The Witcher's Path: New Rays From an Ancient Sun

I awoke a few hours later, the desperate need for a proper nap overruling even my typically all-encompassing want to eat. The metabolic ‘hangover’ of digesting so much food from the night before, alongside my long labors over the cauldron of Venom, had ensured not a single atom of my being was not at least in some way still fatigued. Like the night before, I had once again stumbled my way back into the safe, comfortable confines of my personal quarters; only the bare minimum of equipment being shed as needed for basic comfort upon my bed. The daylight outside my narrow windowpane was bold, but tarnished somewhat by the signs of the approaching dusk. I had easily slept for a straight six or seven hours without interruption, something which had done many wonders for clearing my mind. Regrettably, by wearing all my armor to bed save for some minor trappings, I had scarcely found the comfiest of sleeping positions to lie in all morning. As a result, my first instinctual movement was to stretch and immediately I was met with a horrid ache in my right foreleg as I had awkwardly slept up on it. The ache continued up my shoulder and into the crook of my neck and even some ways beyond towards the base of my skull. Even using the prescribed system of stretches and joint cracks, I found the area to be well beyond the capabilities of mere stretching and in desperate need of a professional touch. While I could have made use of my own telekinesis in order to squeeze and knead those muscle groups as burned with pain, I reasoned I may as well pay someone else to do all the work for me. After all…Rosalia Rosefeather was far more skilled in the art than my own clumsy magic could ever perform on myself and required far less effort and concentration on my part. There were some places I could reach without a problem…yet that skill was hardly going to be enjoyable with such a pain in my shoulder, neck and leg.

The clock on the wall indicated it was only a few minutes past one in the afternoon and I was gracious to know I hadn't slept overnight and risked missing Violet and Topaz before they departed, let alone the Vigil to be held in Braxia’s honor later on. Along with the desire to wish them luck and safety for their extended leave of the Valley, I also wished to simply embrace the two as, with the preludes of war stirring once more in the air, it could be a lengthy time before I saw them again. If ever… Of course, such a notion had to be left behind lest I found melancholy as my closest companion for the road ahead, amidst the other worries my upcoming mission entailed. Mission… Is that what my mind was already beginning to refer to this undocumented 4a Contract I was to undertake? It troubled me that I was already finding my mind slipping into the muck surrounding the job all too readily as questions I'd normally never ask myself prickled at my thoughts. Such things as what disguise would best warrant a mare like myself, or how would I approach any number of conceivable physical or Arcane engagements against trained Sentients. The latter was something I always considered, if at least subconsciously, whenever Equestrians of any sort were in the vicinity; a response which was admittedly born of an equal helping of caution and hatred combined. However…never before had I considered such a fight with armed Sentients in such a light as I was now. They remained as obstacles in almost every situation as civilians and soldiers alike could impede Hunts through sheer idiocy alone, yet never before had I a need to sneak past them or attempt any level of subterfuge. Let alone in the active pursuit of a noble of note under their watchful protection, even if it was merely by proxy alone… Indeed, in order to even stand a chance of committing such an assassination, I would need to temporarily part with my beloved armor and break yet another in a long line of laws being left in my wake. I was nowhere near as rashly bold as the Cats as to openly dispatch of my targets in the public square in broad daylight whilst proudly still wearing the armor and colors of my School for all to see. As such, I was inevitably likely to be left with little bodily protection outside of the clothes I chose to wear, unless I were able to obtain a chain hauberk which could be worn under a disguise of some sort.

That all being said, I loathed that I had to admit that Violet had somewhat of a point when she had asked if I were excited to test my skills against Sentient opponents. My ultimate target was undoubtedly only fit to offer a satisfying death, yet his aides would cover the difference in his stead. The very idea of stealthing-about was almost appalling to me…and perhaps that was precisely why those Cats had been so brazenly open with their murderous crimes. Indeed, the thicker the defenses surrounding their target, the more gleeful they had seemed to become as they leveraged their ridiculous speed and agility to cut down armed guards with ease. And in truth…finding myself now having to ponder over the specifics of all to do with such a sordid topic, I found myself coming to something akin to terms with their actions. To a point. As a mare of action myself, I was far from a passive (or perhaps even patient) Hunter at my core, even if my training had ensured a greater mastery over my instinctual responses than I would otherwise possess. I too, upon uncomfortably painful consideration, would prefer such a brazen move as it removed more unknowable factors from the occasion. No need for a convincing disguise, alibi, precarious navigation of hidden or self-made paths, or for even pausing to ponder upon the word ‘inconspicuous’. The only path was victory, whilst all others in the way could be freely dispatched instead of a frantic scramble for cover in order to avoid prying eyes. As an old adage of the Cats themselves went, ‘leave not a one standing as may bear witness and report thine sins’. While I truly wished I too could be so uncaring as to embrace such a doctrine so as to eliminate what guilt I otherwise felt…my morality would not be so easily, or readily subdued. I would spare every Soul that I could for as long as I could help it in my upcoming journey. Only one truly needed fall by my hoof…and it would be the first life I had ever taken outside the confines of armed conflict between two (relatively) equal parties. He would be far from the first Sentient to die by my blade, yet all the rest had been clad in plate, gambeson or chain whilst armed with all manner of lethal weaponry. I could only imagine how easily one of my Fangs could pierce through a pompous frock of silk, even if that was hardly the method I would choose unless absolutely necessary. In the end, I was far more nervous about it all than I was expecting…

However…given I had already given my answer that I would do her this massive favor…I had no reason to not approach it with the same level of care and caution as I would any other Hunt. Thus, I immediately made a move to retrieve my Codex from the safety of its dedicated leather bag on the front face of my chest harness. Flipping through the earliest pages, I passed by the Hunt Ledgers and onto the neatly folded mass of parchment that comprised the entire second section of the Codex. The complicated layers of smaller portions all unfolded to reveal an enchanted map around a meter squared in size presenting a lofty bird's-eye view of the School, the southern half of the Mirror and Redclaw Ridge, and the northern half of Scarlet Pines. All these fine details were displayed in lifelike clarity as if I myself were flying aloft above the Valley, the bold light illuminating it all as if stuck at midday. With my position marked perfectly in the southeast corner of the Master's Tower by a fancifully designed arrow, it was a glowing example of the vast utility that had been developed for Witcher's work. No map remains static however, and members of the Scouts Elite trained in the art of geomancy and cartography were routinely sent out in order to update our maps with new developments as they appeared on the Continent. Unfortunately, with the Cleansing robbing our guild and our associates of much of our former income, resources and bodies to command, our modern maps were…patchwork for lack of a better term. Whilst places like the Valley, Trottingham and the regions surrounding Canterlot were routinely kept up-to-date, locations more far flung from Kaer Solaris, like the Crescent Coast, the Lunar Dominions, or a Kingdom such as Asgarnia, were entirely piecemeal at best. Limitations brought about by the Cleansing ensured that large swaths of wilderness territory were only re-surveyed every few decades or, like with the Thestral Dominion, entirely left with vague maps well over fifty-years old as none were cordially invited to update them.

