The Divine Hunter

City hall, Vizima.

Velerad rubbed his staff silently for a moment, and he took out a check from the drawer. He wrote down the number six hundred on it and handed it to Letho. “Witchers, this is the promised reward. You may exchange this for six hundred oren at any Cianfanelli Bank in the world.”

Letho glanced at the check and handed it to Roy. The young witcher was the financial manager of the team. Adding their reward to the money in the ring Vivienne gave them, the witchers had made over two thousand crowns in this trip alone, though it was still too little for their grand scheme. “This piece of paper doesn’t seem too reliable. I still think crowns are more to my liking.”

“Sirs, you may not trust my word, but do put your faith in Cianfanelli’s reputation. It has stood for centuries. They will not take your money for themselves.”

“Alright, I was just joking. I’ll take it. So when will Azar Javed arrive?”

“I sent someone to notify him when you came back yesterday. He’s working on an experiment at the moment, so he can only be free tomorrow. You’re very welcome to stay here, of course.” The mayor invited, “It’ll be Midaete in about a week, and Vizima will be holding a celebration in the town area. Do please stay around. I’ll show you around town. Vizima’s culture is quite beautiful.”

Roy was interested in the celebration. He had heard of Midaete before. The festival would span from the night of the twenty-first of June until the wee hours of the twenty-second. It would serve as the mark of the first day of summer in the elven calendar. The elves believed that everything under the sun served a cycle. The days would get shorter after Midinvaerne, and death would lay claim to the land until the end of Midinvaerne.

On that day, the people of the land would erect altars to praise the sun and the gift of life, though they would also admit that it was the beginning of the season of death. Mages would stand near the altars to absorb the sun’s energy to strengthen their spells, while witches would use the sun’s power to protect the crops and summon flames. Letho and Roy could also meditate before the temple to increase the strength of their signs, although only slightly.

Midaete was less attractive to Belletyn, however. After all, not many young, single women would dance around the bonfire and search for a mate during Midaete.

Letho shook his head.”Witchers don’t celebrate Midaete, and we are short on time, so we’ll come at this hour tomorrow as promised.”

***

Letho slowed down for a bit. “Celebration means trouble. I can tell you that festivals like these don’t get along well with us witchers. Speaking through experience. If fun is what you want, try taverns or brothels. They’re simple and convenient. You are an official witcher now. You must learn to separate yourself from the crowd and get used to being alone.”

“Fine. You have a point.” Roy shrugged. “But can’t I at least see it once?”

“You don’t have to be in Vizima to experience that,” Letho answered calmly. “Cintra can serve that purpose too. We can’t let Auckes and Serrit wait for too long.”

Letho sighed. He seemed to have remembered something awkward, and he said, “If we keep them waiting for much longer, they’ll find themselves a wife.”

“Ah, there you are.” A group of people came over and interrupted the conversation. The woman in the lead was tall, beautiful, and had white hair.

“Greetings, Your Highness. I see you are well.”

Adda looked at them, and she laughed heartily. “Let’s skip the formalities. Thanks to you two, Lake Vizima’s monster is vanquished.”

“You flatter us, Your Highness,” Roy answered calmly. “Without you and your soldiers controlling the villagers who had succumbed to Dagon, the quest would not have gone as smoothly as it did.”

Adda’s soldiers looked at Roy amicably after he said that.

“You’re being modest. You are the best witchers I have ever seen in my life. Perhaps the best fighters as well.” Adda gave them a mysterious look. “Fighting drowners and nekkers in villages and small towns is a waste of your talent.”

“Your Highness, what are you trying to say?”

“Stay here. Stay at Vizima. You will be greatly rewarded for your services. I guarantee.”

Before Letho could say anything, Roy shook his head immediately. “We might have to disappoint you, Your Highness. No witcher stays in one place unless they’re too old to hold a sword.”

Roy would never be anyone’s lackey.

Anger flashed in Adda’s eyes, and she turned to Letho, but Letho refused her offer as well. “Very well, then.” Adda gritted her teeth, and rage contorted her face. She paced back and forth, and her knights were holding the hilt of their sword. They would arrest the witchers immediately if Adda gave them the order to.

A long while later, Adda heaved a long sigh. “Fine. You have done Vizima a great service. If you wish to leave, I have no grounds to demand that either of you stay.” She then turned to Roy again. “But before you leave, can you grant me one little wish? Can you take me to the Lady of the Lake? You said that she would summon you after Dagon was vanquished.”

Roy pulled a face. “You overestimate me, Your Highness. I’m just a mortal like you. I can’t have an audience with her unless she summons me herself.”

“Are you really out of options, or is the Lady of the Lake only a myth?” Adda still wouldn’t give up, and she muttered, “Melitele, Lebioda, the Lady of the Lake… They can’t be true, right? They must be myths.”

“What should I do?”

“Will she show me her powers if I do so?”

