Published at 11th of November 2023 3:30 am

Chapter 570: Maribor

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Roy the witcher stood before the trinity of Melitele statues. The statues glowed with sacred light, and a majestic voice boomed in his head.

“I am pleased, child of the Elder Blood. As promised, you have brought a group of lively guardians to the temple. Your trip to Maribor will be filled with dangers. In order to prevent you from dying before this world’s crisis is averted, Freya and I have decided to bend the rules and lend you as much assistance as we can.”

An aqua blue crystal cut in the shape of a rose shot out of the statue of Melitele. It was the size of a fist and shone as brightly as the summer sky. Roy held it in his hand and tightened his grip.

‘Blessed Brisingamen

Components: Zircon, divine energy

Affixes:

Second Wind: This gemstone, blessed by Freya and Melitele, can block a fatal attack once. You may also activate it and cast Divine Healing, returning your body and soul to their best state.’

“We shall lend this to you. Pray that you do not have to use it ever.”

***

“So, how did it go? Fine?” Letho was leaning on a pavilion’s pillar in the garden’s corner, looking at Roy.

“Yes. Grimm went to Vizima, and the goddess gave her blessing. And the children?” Roy looked at his comrades. Four Wolves, Four Vipers, and three Cats. Kiyan came all the way from Novigrad to stand with his comrades. Coen, the sole member of the Griffin School, then the sorcerers, Kalkstein and Coral. Fourteen of them in total.

“They wouldn’t let up. I almost used Axii on them.” Felix shook his head, then he clenched his fists in resignation and approval. “But we calmed them down and convinced them to stay.”

“With Nenneke keeping an eye on them, there’s nothing to worry,” said Letho, rubbing his head.

“Time to set off, people.”

Coral went up and held Roy’s arm lovingly. “Don’t let Triss wait for too long.”

A square portal cracked open the garden’s space, and the group of fourteen went into it.

***

A sorcerer’s tower stood beside the palace of Maribor’s prince. Its walls were white, and its roof was red. In the topmost chamber of the tower stood a desk and a row of bookshelves, and a gale howled across the room, flipping the pages of the tomes open.

Triss’ hair brushed against her cheeks.

“Hello, my lovely lady.” Lambert was the first to come through. He approached Triss with a smile and went down on one knee, requesting for a hand-kiss.

Triss smiled and lifted her dress a little, then she curtsied at everyone.

Aiden smacked the back of Lambert’s head. “Stop flirting with every woman you meet. If you’re in heat, find a mate in the pigsty.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Triss.” Coral stepped ahead and put an arm around Triss’ waist, then she held Triss’ chin with her left hand as she stared into her face. “You got thinner. How I envy your body.”

“I haven’t gotten thinner, but you’ve gotten prettier.” Triss shook her head, her hair swaying. She then looked at the witchers and glanced furtively at the one with greyish-silver eyes. There was delight in her eyes. “You came just in time. I have a new discovery regarding the grandmasters.”

“Tell us more.”

“Come here.” She approached the desk and curled her finger. The steaming teapot, teacups, and bottled tea leaves danced and swirled around in the air, but they moved with precision. Moments later, everyone in the room had themselves a cup of fresh, steaming jasmine tea. Triss gave them a smile and motioned at them to drink. At the same time, a map of Maribor unfurled itself on the table.

The city had hybrid buildings, clear, spacious thoroughfares, a hundred narrow alleyways, city gates in the south and north, and many more. All of them were shrunk to a miniature scale and presented on the map, including the gigantic crack caused by that monster. The crack was in the abandoned old city wing.

Triss twirled her finger around the outer rims of the map. “For the past year, I’ve been checking all spell vibrations across the city.”

Roy was touched and a little guilty. All he did was ask for her favor during the Trial, and Triss set all her work aside. She came to the old sorcerer’s tower in Maribor and risked her life finding the grandmasters’ trail.

Coral frowned. She admonished, “You’re risking yourself.”

“Don’t worry. Everything I’m doing, I do it through this tower. Its special structure and the invisibility spell Tissaia taught me made sure I never reveal too much magic power. No one could’ve noticed me.”

Triss had a wary look on her face. Hatefully, she said, “And I’ve never left this tower for the whole year. Never showed up on the city’s surface. The bastards brainwashed me once. They would’ve recognized me.” She was still bothered by the fact she lost some of her memories.

The witchers gave her a look of gratitude. Triss stayed in this boring tower for a year just for one promise.

“Don’t give me that sentimental look. I was just repaying a favor.” Triss took a deep breath and nodded. “Yep. I was just repaying Roy for saving me.”

“Are you sure we can count on this scouting method of yours?” asked Vesemir.

