"Are you ready kid? Baby's first step into the real world." Radkin's arm snaked around my shoulder. He smelled of spice and wine. His white teeth glimmered just millimeters from my face. He viewed personal space as a loose suggestion.
I could smell the potions hanging at his waist as well. The small glass vials were worth their weight in gold. It was unfortunate that the products of witcher alchemy were only suitable for those who had undergone our drastic mutations. The formularies for our elixirs had been devised by mages centuries ago.
All medicine was in part poison. The dose determined whether a treatment would cure or kill. The mages who formulated our potions had done so carelessly. Since our bodies were highly resistant to poisoning, they simply determined that there was insufficient rationale to remove the toxins from our elixirs.
"You reek of booze. Not quite selling the responsible older mentor image." I replied. With my palm I pushed his arm off from around my shoulder.
Radkin laughed and swaggered to his horse. From a hidden pocket he pulled out a silver flask. He uncorked it and drank greedily. The alcohol would be metabolised in a few minutes, there wasn't nearly enough to get him drunk. Wine was a faithful companion to many witchers.
With practised ease Radkin swung a leg over his horse's body and seated himself comfortably. The continent was vast. It was far faster to travel on four legs than two. A good horse was essential to our profession. Their coats had to be glossy and their eyes bright. Firm charecter was necessary also. The horse had to be able to overcome its instinct to bolt when faced with danger.
Radkin grinned and scratched his horse's ears. The creature whinnied happily in response. The bond between the two was evident, "You'll be singing my praises soon little bird, just you wait!"
His style was rougueish as ever. I approached my horse. Anna was her name. She looked at me with big curious brown eyes and scratched her hooves on the earth. She was young. She longed to be galloping across the plains instead of cooped up in a stable at Kaer Morhen. It was finally time for her wish to be fullfilled.
Her coat was smooth and meticulously groomed. I knew so, I had brushed her myself. We had been taught to ride years ago. I stepped into a stirrup and swung myself into the saddle. The excitement of riding on horseback was considerable. We had never ridden beyond the boundaries of Kaer Morhen.
"You've said your goodbyes?" Radkin asked. His usually lively tone was subdued.
The faces of Bevald, Linon and Vivald appeared in my mind. They were recovering well from the infection of madman's breath. In a week or two they would leave for journies of their own. I found my fingers drawn to the medallion at my chest. The edges of the wolf's snarl were sharp. The craftsman had captured well the fierceness and violence of the creature.
My fingers didn't leave the medallion. The magic within responded to my touch. A soft hum could be heard beneath the wind, "I have. I'll see them again in a few winters."
Radkin looked at me for a long moment. Then he seemed to settle on an answer in his heart, "Yes. I think you will."
He drew up the horse's reins. A gentle squeeze of his legs urged his horse to trot. I mirrored the action. The saddle rose and fell steadily beneath me as Anna trotted. Our pace was gentle. The coming of spring had melted the thick snowfall from the mountain peaks high above. The trails around Kaer Morhen were subject to frequent mudslides as a result. It was wise to travel with caution until we reached kinder terrain.
The journey proceeded. As the ground began to level out, the pace picked up. Anna expressed her delight with loud whinnies. Radkin's horse, a chestnut brown stallion, was exuberant at the prescence of another of his kind. He responded to Anna's whinnies with a happy call.
The stallion was clearly eager to impress his companion. He swung his tail about proudly and thundered forwards with powerful strides. Sweat was beginning to gather by Anna's neck, but he displayed no sign of fatigue. The stallion had accompanied Radkin for thousands of miles, its fitness was at the pinnacle amongst its kind.
Radkin quickly noticed the shift in his horse's demeanour. His tone was teasing, "Your little Anna is making Lingon a happy stallion!"
He was clearly hoping for a reaction. I could see his eyes lighting up as he thought of further ways to poke fun. The scenery was breathtaking, but it lacked excitement. Companionable silence was enjoyable. Exchanging quips was enjoyable too. Some friendly banter would liven up the mood.
"Keep him away from my Anna, I fear he might've caught something from you. I pray for Lingon's sake that horses can't get gonorrhea."
Radkin snorted and his lips quivered. He was trying hard not to laugh. He managed to gather himself enough to retaliate, "I've seen you with a a goat stew! The stars know what you'd do if you saw a live one, probably hump the fur right off of it."
The hours passed by in a comfortable mix of heated exchanges and restful silence. The contrast between the two states intensified my appreciation of each one. The sun gradually began to fall. In its place a bright full moon was rising.
"Let's make camp." Radkin declared. He pulled on the reins of his horse and the stallion began to slow.
We made camp some distance from the trail. The region was remote. It would take a day's ride at a good pace to reach the nearest village. Nonetheless, we ensured that our camp could not be seen from the trail.
Radkin dismounted and rubbed Login's back. The horse inspected the area with an intelligent almost human-like judgement. After a few moments it snorted with satisfaction and lowered its head to munch on the grass. The creature then seemed to suddenly remember than it had more company than usual. It immediately trotted over to Anna's side. The two of them got on well.
Unfortunately for Lingon, neither Radkin nor myself wanted to watch our steeds mate, so his attempts to take things further were swiftly foiled. After several failed attempts he understood that his dream was destined to be a dissapointment, at least while Radkin or I remained close by. With a despondent cry he bent his knees and lay down on the grass. Perhaps Anna took pity on the sad horse. She lay down next to him and nudged him playfully with her head. The stallion's spirits soared instantly.