Graciously, the High Road never changed all that much since its last paver was laid in place, making it one of the few constants which could be relied on for planning lengthy journeys across the Continent. Less grand or well-laid paths had been added onto the High Road over the centuries by local rulers or by Celestia's command as their civilization continued to spread itself out across our world. There would be the same old ruins to spy along the way, those same reminders of the past I myself had only but briefly seen in person. Decaying monuments to the Age of the Moon and the simpler tranquility of that now so distant era. My trip to Misty Meadows would scarcely be the longest I had undertaken, yet it would still be a three-to-four day journey by hoof. Worse yet, the High Road to my destination passed by within a few leagues of the Lion's Redoubt, now called the Bastard's Den by some. So close to their front doorstep, I would be frankly insulted if I failed to spot at least a few Witch Hunters strutting about the area and flaunting their pompous position with their equipment of white and gold... And there was always the extreme likelihood of the presence of at least one blasted Priest of the Eternal Pyre, their most elite, and most sadistic, masters of the Arcane as beholden to the indiscriminate powers of fire magic. No…such an approach would require leaving the High Road and making a path cross-country through the wildlands for great stretches of time. I was hardly enthusiastic about pondering over such a journey, even if the wilderness offered much more excitement than the known, beaten path…

The spell controlling what was actively displayed upon my map was fundamentally tied to my own Arcane signature, updating my position in real-time as I moved about and offering some other useful basic features. Gripping the corners in my magic, the geomancy spell of the map entwined itself with my Aura allowing me to will the parameters of the map to change and move towards the south following the long, winding path of the High Road. Visible as a broad granite serpent tracing lines through the greenery of the natural landscape, the High Road led my path westwards along the broad land border of the Duchy of Āider directly to the south and then near the Kingdom of Trottingham to the southwest. There were a few branching paths along the way and the route passed through, or close by, a few major settlements allowing for opportunities to resupply were I to run out of anything. With the region becoming progressively more populated, especially compared to my days at Kaer Nathair, there was going to be no shortage of possible encounters whilst making the journey; most likely to not be friendly or pleasant. Yet…even as I glanced at the quickest route there, I knew in my heart I was not quite so willing to leave as soon as I had thought. If I left the Valley as I was now, I would almost certainly feel regret for not having taken every opportunity to enjoy the School during the height of summer prior to returning to the Path. My only true deadline to leave was the one given by the Archmaster, though I would hope to find myself already well-embarked on my journey by the dawn of Sunday morning. I was far from a stranger to lengthy treks, yet my inner battle between departing with time to spare and staying to enjoy some rest and relaxation was a...furious one to say the least. Even as I stood there pondering it over, I yet again felt the call of my stomach for another fine meal whilst the rest of my body pined away for the Baths like I were a heartsick lover. The perks of becoming a Mentor were continually dangling their temptations before my mind's eye as I considered their constant access to hot meals, warm, comfortable beds, and of course, the Hall of Pools amongst other perks. And to say nothing of their constant access to Redclaw Ridge and the many other comforts to be found there amidst so many Eldar… But who would be my pupil…? Not a single Soul came to mind who was not already the pupil of some other Witcher at the School and I had not bothered to stop and learn a single name of any of the Novices on my trip through the Bastion. No...I could not be a Mentor without someone to mentor...

With a sigh, I folded my map back up in the proper fashion before casually tossing my Codex onto the comforter of my bed. A petty scheme had been planted in my thoughts which required some time to sprout before I fully committed to the idea, yet it felt appealing enough to try and pursue. Sir Tiffy and his Foxes would be making use of Arcane assistance in order to cross the border covertly, cutting down their journey from days to minutes to seconds as they would likely be deposited directly within the Vulpine Manor itself. With the door to a possible favor left somewhat ajar from my last interaction with our Sorceress Supreme, I felt fairly certain of my ability to convince her to do something of the same for myself. It went against the spirit of the Path to rob oneself of the physical journey from place-to-place, yet I was not embarking on the Path itself quite yet. Indeed...my initial endeavors once I left were decidedly not related to the Witcher's Path and in fact went against almost everything it stood for in word and spirit. It was difficult to know where to stand upon the issue given the nature of my mission to Misty Meadows…but what was I to do? I had already given my consent to performing this on Violet’s behalf. She was reckless, impulsive and up her own arse, yet she had earned my trust in this matter at least. There was always another blueblood waiting in the wings to replace whomever we removed, yet there always seemed to be some good performed by doing it. Her web of contacts in Yonderland would always return with messages of thanks from the poor Souls which had previously been crushed under the foul hooves of these pests we weeded out from their midst.

At first I had the sneaking suspicion that she was merely forging all those slips of paper and spouting platitudes whenever she proudly reported the impacts of our work. Yet, the messages were never the same, even if they all carried a similar theme. The writings varied in style and quality as well and I came to recognize the pen strokes of one particular individual, likely a learned scribe, who seemed to translate to paper what any unlettered mind could not for a modest fee. Given many of those lives positively impacted by our actions were typically quite low on the social hierarchy, it was impressive as many of them knew how to write missives of their own and only the poorest went uneducated in Yonderland. It had bewildered me that such letters could even be written in gratitude, let alone make it to their intended recipient and the perpetrator of the gruesome deed. Yet she herself had admitted her reputation amongst the lower classes for her targeted crusade of fratricide had won her many sympathizers and their messages passed through many intermediaries before reaching Violet's hooves directly. Regardless…my feelings towards such messages had considerably changed once I allowed myself to accept that Violet was not merely pulling wool over my eyes in an attempt to placate me into granting her my continued assistance. I felt some remorse that that had been my initial response to it…yet I also felt that I could hardly be blamed for thinking that way. Violet was, after all, known to lean into hyperbole whenever she felt strongly towards a particular opinion or philosophy. Still...there was much yet to be considered in this grand mental balancing of the scales.

It took little to recognize that the School of the Cat had warped both mare’s perspectives on the spirit of the Witcher's Code. Their personal definition of monsters had been adjusted to include such Sentients as could be almost universally acknowledged to be utterly devoid of Light within their hearts. And indeed, even I could agree that such a flexible definition was perhaps warranted when the subject in question was untouchable by typical judicial means. Yet, I was admittedly from a far older generation of Witchers and had spent the majority of my life faithfully orthodox to the Witcher's Code. Simply put, it made such exceptions as that difficult to fathom given the punishment of criminal elements was to be performed by the relevant authorities. Our profession, upon all forms of legal writ, was defined as ‘monster slayers'. A profession signed off and sealed by a heavily accredited guild recognized and established the world over. And yet, all the same, Violet had managed to foster a unique form of trust in me by successfully appealing to my personal sense of justice and righteous anger. I was ashamed to admit that I considered both to be a consistent burden upon my conscience, even if I was able to restrain myself when the situation demanded. Indeed, she had even prickled a sense of satisfaction out of me for assisting her on her crusade of pruning her family tree. The lurid, murderous bastard who had elicited such feelings of revulsion in me as to make me queasy…knowing that my behind-the-scenes assistance had brought an end to his twisted existence… I could at least admit to myself that I felt a certain wordless weight lift from off my shoulders upon hearing news of his death. Her ends were met through my help and good, innocent folks were freed, if perhaps temporarily, from unruly tyranny. There were...worse ways in which to try and attempt to better the world, and certainly far more deluded reasons for eliminating certain rogue elements in a world which was already growing darker by the day.

Despite her somewhat abrasive approach to conversation, Violet had yet to overly abuse the level of trust I had learned to place in her executive judgments upon her kin. And, despite the somewhat concerning level of satisfaction she garnered from killing off her admittedly fucked-up extended family, I had yet to feel truly disturbed by her actions. In truth, I too had been instrumental in the deaths of well over a dozen of them with my contribution of potent, untraceable toxins to their cause. I had been able to placate my sense of honor regarding the Code by reasoning with myself that I was merely helping a friend by brewing something she could not; what she did with the substance was entirely out of my control and supervision as she was a grown mare fit to make her own choices. And yet, here I was…poised to directly participate in an assassination of my own directly on her behalf. The feeling was akin to that of staring over the lip of a great pit of dark, murky water with unfathomable depths and unknowable hazards hidden somewhere below. Who knew how deep it went? Or what hidden dangers lurked beneath the surface which could trap me underneath and drown me dead after a long, painful struggle to breathe? I profoundly shuddered to my very bones at such a mental image…even in spite of my ability to hold my breath for far longer than the average Equine, the idea of drowning had always horrified my assorted nightmares. Even death by fire would be preferable in my mind as, eventually, the nerves too are burnt away just as readily as one's flesh and fur bringing about an eventual blessed end to the pain. Yet nothing short of overdosing on Fisstech (somehow whilst underwater) could possibly hope to dull the pain and terror of such a death. Of course…having let my imagination run rampant with the particulars of my own metaphor, I was left biting my lip nervously as I attempted to steer my thoughts back to the safety of land and away from the depths I so loathed. Not that events on the Continent were any more pleasant to consider…but they were a right sight better than pondering over the particulars surrounding a watery grave. I could not for the life of me understand how the Örn or the Störmgŭll could stand to take to the oceans upon mere boats of wood and iron without the fear of the depths consuming them whole like it could me...

