Plumes of smoke drifted upwards. Evening had arrived. In an era without electricity, the loss of light signalled the end of the working day. Though faint, I could hear the voices of several farmers discussing the earth and her whims. The smell of fire and cooking was unmistakable.
Tall and thick wooden walls shielded Troben from our sight. Deep gouges and scratches decorated the defence. A testament to the oak's capacity to endure. It was clear that the walls had repelled several assaults.
The light was fading. The amber of my eyes pierced through the darkness with ease. A farmer would struggle to see beyond a few meters. With the night's arrival, vigilance inevitably arose. It was an ill-advisablle time to announce our prescence. But Radkin's confidence was unwavering. He had said with complete confidence that the villagers would permit us a room for the night.
Radkin rapped his knuckle against the wall. The voices I could faintly hear fell away in an instant. For a moment there was complete silence as the villagers shifted between fear and curiosity.
Direct as always, Radkin knocked again. This time with greater force. He shouted, "Old man, let me in!"
I heard something clatter to the ground. Then voices. An old, slightly hoarse and markedly angry voice rose above the rest, "Radkin you bastard! You scared the shits out of us! I dropped my bleedin' soup, you're paying for it you know!"
The earth thrummed with footsteps. I estimated a dozen people approaching the gate. After a few moments a head peeked over the wall. Drooping wrinkles made it difficult to see the individual's eyes. His bushy eyebrows raised upon seeing that Radkin was not alone.
"Brought a friend have ya?" The old man asked. The underlying meaning was clear. I was an unknown. No sensible person would allow a stranger into their home at night. Fortunately Radkin was present to explain.
"One of mine Cherop, a witcher! Aye his feathers are still growing but he's a fierce one! All day I've been telling the boy how kind and generous the wise elder of Troben is! Told him without question you would offer us a bed for the night!" Radkin answered. A sly smile tugged at his lips.
The wrinkles around the elder's eyes quivered as he blinked repeatedly. He muttered something too quietly to be heard, but the bitterness in his tone was easily distuinguished. I listened closer, vaguely picking out Radkin's name accompanied by a few rarely used curses.
After a few moments of deliberation, the elder threw his hands into the air, "Fine, fine, fine! Come in! Come in! You witchers have sharp claws from the moment you're born, you will keep an eye on your little one! A close eye, if he-"
"He won't." Radkin cut him off. He held the elder's gaze with firm conviction.
The elder paused for a while. Seemingly searching for truth in Radkin's eyes. He found only self-assuredness. Though he was often unserious and needlessly dramatic, Radkin didn't joke about matters of importance.
The elder stared at Radkin for a while longer. Then his eyes flicked towards me. He looked me up and down without reservation. His gaze lingered on my swords, "Open the gate for our guests!"
Several people behind the walls seemed to have been waiting for the instruction. The gate creaked shrilly and began to open. Grunts of exertion suggested that this was the product of considerable effort.
The elder was the first person we saw as the gate opened. He was short in stature and rested heavily on a cane. A dozen strong tanned men stood behind him with wary expressions. All of them were armed. I did not find their battle-readiness rude. They were all ready to defend their homes at a moment's notice. Such conviction was deserving of respect.
The elder lifted his cane and took a step forwards. He moved unhurriedly. There was a few feet of disparity between our heights. I was stout but not tall. He craned his head to look up to me. Up close I could see the brightness of cultivated intellect in his eyes, "I apologise young witcher. You did not deserve such a harsh welcome. The world is cruel enough to your kind already. For a moment I forgot how Radkin has helped us, I did his name a disservice."
I took down my hood. Respect flowed naturally in my tone, "You need not apologise. My presence brings uncertainity, you were right to take the stance you did. Your care for your people is plain to see."
The elder smiled. A handful of yellow teeth were briefly exposed to the air. He turned to Radkin, "You've got a clever one here."
Radkin offered back a wide grin, "Aye, that I do."
The elder lead us to his home. It was simply made with timber, stone and mud. It stood out as one of the largest in the village. The house had space for a dozen. Radkin and I were given individual rooms. I enjoyed resting outdoors, but the comfort of four walls was undeniably pleasant.
"You have work for us? The boy will accompany me." Radkin asked, bringing a spoonful of stew to his mouth. Stew and bread had been given to us without requiring instruction by the elder. It was clear that there were individuals in the village who viewed our arrival with goodwill.
Cherop sighed and looked to the ceiling. Absent-mindely he tapped his cane against the floor, "Yes. There's work. The more the merrier for your hunting, but the price doesn't change."
The responsibility for the village's safety and prosperity rested on the elder's shoulders. The burden was a heavy one to bear. A steely determination supported his ageing body. There was a steadiness behind his eyes. I wondered about the things he might've seen. When he, and even his grandchildren died, I would still be wandering the continent. He had seen a lifetime. I would see a millenia.
"What's the contract?" Radkin asked, his attention sharpening.
The elder's knuckles tightened around the cane. Though he appeared frail, his grip was fierce.
"There's something hungry out there. It's killed a dozen sheep. A week ago it tore the heads off a few cattle. If it takes many more we'll barely make it through the winter."
His strength suddenly seemed to fade. The hand that had held the cane in a vice like grip slackened.
He continued to speak, but his tone had changed. Anger had given way to sorrow and helplessness, "Two hunters went to the mountains."