“I cannot guarantee that,” Roy answered. “But a true god will never neglect their most devout believers. If you erect an altar or a temple, then you shall be her biggest worshipper.”

***

Roy started painting a picture of a beautiful future for Adda. In modern words, Roy was going to pull her into an MLM enterprise rated divine. “Think about this, if you build a temple at the lakeside and spread the faith throughout the land, you’ll be the pioneer of a new religion. You’ll be the high priest. And from what I gathered, the Lady of Lake Vizima only has a dozen worshippers, and all of them are vodyanois. You are the princess of this land. Surely you can contribute a lot more than the vodyanois in terms of faith.”

Confusion flashed in Adda’s eyes. She was getting perplexed about the whole matter. “You’re not lying to me, are you, witcher?”

“Why would I cross a future high priest who is also the princess of Temeria?” Roy looked at her earnestly, and he stared her in the eye.

“We’ll be taking our leave if there’s nothing else.” Before they left, Roy glanced at the group of soldiers behind Adda. “Your Highness, about Jacques… Jacques de Aldersberg, is he…”

“Jacques is still alive.” Adda smiled. “He is a lucky man. I do not know how he managed to escape the fallen vodyanois’ pursuit, but escape he did. He flowed down the river and was taken to Mud village. We met him while we were escorting the villagers there. But he’s still recuperating. Once he’s all healed up, he’ll be working as deputy commander under me.”

“Witcher, you still haven’t told me about the lady’s name and her looks. I need a reference to erect a statue.”

Roy described Vivienne’s looks briefly. “I cannot describe her beauty with words alone. If you really want to start a new faith, erect an altar first. As for her name… you may call her Vivienne.”

***

***

When the witchers came to the city hall the next day, an unfamiliar, eerie man was standing beside Velerad.

The man looked like he was in his fifties, and he was wearing a dark, short-sleeved shirt. A pair of leather pauldrons protected his shoulders, and he was wearing an exotic scarf around his neck. His pants were made of leather, and it was tight-fitting. His beard was gruff, to say the least, and his canvas headscarf looked worn up, but it covered his hair perfectly. It was also hiding half his face, as if the man were trying to keep a scar out of sight.

The man was also wearing countless accessories. A part of his protective necklace was protruding through his scarf, and a nose ring adorned his hook nose. His ears—which were larger than most people’s—had studs on them. Seven of his fingers were adorned with rings that had gemstones embedded in them. Of course, these accessories weren’t just for show. They were glinting with magic, so obviously they were alchemical products blessed by magical powers.

Velerad introduced the wizard to them. “This is Azar Jayed. The wizard I’ve talked about. He is the current royal consultant of Vizima’s royal family. He came here today to open up a portal for you two.”

Azar nodded at the witchers, but instead of fear or disgust, there was a desire to investigate in his eyes. It was as if he were going to cut the witchers up with a scalpel and see what they were made of.

The wizard might be staring at the witchers all he wanted, but he didn’t do anything outrageous to them, nor did he make any disgusting remarks. “Witchers, I have two portals in Cintra. One is located in northern Cintra’s Firetail Inn, while the other is in a forest near the city gates. Which one would you like?” Contrary to his looks, Azar’s voice was gentle and reassuring.

The witchers looked at each other, and they chose the portal in the inn. Roy hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he asked, “And another thing. Can we take our horses through the portal? Both of them.”

“What did you say?” Azar nodded, but then he shook his head. “Velerad told me there would only be two clients, and the spell is only enough for you two. Adding two large animals to the equation will affect the portal’s stability. You might end up in the sky or above a live volcano. Of course, you might also get lost in another dimension.”

“Um…” Roy wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead.

Letho remarked nonchalantly, “Forget it, kid. Let’s leave the horses here. We’ll buy a couple when we need them.”

“No wonder you can’t save any crowns.” Roy shook his head. “This is a big waste of money.”

Azar stopped the argument. “If you insist on taking your mounts with you, I can still make it possible. But on one condition.”

“Is that so?” The witchers were on high alert. “Name your condition.”

“I need your blood. Just a little. Enough for one small flask.”

Azar couldn’t tell that it wasn’t witcher blood, so he took it happily, then he started chanting a complex, mysterious spell. The room started rumbling violently, and a square-shaped portal appeared out of thin air. Despite its shape, it had a whirlpool in its center, and its outer ring shone blue. The winds that shot out of the portal ruffled the witchers’ hair, but they were unfazed. “Don’t waste any time. You only have thirty seconds.” Azar crossed his legs and wiggled his fingers in the air to keep the portal open.

Roy calmed Wilt down and looked into the door. “Letho, I heard that this experience is a disgusting one.”

“Where’d you hear that from? It’s not disgusting. It feels great.” Letho tensed up, looking as if they were facing a formidable foe. It feels like…” He wrapped his arm around Roy’s shoulder gently.

“Like what?”

“Like death.”

That was the last thing Roy heard, and he screamed a curse as Letho took him through the portal.

***

The Lady of the Lake: The End

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