I could not help but sit down in my plush armchair and sigh with a slight growl whilst gripping my head in my hooves. Without a muffling charm active, I naturally had to keep my growl of annoyance as quiet as I could so as to not bother any neighbors who might be asleep themselves at this hour for one reason or another. Regardless, I did my best to vent out what confused, irritable emotions as swirled about within my head and heart as I thought in circles about the issue. There was little honor worth salvaging in what I was tasked with performing…a task she was going to force payment upon me whether I wished it or not. I loathed the back-and-forth which raged about in my mind like a tumultuous sea in the midst of a fierce storm. Centuries of honorable adherence to the Witcher's Code had habituated me into spitting upon the vile idea of killing other Sentients for coin. Witchers were better suited for the work than most any others alive as indeed, we were better fit for most anything which involved physical confrontation. Yet, that hardly gave any of us the right to engage in wanton violence amidst the civilian population when a second, far more dangerous population was already awaiting its death at the edge of a silver sword. And while it was true that not all monsters are equal in terms of strength or relative danger, only a scarce few of their number found themselves easily overpowered by your common Mares-at-Arms. Any scrappy half-witted arsehat could take a rock and beat another Sentient to death for a few Orens. That same trick would, by stark contrast, never work when facing down any number of proper Witcher's work. A rusty fork can, in the right circumstances, be enough to kill even a mighty King. With a monster's tough, Dark-imbued hides…not even a decorated Paladin in gilt plate hoped to offer their enemy anything more than a difficult meal to consume as they fished for flesh like it were a can of potted meat.

“What do you make of all this…?” I asked softly towards my Medallion. “Is this the right course of action for us…?”

It was only somewhat pointless to ask my Guardian as to its opinion as it was still just an extension of my own Soul, yet each Guardian was always unique to the Witcher they were bonded with. Though they all took the same 'physical' form as per the School of their origin, the experiences of their Witcher would inevitably change and adapt them as their own power grew in tandem with their Witcher. They were a part of us, yet there was a unique incarnation of the Power within each of them that went beyond just another simple Arcane construct. The result was a somewhat vague, yet very much aware, consciousness all its own which accompanied us for the rest of our terrestrial existence. They all drew their strength to exist from our Souls directly as a living piece of our very own essence and extension of our own inner selves, and yet…something almost akin to a small Soul of their own dwelt within our Medallions as well. One which evolved and matured as we too grew and matured into the fullness of our callings as Witchers. Like any good Witcher, we worked in tandem yet after so much time together, I had learned she had a bit of an opinion of her own which could differ from what I told myself I believed. The responses one would receive from their Guardian were muddled and hazy at first, as if an image, scent, sound, or emotion felt through a half-remembered dream. Even then, the strength behind these impressions only gained in vibrancy and strength over the centuries as Witcher and Guardian developed their talents and polished their skills as one cohesive entity. They were hardly capable of verbal speech, or projecting full-sentence thoughts into their Witcher's mind, yet I had spent enough time with her to feel like we had a working relationship with one another and I could infer much of what she wished to convey through our special link. It was somewhat illogical to refer to my Guardian as if she were a Sentient entity of her own, yet it was a habit I had fallen into somewhere along the course of my life. While they were but an extension of ourselves, that tiny spark of individuality and consciousness within them ensured theirs could be a will of their own and an opinion which could differ from that of our own. To have consensus with one's Guardian would ensure our motions would be in sync when danger arises. Their ability to manifest in one's personal defense in the blink of an eye was a gift few alive had the opportunity to experience, and a gift it was indeed. I would not trade my bond with my Guardian for any weight in gold, Bitters, or even untold carats in beautiful faceted jewels.

The response I received from her was…muddled and confused, which was rather fitting given my own inner turmoil over the whole matter. The flash image of a dagger clattering to the ground in disgust, the alluring smell of gold, the sound of growling, angered frustration, the faint taste of blood in the back of the mouth, and the terse feeling of anticipation and nervousness. All these sensory experiences could be felt at once from the strange little quasi-Soul dangling from around my neck, presenting an unsure message of general concern. I was brought some modicum of comfort to know that she was just as conflicted as I was regarding the task ahead… Indeed, there were equal parts excitement and anxiety to be felt regarding the ending of a Sentient life outside the confines of a proper battlefield. And yet, after a few moments more, there was a sense of finality as the image of a Dark entity being shattered like glass flashed behind my eyes followed closely by a feeling of grim satisfaction. There was reluctance still hanging in the wings…but she seemed resigned and committed to the kill, seemingly taking comfort in the idea that our target was a wholesale piece of Fiend shite. I too found some comfort in that sordid fact and similarly resigned myself to the facts of the situation. A Daemon in mortal flesh was to fall by our hoof, marking a new experience in my lengthy existence that I was still not prepared to fully comprehend. I would do it, if not for the simple sake of the poor Yonderlandians who suffered under his reign, yet nowhere was I contracted to be happy about it. I was hardly expecting myself to enjoy even a single moment of the journey, no matter how much satisfaction my efforts would bring Violet and Topaz.

“Well…I appreciate your honesty at least.” I replied to her aloud whilst sitting back further in my seat and rubbing my eyes. “Gods, this is not how I expected our return home to end up like…”

In an attempt to clear my head somewhat, I laid it back upon the comfortable headrest of my chair and closed my eyes against the world hoping to retreat into a sea of calm thought. It was more difficult than expected as the worry refused to relinquish its grip and the soft clicks of my clock were annoyingly amplified in my ears. Indeed, it seemed intent on reminding me that time slowed for none but Gods and Whisps as the seconds ticked on by and I continued to sit. I could postpone the inevitable until the bitter end…yet none would benefit from such an action as that same bitterness would surely make for a heavy heart upon the High Road; a weight that would only drag the journey on into a perpetual purgatory of self-flagellating thoughts of doubt, fear and worry. My only comforts were the terrible reputation of the one assigned to perish…and perhaps…the promise of gold for services rendered did not sound like the worst possible outcome for my inner turmoil. It was far from a formalized Contract, yet the overtures of the detestable 4a could be faintly felt throughout it nonetheless. It pained me to think over what my late Mentor would think or say if he were to hear of it…and yet…things were undeniably as that mysterious Örn, Kárá, had inferred. The world around us had significantly changed since our ever-distant Golden Age, and most certainly not for the better. Witchers were still sworn to fight the Abyss, its inherent Darkness, and all its Helspawn in all their many horrible shapes and twisted forms…it was time I attempted to make peace with this new form of evil. Or...rather, it was a form of evil which had always existed but was the one exception forbidden unto us. Once upon a time the defining line between beings of Light and those of Dark felt so much simpler with far fewer layers of ambiguous grey to it all. We Sentients have always had our squabbles and infighting in our wanton struggle for personal dominance, yet in that same breath it could be said we were all flickers of Light worth fighting for; even Equestrians could be extended such a courtesy in my heart-of-hearts. And then, somewhere across the march of centuries, those blessed lines started to blur far too much and the painful truth began to set in. Not all species wish to make friends with their neighbors, have an eye for their neighbor’s property, and can field more infantry than some entire species of Eldar combined. I was sworn to protect the innocent and I could still fulfill that duty…it only took the death of one in this case. An animal of an individual by all accounts…a Daemon in spirit and a poisoned dagger poised at the heart of any unlucky enough to be born under his direct rule. No truer an enemy of the innocent and common good existed in this would outside of those beings spawned directly from the depths of the Abyss itself. I could take my peace in that.

