Disclaimer: The Witcher and every character aswell as location, that is not created by myself belongs to CD Projekt Red aswell as Andrzej Sapkowski, the original author of the books.
Reviews and ConCrits are always welcome!
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Chapter 1: Lectures
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"A Witcher can forget to eat, he can forget to drink, to sleep even, but never forget to care for you blades, for it can save your life... And I lost it. I can already hear Vesemir's voice lecturing me..."
It was a dark and rainy night and the atmosphere within the small inn resembled it. It was silent, here and there a few laughters, by the few people inside, but everything turned entirely pin-drop silent as another visitor would enter. On his back were too scabbards, yet only one sword, under his arms he had clutched some bags and in his left hand he held a small bag, which was dripping, while the other hand was pressed against his sides. Everyone seemed to freeze at their spot as they stared at the stranger, he wore an unusual armor, but that wasn't the main focus, no, this one lay on the silver medallion around his neck and his cat-like eyes – this man was a Witcher.
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The innkeeper, a middle aged man with a big, red nose and a red mustache, approached him, blocking his path,
"So, I see you've returned," he said, his loud voice drawing the attention of even the last guest to them, "Have you been successful?"
The raven haired witcher set himself upright, though obviously in pain as he did so, "The job is done," he grunted with a deep and gritty voice as he threw the bag in his left hand before the feet of the innkeeper. The bag slightly opened, as it hasn't been properly tied, a dark red, almost black liquid drooled out of it.
"How dare you stain the floor of my inn with the remains of this creature?!" the innkeeper shouted furiously, "Begone!"
"Not before I've been payed," the Witcher grated.
For a short moment the fat innkeeper hesitated, before disobediently taking out a small pouch with coins. The Witcher counted it, "This is not what we agreed."
"It is more than enough for you! I've kept a fee for the mess you've made here."
With his dark yellow eyes, the Witcher stared him down, his look expressing pure anger, "Listen, you fat fuck," he grunted, "I may be hurt, but I'm still a better fighter than anyone inside this inn and you'd make a great mistake in angering a Witcher."
Though frightened, the innkeeper stood tall, as a few men rushed to his aid, standing in front of the mutant, "You should be grateful that he gave you anything!" One man said, "If it were me, I'd 'ave already thrown you out of 'ere, mutant scum!"
As the rambling went on, one member of the crowd stepped out to stand on the Witcher's sight, "Stop it, everyone!" By the looks of it, of his attire he was nothing but a mere farmer, maybe traveler. Strapped to his waist was an old steel sword, "He saved you from a monster, didn't he? He resolved your problem, didn't he? I think it's only fair that you pay the agreed price, messy floor or not."
The Witcher, as much as anyone else, found himself suprised by the courage of the young man, though it didn't seem to be for long. Yet it seemed enough to awake that last bit of decency within the innkeeper and his guests and he was persuaded to hand over the rest of the payment to the wounded Witcher.
"Where is your horse?" the innkeeper asked as he gave him the payment, "You did have one when you arrived, didn't you?"
"Didn't make it." The raven haired Witcher grated as he turned around to leave. As he did so, the young man was stood before him, "Wait, you don't look like you should be wandering about," he said, "I want to invite you to share my room, you should rest after such a fight."
"Thanks, but I'll be fine."
"No, I insist."
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It was rather obvious that the Witcher didn't feel all too comfortable having been invited to share the room with this traveler, he had a feeling that there was more than good will behind this. It wasn't before he had placed his belongings in the room, that the Witcher learned, that the traveler had a habit of talking, "So, I see you're wearing the armour of the Ursine school of Witchers," the young man said, pointing out the mostly black gambeson with the dark brown leather pads and chainmail, which was traditional for the 'Bear School', though it had different colours. Also noticably was, that his coat covered only one sleeve, leaving the other exposing the white shirt which he wore underneath, of which he had rolled up the sleeve. A second look went towards the silver medallion, which was shaped like a wolf, "And accordingly to your medallion, you must be a member of the Wolf School." he went on, "Then why aren't you wearing your school's traditional attire? And why are you missing one of your swords?"
"I'd ask why you know all this about Witchers, but I don't want to hear you talk anymore, so do me a favour and shut up."
"Oh, alright, I get it! I won't ask anymore questions for now." he then looked at his wounds, "But don't you want to take care of this wound?"