“Give or take one percent margin of error.” Triss twirled her fingers, and a lake as smooth as a mirror jumped into the air. “The whole city’s chaos energy was like this lake, calm and undisturbed. Regular people are like weeds in the depths of this lake, unable to stir any trouble. But if any sorcerer, magical apprentice, or witcher who has mastered Signs come into this space, the balance will be broken. All they have to do is cast one magical action. Any weak spell or simple Sign.” Triss added nervously, “I do not mean to disparage you, witchers. Your Signs have room for innovation as well, and they’re on par with spells.”

“We’re not that sensitive. Continue.” Roy smiled at her warmly.

“Once the chaos energy in our bodies touches the energy in our surroundings, it will create a ripple, and my tower can capture that ripple. She twirled her middle finger, and a gale galloped by. The lake rippled like a frilly silk dress dancing about.

“For about a year, the whole of Maribor has stayed calm. Calmer than anything. This is a city ruled by regular people, the monarchy, the church, and commerce. I thought I was the only spellcaster. Everyone else must’ve been scared off by the taxes the prince announced. Until a month ago, that was. Powerful magical ripples appeared in these places.”

She pointed twice on the map.

“Blue Whale, and the crack in the old city wing?” The witchers held their breaths.

“For safety’s sake, I didn’t leave the tower.” Triss made a beckoning gesture with her left hand, and a swarm of pitch-black magical light flew in through the window, then it fell onto the back of Triss’ hand. That light was a magical crow. It tilted its head and cleaned the grime on its feathers with its beak, then it cawed, staring at everyone in the room like it understood them.

“But my familiar has heard everything.” A pause later, Triss’ eyes flared brightly. “Four individuals suspected to be witchers appeared in broad daylight. One was tall, burly, looked icy, and had a bear head medallion around his neck.”

The witchers were losing a bit of calm every time Triss spoke.

“One was gaunt, had a long face, and his eyes were like a viper’s. He had a viper medallion around his neck. One had black hair, brown eyes, and looked and was built like a regular man. He had the medallion of a wolf’s head. The last was the most conspicuous of them all. He had the tattoo of an eagle on the side of his face, and the medallion of a griffin hung around his neck. The four of them drank the whole day away in Blue Whale. Their conspicuous appearances and forward attitude garnered a lot of attention. The bartenders, regulars, waitresses, and even the people who passed by the tavern could attest to that.”

“That’s impossible!” Coen shrieked, his pupils contracting.

Everyone nodded. This was different from what they knew.

“That’s odd.” Roy took a sip of his tea. “Arnaghad, Erlands, and Elgar have been in hiding for a hundred years. They wouldn’t break their longstanding rule after that stretch of disappearance just to show up and have fun without a care in the world.”

The witchers exchanged looks.

Kalkstein, who’d been listening quietly, said, “Put yourselves in their shoes. According to Roy, they abandoned their brethren and joined Alzur’s organization, staying in hiding for a hundred years, cooped up in the underground like rats. They risked their lives interfering with multiple wars. Their goal must be monumental. If you were in their shoes, would you let yourself go right when success is in your grasp? What if you ruin everything?”

Auckes touched his hair band. “You’re saying that they’re getting really close to their goal. They know they’ll succeed so…”

“So they went for some drinks to celebrate?” Serrit guessed.

“Then we have trouble.” Roy frowned. He was reminded of that red light that could purge sins back in Mayena. Did the grandmasters and Alzur find a stable way to shape this world to their liking? That thought sent chills down his spine.

***

“The second ripple happened near the crack in the old city wind,” Triss said. “There’s a sewer underneath that crack. It was made in the elven era and had dozens of entrances. I suspect that the grandmasters, Idarran, and Alzur have been hiding in this place all this time.” She flipped open another map that showed passages spreading out like a cobweb, then she pointed at entrance number thirteen. “So I’ve collected the blueprint for the old city wing’s sewers.

***

“We can’t waste any more time. We have to go.” Roy took a deep breath and sat up. He straightened out the straps of his weapons and looked at everyone. Solemnly, he said, “Be prepared, everyone. This is not our regular operation. This could be the most dangerous battle we’ve run into since the brotherhood’s inception, and our enemies are the founders of witcher schools. The people our brethren worship and look up to. Are you sure you can bring yourself to fight them?”

Silence fell upon the group. Coen looked conflicted and nervous. Erland, the role model Coen’s mentor had followed his whole life. Jerome paid the ultimate price just to see him. If they were to be enemies, how should he deal with him?

Letho’s face stiffened up like a rock.

Ivar Evil-Eye. The founder of the Viper School. The one who set their creed, and the pioneer in the fight against the Wild Hunt. His humor and wit still rang in Letho’s mind, and he could see the man’s eyes. They were like flames melting down silver. Ivar was the man who taught him.