The growl of my stomach, accompanied by the painful cramps which accompanied hunger, was more than enough to rouse me fully from my rather pensive doze. Of course, alongside all this came the call of nature as my previous meals had finally meandered their way through my digestive system after being parsed for every scrap of nutriment to be had from it. The Changes ensured all but the most indigestible of matter stayed overlong and was fully absorbed to be used by our bodies to fuel the high energy demands we typically found ourselves facing. As a result, the need to relieve oneself was rather infrequent and resulted in little matter actually being expelled from the body when compared to our contemporaries in whatever species we had once been prior to the Changes. Yet, all the same, we too needed to shit and piss like anything else living which consumed external sources of nutritional energy to sustain itself. Graciously, the School was more than equipped with facilities to handle such needs as five multi-stall lavatories were to be found scattered about the grounds as well as several smaller, more private units located near faculty offices and in the cellar of each of the Towers along the curtain wall. Another pair of lavatories were located in the Grand Library, a larger unit meant for Kitchen staff lay tucked away near the Shrine Hall, and even the Crosswinds featured a pair built into the tower wall for staff and travelers lodged there. It could prove a desperate trot, yet there were places enough evenly spaced about the School to service most everyone in need, something which could most definitively not be said of Kaer Nathair and its delapidated amenities.

Only one of these varied locations had my interest at this time however, and it lay built off the side of the Hall of Pools which was my ultimate destination. In the interest of time and convenience, I reluctantly parted with my beloved armor and slipped once more into the comfortable, stylish emerald-and-silver gambeson from before. Needing to strip naked for the Baths regardless, the gambeson made for a far-swifter disrobing which meant less hassle with straps, buckles and the multiple overlapping layers of defense. The familiar weight of my hauberk, cuirass and otherwise was far more of a comfort to me than a burden as the sense of protection it brought about went beyond the ability of mere words to convey. However, graciously for my somewhat twitchy anxiety, the Solar Valley was the safest place for Eldar which warmly welcomed me in with wide-open arms, let alone Kaer Solaris itself and her mighty walls and stalwart Guard. To shed the extra weight and slight mobility restriction for but a couple of hours would hardly get me killed. After all, for every Master given the freedom to wear something other than their armor, there were still yet dozens more Adepts, Graduates, Apprentices and Acolytes who were still mandated to do so. It was tiring to feed my mind the same calming reassurances…but it needed to be done if I were to function without an overwhelming gnawing worry eating away at my each and every thought. And yet…the knowledge of what was to come before too long had already set its icy fangs of trepedatious anxiety into my hide. As a psychological compromise, once the last buckle was fastened across my breast to close the gambeson about my bodice, my bracers, gloves and spaulders were likewise fastened atop. Given the armored plate of my boots was integrated into their very construction, my hindlegs felt consciously safe and secured whilst my mind was forcibly given to focusing elsewhere other than on my flanks and torso only being protected by mere gambeson. I could still very much feel the lack of a gorget about my neck and the familiar confines of my cuirass around my breast was a sensation I sorely missed the moment it was taken from me, not to mention the sweet comfort of my lengthy hauberk of gleaming scales…yet it would have to do.

With my longswords and Fangs set into their proper places, I finally departed my room and embarked onto the central lift in order to descend from the Master's Tower and my place of slumber. Unlike my route from the morning, I opted to pass along the front face of the upper balustrade of the Master's Hall and paused for a moment to take in the ever-stunning beauty of the School Gardens down below me. Being only an hour-or-so past noonday, there was a definite noise to be faintly heard from the Upper and Lower Courtyards as students had returned to their various lessons about the School with full fervor. Regrettably my afternoon meal would have to consist of whatever leftovers I could manage to scrounge from the Kitchens which solidly marked it as my first destination. The interconnectivity of the School ensured I could still proceed directly on to the Baths from there, though I would need to finish my hasty meal long before I even entered its domain. The amount of moisture in the Hall of Pools ensured its retinue of cleaners and attendants had plenty enough work to keep on top of without needing to also clean soggy bread or any other sodden articles of food from the pools and surrounding areas. Even Master and Grandmaster Witchers were hardly spared an exception from such a rule, though I personally was entirely sympathetic and understanding of such a request from our humble staff. The blessed opportunity to make use of the Baths was a privilege we were offered, not an inherent right we were owed by mere association with the guild. Indeed, some Souls had even found themselves entirely barred from entry due to poor past behavior or repeated rule-breaking as the staff had free reign to serve and bar whomever they would. In an event which would only solidify these rules, several casks of heartily fortified Chateau de la Toulour were once smuggled inside the Baths around a year or two into my tenure at the School of the Wolf. Though I was not present for the incident itself, what transpired had become an event echoed from off every wall and rooftop of the School and the Valley beyond as both a humorous tale and a lesson in School etiquette. A struggle to share and then hide them led to some of the wooden casks cracking and the entire dark burgundy contents spilling forth into the hottest pool in the Baths that was not pure magma. The exceedingly high temperature ensured stray ethanol rose up with the steam and the struggle for the casks had splashed the laced water about the rim of the pool. Adding to it a stray, fiery sneeze from a Dragon in the rule-breaking group which set it all alight for a brief moment and the moment was cemented into the heart of Kaer Solaris' long history. Needless to mention…but there was Hel to pay by that adventurous group of imbeciles. And as a terrible result, everyone else not even remotely involved, like myself, had to suffer along as well for their poor choices. Ever it remained my wish to lazily dine upon grapes and imbibe cold Bitters in the warm embrace of their blessed waters...

It was thanks to incidents such as that stupidity which ensured that I fully understood why they forbade even simple beverages into the Hall of Pools. As such, upon making my way through the Great Hall and into the heavy aromatic warmth of the Kitchens, I resolved to portion for myself that which I could eat in haste while still not feeling like I had robbed my stomach of the satisfaction. One of our precious cooks was so kind as to garner my attention whilst cleaning the last of the noonday meal of roast mixed vegetables and freshly-caught trout. There was always an ample abundance of food prepared for the three main meals and the intermittent lighter meals, the remainder of each being served to the rest of staff and any pilgrims or Fire Priests who had their own allotted lunch period an hour after the main student and faculty body had eaten. Staff on duty were of course welcome to snack somewhat whilst working away day-by-day in order to tide them over until their own appointed meal hour in a measure which assisted with their morale. And indeed, many kept small baskets of mixed foodstuffs nearby their assigned station for such an occasion with nuts, dried fruits and either very pale ale, or watered-down wine being popular choices for refreshment. Being a Witcher ahungered, they were most gracious in setting aside a larger pewter platter of fish and vegetables for me to enjoy. Not only that, but they went so far as to invite me into a cozy little nook in the scullery with a small table and seats enough for ten at a time. The small space was somewhat cramped given the scullery itself was not all that large to begin with, yet it was far from dingy or poorly decorated as, even in here, the walls had been the gracious recipient of plaster and a bounteous, if simple, application of paint. No grand tale was depicted here, yet the beautiful vista of some coastal shoreline at noonday had been rendered in vibrant, bright colors whilst the small crystal chandelier above was encircled by a mural of the Sun on the ceiling. A set of slender bookshelves had also been crammed into the space, seemingly offering our hungry staff something to read as they ate and rested from their labors for a time. A quick glance at the book spines of assorted heights revealed mostly works which would most concern a civilian; namely tales of adventure, both factual and fictitious, as well as tales of romance and comedy, theatrical stage plays, assorted religious texts, and general overviews of a myriad of subjects from history and geography, to international politics and esoteric philosophies. With the Valley having near-universal literacy across every citizen, it was little wonder even such simple, humble servants to a guild of great renown would likewise be a step above the typical castles’ retinue of residents both great and small. With daylight slipping away from me with every passing second until my inevitable departure from the Valley, I resisted the urge to indulge in some of the shelves’ contents as it would only extend my little meal break far too overlong. Instead, I sat in relative silence and happily consumed my food whilst some of the other staff entered and took a seat nearby me with platters of their own. I prided myself on being approachable by even the lowliest of the staff, yet I was well aware that I was also leaving myself open to a barrage of questions from an understandably enthralled group of relative outsiders. They worked with and amongst us...yet there was an inherent divide between us which some Witchers took to a cold, distant extent. Something which made the common citizen nervous and a fateful reputation which I strove to avoid attaching to myself at all costs, even if it was merely just some of my time and attention.