"Yes," the Witcher replied while searching through one of his pouches, eventually taking out a small bottle, containing a green liquid. As soon as he swallowed it, green veins appeared all over his body as he grunted painfully. Noticably was also that his eyes briefly glowed. It was a quick process, taking maybe half a minute.
"So that is how it looks when a Witcher drinks a potion." the traveler mumbled, going through his strawy, brown hair. He studied his roommate, from his shoulder long black hair, of which some was tied to a ponytail behind his head, to his scruffy beard and his scars. There was one going right through his left eye, though it was left unharmed. It started just above his eyebrow and ended at his cheek. Another one met his lower lip, it was still visible through the beard. He was wondering how many scars his entire body beared. His skin was pale, of course that was to be expected by someone who came out of a storm like this and was also bleeding, yet it would still stand out, even if only slightly. According to his wrinkles he looked like he was in his mid thirties, though, knowing that a Witcher's aging is slowed down due to their mutation, he could be much older.
Though curious, the young man would keep his questions to himself and rather ask another time. Given, that he'll ever have this opportunity. It is true, that the Witchers have caught his interest since he was smaller and since he's heard those tales of Geralt of Rivia and his adventures, his wish was to meet one. To be fair, he imanigened it a bit differently.
"Why did you do it?" the Witcher asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Standing up for me. It's not everyday that someone defends a Witcher."
"I guess you could call it 'good will'? I like to help where help is due, Witcher."
Just guessing by the yellow eyed look, the Witcher didn't believe him, "I'm honest, I saw how they were treating you, a wounded man, no less, and, well, I could never watch something like that and not interfere."
The raven haired mutant remained silent for a brief moment, before speaking up as he sat up from his bed, "So you want me to believe that you acted without any second thought, just because you wanted to help?"
The traveler hesitated for moment to think about this statement, "um... yes, that's about right."
The Witcher narrowed his eyes, looking at him with a look of confusion as he raised an eyebrow in disbelief. It was obvious, that he still had a hard time believing, "What's your name, kid?" he finally asked.
"Elron. Elron Farroe," he held out his hand, only for it to be met with another suspicious looked, as the the Witcher crossed his arms, causing an akward silence, "And what about you?" Elron finally asked.
For another moment he remained silent, presumably to think wether he should answer or not. Finally he gave in, "Kaleb of Rivia. And to answer your questions, yes I am a member of the Wolf School of Witchers and I prefer this set of armour, just because."
Was he finally warming up, then? Elron wanted to try it out, "Nice to make your acquaintance, then. But one question remains: What of your second sword?"
Kaleb walked towards the window, looking out of it, into the distance, "That's the problem. On this last job, the reason why I am here, I was ambushed, while I fought this Leshen. I don't know how they did it, but I'll make sure to get it back as soon as possible."
The brown haired man nodded briefly, "I understand. That is indeed bad, though, wouldn't it be easier to get a new one?"
This seemed to aggravate him as Kaleb quickly turned towards his roommate, "I can't just do that! You don't understand what this is about!" he barked, startling the young man.
"I-I'm sorry, I didn't know..." Elron mumbled, "But, what if I help you find it?"
"No thanks, I'll do it myself. Last thing I need is you slowing me down on my travels."
"Don't worry, I promise not to be a burden! I know my ways around a forest and how to be silent, also I've been told to be a good tracker!"
His look told Elron, that the Witcher was considering it, "Where are you from?"
"Oxenfurt, and given your title, you're from Rivia?"
"Actually I'm from Toussaint, but being raised by the White Wolf, I've adapted his ways, the rivian accent, you get it." Kaleb explained. Elron couldn't help but notice the slightly cynical tone of the Witcher as he said 'White Wolf'.
"You were raised by the Geralt of Rivia? The White Wolf?"
"Well, more like a younger brother being raised by his big brother, while the father was out, dealing with his own problems. He's not that much older than me."
"But final question," Elron said finally, "Can I come with you, or not?"
The raven haired man lay down on his bed, "Sunrise. If you're not up at sunrise, ready to go, I'll leave you back, do you understand?"
"Understood!" Elron lit up, this was the opportunity of a lifetime! He'd experience lots of adventures and meet lots of different people, save damsels in distress! He couldn't wait for it!
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