"We'll reach Troben by evening tomorrow. I've known their elder for a few decades. If there's any work to be done he'll offer it to us without trouble." Radkin remarked. With a dagger he cut slivers off a piece of dried beef and threw them into the air. The pieces fell gracefully into his mouth.
"You're not fooling me are you, some kind of trick to give me faith in humanity?" I replied sceptically.
Radkin's white teeth snapped shut. A piece of meat was caught between them. He swallowed it and smiled, "You know little bird, a dog doesn't bite the hand that feeds it. Places like this, on the fringes of their kingdom. They get little love from their mighty kings and queens, timber ain't worth the same as gold and emeralds."
His grin widened, "You see those pig-eared rulers don't care. They build palaces and walls so they don't have to step out and see the filth their subjects live in. No one gives a crap about a place like Trebon. You know their masters' on high ain't kind. Not kind at all. But there's beasties in the mountains that'll give em' all the attention they want."
The reality dawned. I had been conditioned to expect malevolence from the common people. Their courts fed them lies. They preached that we were devils sent to snatch their children. That we had presented our souls to hell in exchange for a serpent's eyes.
In a backwater village like Troben, the voices of kings and queens were pathetically weak. Dynasties could be overturned and their lives would remain the same as they had always been. Taxes might rise by a couple coin and nothing more.
"They need us." The words left my lips without conscious thought.
"Aye. They do. There's work to be had in places like this. Plenty. Soon as the beasties in those mountains taste human flesh they'll be craving for more.
The only gripe is that the pay is shite, some of them will spit on you it when you mention payment. As if our services ought to be free.
I've never taken a child nor harmed a woman. The people here know that I'm different to what their king would have them believe. " Radkin said. His voice carried considerable warmth for the people of Troben. His whole life had been spent immersed in hatred and contempt. The village of Troben offered a brief relief from his suffering.
After he finished speaking Radkin shut his eyes. Solemnity was rare for him, "Good night."
"Good night." I offered him the same courtesy.
The sounds of the forest were oddly comforting. I didn't feel like sleeping. Or at least my imitation of sleep. I listened to Radkin's breathing gradually slow. His brows let go of the tension they had been holding. He was in a state of light sleep. I knew he would wake in an instant if something approached.
I remembered the relief of sinking into bed in my past life. Without tiredness as a biological imperative, such a thing held greatly reduced appeal to me now. Comtemplation was enjoyable. To sit and be still. It was extraordinarily peaceful. Everything superflous faded away. All that remained was a wordless awareness.
With my eyes shut I sat listening to the wind and the birds. Something struck me. In this moment I felt freer than I ever had. There was a life layed out before me. One of solace and battle. The prospect excited me. I wondered how many years I would spend journeying the continent and slaying monsters. Biological immortality had been granted to me since deadpool's powers awakened. Once my body developed to adulthood, I would cease to age.
Perhaps I could be killed. Intuition told me that such a thing would be extremely challenging. But not necessarily impossible. Imprisonment was a far more real concern. An eternity spent locked away. I dreaded the thought.
I closed my eyes. There, in the darkness, was a familiar silhouette. I had come to appreciate the practicality of his costume in new light. Blood would barely show up against the red fabric. The clothes I wore were black or brown, all of them designed for ease of movement in combat.
Beside deadpool stood another figure. A silhouette. A haze shrouded any features that might've been discernible. For now it lacked any identity. In two, maybe three years, the fog would be lifted. I was eager for the changes it could bring. Greed existed in all hearts. I did not allow mine to command me. Nonetheless. The sillouhette promised power. And I was keen to grow stronger.
For a time I could be content with my current abilities. That time was finite. If the second figure could not improve my strength, I would seek out alternative measures. Geralt had undergone secondary mutations, enhancing his strength and elevating him above regular witchers. There was no reason why I could not obtain similar benefits. The process would no doubt be arduous and complex. But it was feasible.
Tomorrow I would see a new side to the world. From a perspective that only those with amber eyes could see. I had spent countless hours training. I was competent in all areas. Excelling in swordsmanship and archery. For those subjects that I performed poorly in, I devised additional training. It was necessary that I be proficient in all areas.
My mind was always in a state of optimal concentration, I learned quickly and rarely forgot. Qualities of an excellent student. I appreciated the necessity of study. Knowledge could be just as sharp as any blade. But I found little pleasure in the process of rote memorization and prolonged reading. There were books and tomes that interested me of course, but I was unsuited to be a scholar. I preferred the delight of swinging a blade or notching an arrow. Once I had raised my studies to an appropriate level I resumed my nights of pseudo-sleep rather than reading by candlelight.
The sword and bow interested me. I could practice for hours without getting bored. Without fatigue there was no limit for how long I could go on for.
I did not think myself a son of fortune. My will was strong, but far from unbreakable. There were those who would spend every waking moment pursuing their goals. Rest would be an insult to them.
I was not like that. I followed my heart and pursued the things that brought me joy. I held no guilt for the potential that might've been wasted.
Every individual had the opportunity to elevate themselves. Perhaps in some reality every individual spent their entire lives constantly striving for better. But I would not follow that path.
Perfection was a trap. If every moment was spent striving for more, then no time was left to appreciate what was in front of you.
I did not seek perfection. I sought contenment and nothing more. Oddly, the surest way of achieving contenment, was to do nothing at all.
The sounds of the forest were good company. There was a whole ocean of information constantly being deciphered by my senses. I immersed myself in the smells and tastes. I looked forwards to the sun rising.