“I apologize for taking up one of your seats at this table…” I said with some remorse as the other nine chairs filled up quickly and I could see others making their way through the scullery to sit outdoors. "I would take this up to my room were I not destined for the Hall of Pools immediately after I finish eating, otherwise I would not need to take up this place at your table."

“Bah, think nothin’ of it Master Witcher.” A young Elk buck with budding horns commented around a mouth full of pan-fried asparagus with salt and herbs. “Take yer rest n’ eat heartily, we all know the Baths won’t allow any entry otherwise. B’sides, it ain’t like we are wanting for places to enjoy some grub 'round this fortress. A lot of us like to go to the top of the Servant’s Courtyard lift tower and have our meal there in the blessed mountain air and under the Sun. Speaking of, we keep a couple tables and lots o’ chairs up there just for that same purpose in fact, if ye ever have th' need.”

“I knew that already in due fact, I have witnessed much the same from my bedroom window in the Master’s Tower.” I replied with a soft smile of amusement. “It faces southwards so the whole of the Servant’s Courtyard is laid bare before my view every time I look out. I am curious though, do you enjoy your employment here at the School?”

“Is…this some type of performance review…?” He asked whilst exchanging mildly panicked looks with his fellows sat beside us.

“Hardly, I was merely curious given we could not function as we need to as Witchers without the assistance of good mares and stallions such as yourselves. If we needed to cook, clean, tend to the Gardens, guard the walls and all else you good folks perform on our behalf…well, there would scarcely be time for us to pursue our studies and physical training after all else was said and done. You all fulfill a dearly-necessary task for us, a long list of tasks at that even. The guild owes our continued ability to operate so smoothly due to your many combined efforts. You are of most importance to the functionality of everything that goes on within these walls and if we lose you, we lose the School. At least as we know it now... I'm sure we Witchers would figure out a duty roster to fulfill your duties...yet we would be indescribably hindered in our ability to train when so many of us would be needed to keep a School this size functioning.”

“And that right there is precisely why I continue to reside here amongst you all.” A Unicorn mare I was unfamiliar with spoke up from the opposite end of the table. “I was a maid in the mayor’s household in Sire’s Hollow as a young mare some twenty years past. Despite doing much the same sort of work for him as I perform here, the pay and conditions were absolutely horrid by comparison. It is all tough work to be sure, but I wouldn't trade my place here for any King’s court outside these walls. I have found a definite place here amongst you all. A simple place, yet a peaceful one with individuals who value my life more than that of some mere servant of an unfair power structure. And with this Valley's fortifications? There's scarcely a safer place to dwell in this world.”

“I most-heartily second all she said.” Boomed a stocky Pegasus stallion whilst raising a hefty hoof. “The same could be said for working as a farrier for Sir Iron Hedge… He and his daft soldiers oft required a new shoe be hammered out and affixed in short order. The way he and they galivanted about…you would think I were a terrible crafter from how oft they would throw their shoes, nails and all… They were Knights in name only, just a gang of young devils who've always enjoyed a lofty position in this world by grace of their bloodline. Damned fool liked to claim he slew a Greater Dragon and would point to the skull of one mounted above his mantle like that proved his point...”

“Oh? I cannot say that particular name rings a bell with me…” I responded softly whilst parsing the pages of my memory for a hint of a clue as to this one particular Knight in an ocean of lordly Equestrians.

“A Knight of the Crescent Coast.” He replied simply with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “Or at least he was when I departed the Duchy in order to reach this splendid place. Gods knows if he was able to retain his title with that laughable band of miscreants he calls friends… And that Dragon I mentioned? A fuckin' relic he dug up during some illegal mining activities he was doing on the border with the Crystallians. He was searching for gold to offset his debts and gained a mighty tale of false heroism which paid it off for him. The lucky bastard...”

“Oh? Well isn't that a lark... And how recent was your move to our Valley?” I asked with genuine interest as, while we did have Equestrian citizens seek us out for sanctuary, the number of petitioners had been understandably throttled in recent decades.

“Him? He's been here about five years now I'd like to say.” A comely Wolfess answered for him, putting a comforting grey paw upon his hoof on the table. “Birchwood is of the Armory staff for his prior experience behind a hammer and anvil.”

“Is that so? Well I suppose congratulations are in order on the successful transition of skill to our guild. Do you enjoy the work more comparative to your previous emplo-”

“Absolutely!” He blurted back before I had even had the chance to finish speaking. “Plenty o’ hooves in this Valley which need a fine band of iron nailed along their edge! The pay here is triple that of what I was making under Sir Hedge, the hours are far more tolerable, and the quality of th' steel that arrives here for smithing is exceedingly fine! Did I mention that it responds most beautifully to the hammer? I doubt I could have learned to smith suits of plate or riveted maille without such exquisite metal and expert assistance, even if it is an entirely different world than the mere forging of horseshoes. But! Smith Istavan has even begun to finally train me in the holy art of weapon smithing! I have crafted a few serviceable dirks in my time, if out of boredom and curiosity…yet those were essays in foalsplay compared to the blades you Witchers use. My wish is to gain my Journeymare’s papers from Mahakam before the decade is out, and to have my qualifying Masterpiece be one of your esteemed silver swords if I am able. I would be blessed to present any School's weapon to their rightful master so there is no favoritism being allowed to fester within me.”

“Well I encourage you by all the Powers that be to pursue that goal! Silver swords are tricky blades to fashion from what I have both seen, heard, and read about, even with a proper set of diagrams. I am pleased to hear your transition to Kaer Solaris has been such an uplifting experience for you. Have you had much in the way of this new training under Istavan?”

“Only a few months sadly, yet it has been the most illuminating and invigorating experience of my life. None can work steel like a Pygmy Mastersmith! Save perhaps the Völundr of the Örn or the Tuath Dé Dàn of the Thestrals…yet I don't see either of their peoples deigning to visit us as of late. Ah well, perhaps one day…”

“It is interesting you should mention the Tuath Dé Dàn as I had the pleasure of meeting one of their number just prior to the Cleansing. A most fascinating, if cold and distant, expert in her field, I must say.”

“No bleedin’ way! How'd you even get into the Everfree? That place has grown downright dangerous

“Simple, I am a very pure-blooded Lowland Valkyrie. Given my kind descends from theirs, and I nor my family had any mar as would blemish our reputation in their eyes, they were willing to grant me passage into Tirannwn. I was only permitted to travel to Caer Alarc’h, the School of the Swan, and my escorts would not allow even the smallest deviation from our assigned path. And in the end, I was only amongst their number for a mere month or so before the Cleansing occurred. Soon as it occurred…they dismissed me from their School and escorted me to the edge of the Forest without another word. I have not been invited back into their territory since then in order to finish my studies under the Swans.”