The light of reminiscence twinkled in Vesemir’s eyes. Elgar, grandmaster of the Wolf School. When he was still an apprentice, that man was already the strongest man of the first-generation Wolves. He was top-notch in swordplay, Signs, and combat. The school’s blueprints were all his work.

***

There were no Bears among the witchers. Everyone’s only impression about Arnaghad came from someone else. That man almost killed Roy. That debt must be repaid in blood. The Cats were interested in this man. The Cat School’s Trial amplified human emotions and created madmen, while the Bear School’s Trial erased emotions and humanity, creating cold-blooded monsters. They wondered what kind of man he was.

***

“You think you can lecture us, kid? You’re just a fledgling.” Lambert grinned, breaking the silence. He got up and put an arm around Roy’s shoulder. “So what if they’re the grandmasters? So what if it’s Alzur the creator? They’re just old news. Antiques. Dying. They should’ve been buried in the annals of history. If they try to fight us, we fight them, then.” Lambert hissed, “We’ll chop them up and feed them to sewer rats.”

“We are prepared.” Letho touched the dragon scale on his chest. The witchers had changed into lightweight, resilient armor. Over the year or so in Kaer Morhen, the Tordarroch blacksmiths and Vesemir managed to embed dragon scales in all their armor and boost their defense as much as possible. Regular weapons couldn’t leave any marks on it.

The weapons they carried were modified slightly by dragon bones, and they could cut through iron like it was butter. The group was equipped with Cloaks of Silence, and on their belts were potions that glimmered mysteriously. All of them had five mana and health potions each. The regular decoctions like Swallow, Thunderbolt, and Petri’s Philter were all there, of course, but they were also modified by adding Skyrim’s herbs into them. Those herbs enhanced the potions’ efficacy by 20%. Besides that, all witchers also had a black, inconspicuous bottle of decoction, and the liquid inside glimmered red, like blood.

This was a new higher vampire decoction developed by Kalkstein and Letho after they researched deeply into the body of Gruffyd. The toxicity was threatening, but the effects were powerful. The witchers who used that decoction could, temporarily, have healing abilities on par with a higher vampire.

Aside from decoctions, everyone had ten dimeritium bombs, Dragon’s Dream, and other regular bombs.

The brotherhood also spent big money asking Kalkstein to make everyone one secret bomb that could severely injure higher vampires. They also had teleportation crystals that would act as a last resort should they need to escape. They also had one Forgotten Acorn that could save anyone from the brink of death (they’d had three, but Eskel and Roy used one each, leaving one lone acorn in their stash), and Blessed Brisingamen, which Roy acquired not too long ago.

***

Compared to the fully-armed witchers, Coral was in a much more normal attire. She was in a frilly black dress like she was going to attend a ball. She was also wearing an exquisite lady’s hat. The zircon pendant and magical rings on her fingers were glinting with magic. She was like a human-sized magical weapon.

Triss wasn’t too bad either. She was also equipped with a lot of magical items. Kalkstein was standing with them. He was still in his grimy robes, his stubble was messy, and he looked mousy and groggy, like he just awoke. The morning breeze brushing across the garden made him shiver, and he kept rubbing his hands like a human-sized mouse trying to warm himself up, but he’d chuckle, and his eyes would glint mischievously.

“Alzur is one of the most famous sorcerers in human history. More powerful and legendary than Vilgefortz, who’s already turned to dust in space. Well, I say famous, but it’s actually infamy. That man represents an endlesswell of esoteric magical knowledge. We take him and Idarran down, and the brotherhood will claim a hundred years worth of magical supplies.”

“That’s right.” Auckes grinned toothily and came over to hold Roy’s other arm. There was a conflicted look in his eyes. “We’ll make Arnaghad grovel and beg for your forgiveness, but we’re also going to find out what they’ve been doing for the past one hundred years.”

“I’ll ask Ivar why he abandoned us.” Letho’s eyes shone.

“I have the same question for Erland as well,” said Coen quietly, the look on his face changing.

“I’d like to know what Elgar thinks of Kaer Morhen, and if he still holds onto his principles.” Vesemir and the Wolves exchanged a look.

“My wish is simple. To see the Bear School swordsmanship performed by the cruel, heartless Arnaghad.” Felix, Aiden, and Kiyan were rubbing their steel weapons, raring to fight.

“Everyone’s in high spirits, but do not underestimate our enemies. Survival first,” Serrit emphasized.

“They have in their hands the light of purification. That thing is dangerous,” Roy added. “No matter what, if that light shines on you, leave and teleport on the spot.”

Most, if not all, witchers carried sins on their backs. “I don’t want anything to happen to any of you. We’re not losing anyone in this fight.”

***

***

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