then exhaled and followed with an answer. 'What is it ?'.
'There's this woman that asked about you...', she replied then tried to remember her name. 'Hmm...Keira Metz !'.
'Where is she ?', he asked lifting himself up, on the edge of the rugged bed.
'On the hallway...', the girl responded.
'Let her in...', he said, grabbing his trousers from the nightstand next to the bed.
'Alright.', replied the girl.
'And Helena, tell the madam we need to talk.'.
'Sure.', she responded, walking out of the room to tell the mage she could enter.
'Morning...', said the mage with a slight tone of disgust. 'Tell me this. Why in the name of all things did you choose to spend the night here ? When, our 'common friend' offered you a room fit for kings and queens ?'. she continued with the same unchanged tone. While Gerd checked the bottles that were scattered on the floor near the bed, to see if one may yet still hold a drop of booze.
The room Gerd slept in was within a brothel, situated near the port. Offered as a reward by Zedt Verner himself, for the job the witcher had done for him.
'No particular reason at all. Shit...', he said, disappointed.
'Mhm. Changing subject. What happened ? Did you find your poison vendor ?'.
'I did.'.
'And ?',
'I found the buyer.', he said, then looked at Keira who was still unsatisfied with his answers so far. 'And...I'll make him a visit.'.
'Good enough.', she replied crossing her arms.
'That's why you came all the way here ? To learn of something this little.'.
'I firstly checked your room, then chose to come to this place.'.
'How did you knew I was here ?', he asked, grabbing his jacket.
'You have your secrets, I, have mine...', she said as Gerd picked up his swords and crossbow.
He showed a slight smile, as he sat at a table near the window, pouring himself in a goblet some water.
They didn't say much after that. Keira kept still, looking around, while Gerd grabbed a few bites from the food Helena brought to his room previously.
'Witcher...', she said, taken by a shiver at the end.
'Hmh ?', he said while chewing.
'What do you know about illusions ?'.
'What ?', he said swallowing, then he noticed the increased trembling of his medallion followed by the squeak of the floors near him.
He moved his left hand downward towards the floor in the blink of an eye.
'Get out !', he yelled, while casting a powerful version of the sign of Aard.
Keira escaped through a portal she casted beneath her, right before Gerd made the sign.
The sign blew out the door from it's hinges and shattered the windows in the room. But through all that, it revealed three men within the room, that had been pushed away, some stopped near the walls, others fell, by the magical sign of the witcher. Who after breathing in some air, unsheathed his steel sword and leapt towards one of the three men who managed to rise from the floor.
The intensity of the sign had been so great, that it damaged the man's ear drums, so much his ears bled. The witcher, cut him diagonally from his left leg towards his right shoulder then stabbed him in the chest, while the other two regained their composure. Both approached the witcher slowly, then the one standing to his left, a bit skinnier then the other, attacked first with a high blow, which Gerd avoided by making a step to the right, casting Aard in the direction of the first attacker, pushing him behind a few good steps. While from the right, he deflected a similar attack, and slashed the man above the right hip, turning the momentum given by the swing to a pirouette and slashed the carotid artery of the other, then turned and made the hand sign for the Aard spell once again, pushing the more corpulent one against the wall and with a lunge he stabbed him in the heart.
Keira's portal took her back to her temporary residence, in the western side of Novigrad. With her traveled west the chopped left leg of a man, that when she opened the portal he didn't manage to react and had his leg severed when it closed.
While the rest of the body was in the hallway now. His neck broken, standing up right against the wooden wall. He wasn't able to regain his balance with only one foot and had been surprised by the witcher's defensive measure, being thrown away like a ragdoll by the wind spell.
'Have you heard of the old elven tale about The Long Lasting Winter ?', he asked his apprentices. Few nodded their heads others looked at the ones next to them, while others casted their attention towards the old man, sitting near the fire. 'Well, it is said that it took place long before the age of humans...'.