“What an opportunity!” Another at the table exclaimed excitedly. “What are the Thestral lands like?”

“Well, their woods have always had a darker inclination due to their worship of the Moon, but they have most certainly changed for the worse since the Cleansing. I can assure you.” I sighed with a sad tone. “I was within the ecotone of the Forest only a few weeks hence and it has grown quite Dark and wild indeed since my last sojourn in Tirannwn. Whatever primeval energies permeate that woodland has since been tainted by the Abyss making large swaths of territory very dangerous to travel even on their grand roads. That excludes their major cities and towns of course, those have long been well-defended bastions of civilization amidst the Forest. The Thestrals have only held onto so much territory thanks to the magic in their woodland, otherwise they've hardly the population to patrol their lands and control anything outside of the largest settlements. Their warriors are some of the finest in the world, and their archers are second-to-none save for the School of the Raven, yet they have never been some numerous host and cannot be everywhere at once. There is no telling how many of their villages and smaller settlements have been abandoned to the whim of the Forest in favor of finding strength in numbers in the larger towns and cities.”

“Well…ain't that a depressing accounting…”

“I never said it would be an inspiring tale. Though to properly answer your question, I can tell you somewhat of the School of the Swan as that is the only Thestral habitation I have personally been to outside of those here in Scarlet Pines. Their architecture, their true architecture as produced in days of old, is…simply breathtaking. If any of you here have happened to see any of the tree dwellings of Scarlet Pines, then ye would be somewhat familiar with their style of lofty halls with organic curves and few sharp corners. Their love of their trees and their inherent connection to its wild magic allows them to shape root, leaf, and stem to their whims without a saw or axe necessary to mar the wood like any of us would. Their love of stone structures has certainly grown over the centuries and they have mastered the art of blending wood and stone into elaborate buildings adorned by many balconies and towers. Caer Alarc'h is one of the finest examples of their budding love of stone as, with extremely supervised assistance from the Pygmy, they formed the bulk of their fortress from beautiful white-silver marble imported from my own tribe who use that same stone for our own buildings. The walls take on the form of an elaborate six-pointed star with a great Redwood as its center. It was rapidly grown to full size through great effort on the part of all of the Thestral’s Arcane specialists who gave their assistance towards the building of the School. Great crystals sang pure with the Light of the Moon are hung on long silver chains from the lowest branches providing very bright silver light across most of the exterior of the School. Smaller crystals of a similar make, which light up what the Greatwood cannot, are similarly installed atop the spires on the towers at the tip of each arm of the walls. You would expect all of that light to be visible plain-as-day from any great distance, yet you would be greatly surprised. They have enshrouded that entire section of woodland in Féth Fíada, a thick veil of Arcane mist which obscures the School from sight save to they with crystal lanterns from the School itself which will show the correct path. It has such power so as to entirely make one not authorized to be there to wander aimlessly about the fog in a stupor, finding nothing until luck favors them and they escape its radius…or they wander until exhaustion takes them and they die. There is no telling how many bones litter the field surrounding the School, let alone the rest of the forest which encircles it. Oh yes…I cannot forget to mention the stunning thicket of trees which immediately surrounds the School walls. Imagine if you would one of the beautiful pine trees as found all along the foothills of the White Fangs, except entirely made of a living crystal of pale, icy blue which sings in the breeze and tinkles like a great mass of glass wind chimes. They would not sing in a manner you or I would, yet the wind caught them in such a way which produced a melody of tones that is at once angelic yet…unnatural and strange. Something simply too far beyond the ability of words to describe and shivers the spine and Soul in equal measure.”

“That all sounds…beautiful yet wholly terrifying.”

“The same could be said as much regarding the Thestrals themselves to be frank. They are a proud race and one of the oldest amongst the Eldar, beaten only by Direwolves and Kitsune…though nary a one of the latter has been seen in aeons.”

“I have a question, if you would humor me Master Witcher. I've always been told that the Everfree won't allow any but Thestrals to pass beneath its boughs. A great wall of vines and thorns sprouts up to bar the passage of any others attempting to enter into their realm and they are hardly the most friendly of people towards others even when caught outside their own borders. How did you gain passage into their lands?”

“Well, put simply, the Forest recognizes the power of blood through its intrinsic connection with the Thestrals who have raised large swaths of it from nut and acorn. I share that blood, if in a diluted manner as it is blended with Highland Valkyrie, yet the Forest seems more than capable of recognizing that and permits me to enter and walk about as if I were a Thestral myself. In years past, other Witchers have too managed to enter their Dominion to take on Contracts by their blessing, or even personally visited some of their innermost settlements, but that time has long since passed. In the last century or so, the Old Forest has become far from welcoming to even Thestrals and has garnered a general feeling of unease. The Abyss has hit their region hard since the Arrival and theirs was never a particularly populous people to begin with. Darkness beyond that of even the Forest’s natural state has seemingly taken hold of the Wild Magicks which made their woodland so grand and lively. By the time of my short stay with them, they had already lost large swaths of territory to Abyssal incursion. Their patrols were becoming more regularly attacked by monsters and friendly paths were becoming dangerously wild and horridly overgrown.”

“And their Witchers aren't doing anything about it? That seems rather pathetic seeing how much chest-thumping they perform about how great their species is…”

“I would not be one to know I'm afraid…aside from those few Swans present with us here in Kaer Solaris, I have not met a single other member of that School since the Cleansing. I would hardly assume that Caer Alarc'h is now derelict and defunct…though I would be willing to bet a heavy purse that the institution has been commandeered by the Tetrarchy and the House of Lords to ‘serve the needs of the people'.”

“Like what happened to the Lions?”

“Manticores actually, the Lions are still at odds with the Grand Vizier after his attempt to do the same a century and some past. The general population of the Golden Dynasty isn't much fonder of them either after that mad monk’s ramblings were adopted into the local belief system. But yes, something similar to that at least in spirit. Leading Thestral leadership was eying the School of the Swan even before I arrived there and that same member of the Tuath Dé Dàn was present at the School for the very purpose of petitioning their Archmaster to allow members of that order to work as their exclusive smiths. Given that order exclusively also serves the Royal Lineage…they were to be naught but spies and political advocates pushing an agenda of hegemony. Exceedingly talented spies and advocates, but spies and advocates all the same. I was dismissed from the School before I had a chance to get my bearings with Thestral politics but I would hazard a guess that the integration would inevitably be successful as many Swans I spoke with were rather…nationalistic and overly proud of their lofty heritage.”

“So a benevolent coup?”

“Well, perhaps not so much a coup as it was a simple hostile takeover, but yes. Something akin to that I suppose when laid out plainly. With the Thestrals facing the dilemmas they do, I can understand why they would like to use their greatest warriors in their own defense. The School of the Swan only accepted blooded warriors with no less than a century of experience clad in scale and plate serving amidst the boughs, and so theirs are some of the highest quality of Witcher to be found on the Continent. Their skill with a bow can cleave the wings from off a fly at three-hundred meters on the darkest of nights, while their sabers carve out a dry patch in the pouring rain. Their best even go beyond the need of physical arrows in their quivers as their crystalline bows produce ethereal arrows of Moonlight whenever their string is fully drawn back.”

“I was actually going to ask after their fancy crystals.” The buck replied with a hearty laugh tinged with genuine interest in the question. “I witnessed Grandmaster Iryllith practicing with her crystal saber atop the battlements just the other day and I have always felt dazzled by such a thing. I would never have considered such a material as capable of being shaped into functional weaponry that doesn't snap on contact with armor. Is it true they sing it into shape?”