Radkin's spoon froze. His eyes glinted dangerously. His tone held a sharp edge, "We talked about this. There's things in those mountains a man cannot fade. They'll shred their heart before they can draw their bow.
Your hunters kill deer and rabbits! They can't-"
The elder raised his hand. A vein in Radkin's temple bulged. His teeth gnashed together. After a tense moment he relented and allowed his sentence to end unfinished.
The elder hung his head low. His eyes brimmed with regret and guilt, "I know. It's been days. They haven't returned. They have families, soon their wives will be widows."
His neck jerked upwards. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. His voice was low and baleful, "Don't take me for a fool Witcher. Those things, those beasts, they took my wife! Trust that I know their are devils that a man alone cannot kill.
But there are no laws to uphold my word. My advice is worth less than pig shit some. Those hunters left at dawn without a word to their families. What kind of good man can sit idly by and watches his children starve!
They didn't see it as a choice. You witchers appear at random, the beast could not be allowed to prey freely any longer. The bastard lord won't dispatch a single soldier unless there's a sighting with a witness willing to stand for it."
The old man was breathing fast. His cheeks were flushed a bright red. His voice wavered and cracked, "They didn't even want to kill it witcher. They just wanted to take a look. To have a glimmer of hope to invite the lord's soldiers."
Radkin's teeth were gritted tightly together. He rose suddenly and left the room. A moment later he returned with his satchel. Liquids of bright and vibrant colours were poured from bottles into vials.
Radkin spoke without looking up from his work, "How many days?"
The elder blinked. For a moment he seemed confused. Then an answer arose in his heart.
"Two." He answered. He didn't question Radkin's behaviour.
Radkin shoved several vials into his pockets. He moved with predatory efficiency. Without a word he strode out the door. Silver blurred and an in instant his sword was in his hand.
I followed after him. We scaled the gate with ease, there was no time to gather men to open it. The temperature dropped several degrees. The wind was chilling.
Radkin dove into the forests. His speed immediately picked up several times. Though my experience was vastly inferior, my physical strength was equal to his. I kept up with him easily.
For a while we dashed through the trees without a word. We were like ghosts moving through the night. Finally, Radkin offered an explanation, "There's a chance those hunters still live. You must remember little bird, a Witcher must always try to save a life.
No matter how slim the chance. So long as they might draw breath, we must try."
The situation did not allow for jokes or humour. I gave a simple response, "I swear to."
Radkin nodded in affirmation. Then without warning he stopped. I hastily did the same, halting a few feet ahead of him.
His eyes were closed. He sniffed the deeply. The question that had been forming on my lips was immediately answered.
I copied Radkin's behaviour, taking long sniffs of the air and combing through the smells. Taste was another sense at my disposal. The air was earthy and damp in my mouth. Beneath the soil and rain there was something else. Faint. Far away. But present.
Radkin's eyes opened. He drew a crimson vial from his pocket. The elixir did not go to his stomach. Instead it was spread across his blade.
Rakin's eyes were focused on his blade. He examined it from every angle, searching for any small spots not coated in the viscous oil. He was meticulous in his work, "Tell me, what do you smell?"
His preparation demonstrated that he knew what creature we would face. I inhaled the scent of the oil. It bore significant resemblance to the spiced liquor he liked to drink. It was an accelerant. It would allow igni's flames to burn for hours unless quenched. The oil gave little away. Fire was an effective weapon against the majority of foes.
The elder's words provided valuable information. The beast was large. Large enough to slaughter cattle and drag their bodies into the forest. Its appetite was immense. A dozen sheep and two cattle would be enough to feed even a dragon for a couple weeks.
I realised something suddenly. I had assumed that the beast was eating its prey immediately. Then, when it had digested its meal, hunger would spur it to hunt once more. But such an appetite was rare, even amongst larger monsters. Perhaps I had underestimated the creature's greed and cunning, perhaps it was unsatisfied to venture out of its nest every time it wanted to eat. After all, there was a simple solution to this problem.
"It's a spider." I gave my answer.
Radkin smiled grimly, "Not just one little bird, never just one when it comes to insects. How kind of fate to deliver such a foe as your first kill. Oil your sword."
I gripped my sword tighter. Death was barred to me, but suffering was not. I would fight not for my life, but for my happiness instead. I did not wish to be ensnared in a spider's web and forced to regenerate again and again as they tore off chunks of my flesh.
I was not as calm as Radkin. His composure was cultivated through a century of experience. He had likely killed more monsters than I could name. I was a fledgeling. I knew well that knowledge meant nothing without experience.
I was nervous for the battle ahead. Emotions were not wounds that could be healed. My powers stopped my hands from shaking, but they did nothing to calm the restlessness in my mind.
I took a deep breath. The cold air brought clarity. Pain and discipline had forged my will. I had known my duty since my training began. I would not shirk it. Fear was instinctual. It was natural. Fear gave the strength to run.
I was no longer in Kaer Morhen. There was no one to rescue me if I dropped my sword or stumbled. I could only rely on myself and my blade. Something dawned on me. The restlessness in my mind. It wasn't just nerves.
I was excited. To wield my blade against the darkness. To fight without someone watching over my shoulder. To fulfill the role I played in this world. Perhaps one day that role would change. But for now I was certain in my part.
"Stay close." Radkin instructed. Then we set off, delving deeper into the forest. The bright moon above guided our path.