“They do indeed!” I replied with a smile of pride despite my species mostly lacking the talent of our progenitors. “Although, in truth, it is a truly ancient practice of theirs which has been slowly lost over the millennia as their skill with metals and exceedingly enchanted hardwoods has bloomed and expanded through their reluctant contact with other Eldar species, particularly the Pygmy. It is said in their earliest days they had the power to shape all manner of crystalline structures and their great capital of Prifddinas is supposed to be their greatest work in that regard. From what I was told by other Swans, even its simplest, outermost defensive works are formed of pure, unyielding crystals of many colors whilst the rest of the city itself is a glorious, harmonious blend of crystal, stone, and wood. The power of those ancient crystals is said to even affect the flora and fauna of the city causing crystalline growths to naturally form upon them in such a way as to not impede their daily life. I have also read that the Thestrals once could form grand halls and towers of the purest white stone like unto polished marble formed from mere grains of pure, clear silica. By the misfortune of time, none who wield such power over crystal still yet remain in their midst and Prifddinas is said to be their greatest masterpiece as can never be fashioned nor replicated ever again. Within the last millennium or so, their power has diminished until it can only be truly worked on a particular type of crystal known simply as Glainne, ones brought to our world in the midst of small meteors from the Cosmos that exude enough Lunar energy for their magic to affect their shape and structure. They are far rarer than any stone mined from the earth of course, but they are in enough abundance for them to make rather extensive use of their power across the span of their culture.”

“What a true shame they lost such a fascinating gift…” The Wolfess replied softly. “Or...at least the majority of said gift. Did you ever get the chance to witness any of these special crystals being sung into shape while you were there?”

“None from an unformed Glainne Dearcán, a true crystal seed.” I admitted with some sadness. “I only witnessed a pre-formed crystal longbow be sung back into shape and full power during my sojourn in their midst. Like how we utilize gemstones as repositories for magical energy, their crystal weapons and armor all store gargantuan amounts of energy which they use to power their weapons and armor defensive or offensive capabilities, as well as enchant their Arcane powers in combat. Over time these items will degrade with use until they eventually revert back into a seed form and will need to be entirely reformed by a professional Filí. For items which only need a metaphorical wax-and-polish, there is a unique device they would utilize which would replicate some of the divine harmonies the Fìlidh caste can sing to wield their magic. It is a sort of large, shallow dish made of the purest Glainne which they whet and rub their hooves along the rim in a precise manner so as to resonate the crystal and elicit sharp, vibrant tones of ethereal pitch and volume. Those sounds…they pierce the ears, yet tenderly caresses them…as it does the Soul whilst hearing those divine notes. There is something rather…religious about the practice, even if the species at large are rather ambivalent towards the broad concept of Divine worship and devotion. It was but a brief experience, yet I am still able to feel the echoes of the harmonies played that night. Something in my blood harkens unto it, like a call to action from another age.”

“Fascinating…” Was the general murmur from my spellbound audience as I made a unfairly short recounting of my experiences amongst those enigmatic Eldar.

Though I felt my knowledge of my far-distant relatives was rather sparse and uneducated, I found myself continually surprised at how little everyone else seemingly knew about Thestrals. Theirs had always been a closed society, even throughout the Age of the Moon. Even at the absolute peak of the Witcher's Golden Age where the most open cooperation between species occurred…their borders remained all-but-closed with all trade being restricted to a scattering of walled towns ringing the edge of the Forest. Fully mutated and graduated Swans would wander the Path beyond the leafy shade of their homeland, yet they almost always kept to their own and prioritized defending what minor Thestral clans which existed as isolated enclaves deep within other's territory; usually Equestrian due to their rapid expansion. They would still rise to defend the innocent as the Code demands, thank the Gods, yet they would most certainly be reluctant to assist any outside their own species. In days of old, they may have even deigned to extend that blanket protection to my kind as well…but even that generosity had faded into memory not long after my own birth. Most beings, Eldar or no, would go their entire lives never meeting a Thestral in person. The lucky ones might catch a glimpse of one of their surviving artifacts and the wealthiest might even be able to afford to hold one captive in their own personal collection…but for all others but Thestrals themselves, they were mostly an enigma.

The conversation with my gracious hosts would likely have been allowed to continue as their curiosity persisted, were it not for the sudden ringing of a bell hung from a bracket in the corner of the ceiling. Immediately, the conversation broke as their lunch period was called to a close and time spent asking questions was hastily supplemented by ravenous devouring of what remained on their plates lest they go hungry whilst returning to their various duties. Many a thanks did I receive as they each departed the little dining room, all seemingly quite satisfied with what they had learned of Thestrals and their mysterious ways beneath the boughs. I was somewhat disappointed in their departure in all truth as, while I had a destination in mind, I always found an eager audience with eager questions nigh-on irresistible to pass up. As the last of them took their courteous leave, I was left alone at the table with a new notion creeping into my mind as I ruminated on the conversation we had just participated in together. A notion which was only further reinforced by my Guardian projecting the image of a teacher's lectern in my mind's eye and all the implications which were entailed.

“I would scarcely go that far…” I muttered to her with a shake of my head. “Answering questions from genuinely interested parties is not the same as becoming an Instructor like Razorbeak or Paladin Thistle…”

Her response was that of a feeling of mild rebuttal, followed by a smattering of images. Bjørn and Atalis, Brynhild and Valencia, Razorbeak and Ashandra. Not Instructors as I had originally thought she meant, but Mentors. Mentors who needed only fuss over one singular pupil rather than an entire classroom's worth of students for decades unending. It was clear Ludovic had swayed her opinion for what it was worth. Which…was by extension my own subconscious decisions speaking aloud back at me, using her as its instrument of quiet instruction and advice.

“You cannot be serious…” I grumbled aloud to myself whilst moodily stabbing at my meal with a fork. “And who in the Hel is even worth that level of commitment? Unless you know something or someone I do not, we lack even a short-list of candidates just like we lack the time to parse the Bastion of its Novices.”

When an equally moody silence was my only answer, I replied, “Exactly… You know that I am at least somewhat open to the idea, but it has to be the right pupil. Someone we can invest ourselves into to the degree they require in order to survive their first year beyond our care. And…all those which will hopefully follow thereafter.”

With subdued agreement, she fell back into silence as I hastily devoured what remained of my meal; picking individual fish bones from between my teeth as I went. The fish and vegetables were beautifully spiced, if a bit dry, yet the sensory experience was a dull afterthought amidst the swirling pool of thoughts which filled my mind in the wake of her prodding. In truth, the idea of Mentorship continued to possess many allures for myself personally as I did indeed gain a deep sense of satisfaction from the cheerful instruction of others. There were few feelings which could equal that of seeing the dots connect behind their eyes as bright minds were further illuminated by the light of new knowledge. Knowledge which I personally had passed on to them in such a manner as to speed them along through the failures I had made myself when in their place. It was almost too tempting to bring to mind the other perks enjoyed by Mentors, as well as the stipend and debt assistance offered by Ludovic personally. I could scarcely hide the true reason as to why I pursued the Path as diligently as I did…as it kept my mind continually occupied by physical activity which prevented such convoluted paths of thought from occurring. I enjoyed the simplicity the Witcher's life offered as there was always the next town or village on the road ahead to turn my attention and thoughts towards. When offered the chance to sit and ruminate for long stretches of time, as I had engaged in more than once since returning home, I was forced to confront those thoughts I had previously been able to ignore. These moments typically offered chances to learn more of myself, my choices and my desires, yet they were typically not the most pleasant of experiences. Perhaps that went to show the level of discipline and…self-awareness our Instructors possessed as to endure decade after decade of inactivity upon the Path in favor of teaching the next generations of Witchers, Witchlings and Acolytes. Surely they had fully come to terms with themselves and their own feelings, yes…? It was likely wise to bend one of their ears towards the question sooner rather than later, but the true question however lay in whom I would choose to bother with such an inquiry. And with what time? At present, I lacked such a commodity in spades with so much pressing down upon me so unexpectedly.

With my hunger (mostly) satiated by my simple meal of noonday leftovers, I felt compelled to continue on with my intended itinerary and stood up from the simple wooden chair whilst gathering up my dishware. The boney remains of the fish were then cast into the sizable wheelbarrow full of other half-eaten foodstuffs as compost-to-be. All of it was destined to fertilize the soil of the School for our crops and landscaping, with any leftover sent to assist the rest of the Valley and their own gardens and farms over the coming months. Once my used platter and utensils were passed into the waiting hooves of one of the scullery maids still washing away the remnants of the noonday meal, I was allowed to finally depart towards the Baths. The lift in the Servant's Tower served my needs perfectly as it descended through the southern face of the Holy Mount and came to a gentle stop halfway down to the Servant's Courtyard. Here, I disembarked into a middling hall beset on all three walls by stone archways leading towards different sections of the underground passages beneath the School. To the west, the path meandered until it reached the Infirmary and its gentle beds while northwards lay the mess of stairs and multi-leveled stone rooms which formed the secondary Barracks and extra bedchambers for Masters and Mentors. My path took me through the third and easternmost passage which itself bridged the distance to the path branching off from the stairway down to the Laboratorium, the air turning noticeably humid and warmer the closer I approached. Before long, the large carved double doors guarding the entrance to the Baths appeared from around a bend in the decoratively painted passage and my fog of mixed feelings immediately lightened, much to my relief.

The Hall of Pools was just as majestic as ever as I nudged one of the doors open and entered within it's warm, comfortable interior. Being in the second half of the School’s hours of operation, the number of occupants was much reduced from what it had been the previous day. Those that were still students were presently occupied with their classes and physical training leaving only those Adepts, Masters and Grandmasters to enjoy the Baths in relative peace and tranquility. Graciously, that also meant several of the padded massage tables were open and awaiting a paying customer, of whom I was more than eager to join their number. I knew not as to what Rosalia’s personal schedule of service was given all our talented masseurs and masseuse worked their own hours at their whim and pleasure. My fears were abated however once I spotted the familiar creamy pink feathers of my favorite Gryphonness, seemingly wiping down the moisture on the waxed leather of her padded table from its previous sodden occupant with a dry towel. Dressed in the white-and-red robes of the School staff, most of her gorgeous plumage was hidden from sight, yet she had joined me in the Pools on more than one occasion, allowing me blessed views of her in her native form. Even at something so clandestine as cleaning her own workstation, she always found ways to catch my wandering eyes with her natural beauty and endearing charm. Though she was that way with every customer in the interests of her own income, I had the feeling (and the hope) that I caught her eye in turn. Before any others present had the chance to steal her talented talons away from me, I swooped in to mark my place in line with as much speed as I felt safe for a damp stone floor.

“Rose!” I sang softly with a tiny shiver of glee rippling through my voice as I called out to her from behind. “Rosalia Rosefeather!”

“Is that…?” She sang back softly in reply as she glanced over her shoulder from her work, only to excitedly spin around to face me fully. “Frejdá! My favorite little Lowland mare!”

Though she was scarcely taller than I, I was in no position to deny her the enticing right to address me as ‘little mare’. If anything…she was welcome to say it and much more anytime her beautiful heart so desired and it took great effort not to swoon into her strong arms. Rosalia was rather bright and exotic in coloration compared to her Gryphon contemporaries in the Valley like Razorbeak or Grym who sported the more typical brown and tan plumage one would find amongst their kind. Instead, she took after what she had described as a ‘Galah’, a species of Feral bird native to the unknown, reportedly arid regions farther south than Darkmire or even the wild jungles of the Kobolds. Rather, she sported creamy, rosy pink feathers across her neck, breast and along her wing bones whilst her flight feathers and lower half were a soft, ashy grey that was gentle and contrasted with her pink feathers in an unusual, but visually pleasing, manner. Meanwhile, her long headfeathers took on a much paler shade of pearly pink and fell over half her face, typically the left, hiding only one of her dazzlingly blue eyes from sight. Her dexterous talons which I so adored (and craved) were a fine yellow like unto most other Gryphons and sported a gleam and gentle taper which bespoke her skill behind a set of files and polishing stones; a skill she likewise offered as a professional service for an extra fee and only to clients she personally liked. Indeed, she was not only restricted to working her artistry upon talons alone and was equally as capable at weaving some magic upon hooves and claws alike with her diverse arsenal of finely-crafted tools and scented oils.

“Gods it is so very good to see you again, Rosalia.” I replied while indulging myself a mighty snug embrace and getting a strong whiff of the fruity salve she used as perfume which could outlast extended exposure to moisture like she regularly experienced.

“The year's barely run half its course and already I find you crawling back to my altar of comfort for more!” She crooned with a sultry but very playful wink from her only visible eye as we pulled apart from one another.

“Oh please, spare me the teasing.” I smiled shyly back at her, knowing full-well she knew why I had returned. “The Fallen should be returned home as soon as they are found and I was only fulfilling my role in that obligation.”

“I know my dear, and I applaud you for returning their remains home so quickly. I was merely teasing you for the sake of seeing you smile like that. Not all who possess fangs in their mouths are quite so able to flash a smile which comes across as friendly and non-threatening.”

“Non-threatening…?” I asked slowly in case she was yet again leading me into another tease of hers. “I have told you of the time I actually had to use them, yes?”

“Heh, yes you have darling. And yet for having torn open someone's jugular vein and tasted of their very blood, you do not possess the smile of one I would assume capable of such a feat. Unlike, by sheer example, one such as Master Irdvin whom I attended to earlier today who seemed in quite the solemn mood. Please do not misunderstand me, I know he is a fine and noble Witcher as any other which roams this School. I am merely saying…his is a smile which triggers whatever primal instincts reside within me which correspond to the feeling of predation…if you understand my meaning.”

“Unfortunately, yes…” I agreed quietly as I thought over other predator species who retained the sharp teeth of their progenitors like Dragons. “But, none of us can help what we are. The only control we are allowed is what sort of person we embrace as our own as we age and mature. Graciously he and many others have made peace with those instincts in their youth and have refined themselves with civility.”

“Too true indeed! Now, I take it you are here for your usual course of treatment? Unless of course you are merely here for some decidedly pleasant conversation?”

“Am I so obvious? Yes, I would absolutely love if you would so indulge me. If you are able to of course.”

“You are not so lucky as of now I'm afraid…” She frowned softly as her gaze drew my own towards an approaching customer clad in one of the complimentary white bathrobes provided in the changing rooms. “Yet, I am free after he is finished! You are more than welcome to soak and relax while you wait, the Soapers brought in a simply divine set of pear-and-mint scented bars for our use earlier this morning and they have proven very popular thus far.”

“Pear-and-mint you say…? Hm…well, there are far worse ways to kill time around here. Very well, when should I return?”

“Witcher Rye here has paid for a thirty-minute session so you won't be waiting too long my dear.”

“A-actually, I…uh…brought with me payment for a further fifteen minutes…” The dark brown Unicorn stammered sheepishly as he levitated a small purse of coins out from under his bathrobe. “If that is permissible…?”

She glanced my direction to which I shrugged in defeat as I was not about to rob her of more income, even if I planned on leaving her with a healthy gratuity seeing as I could comfortably afford it. At my shrug, she nodded towards Rye with a smile and gestured with her talons towards her freshly-prepared massage table; his small purse of coins being graciously snatched up and deposited in a small, movable lockbox resting in a nook of her table of tools, lotions and oils. With her prompting, he inclined his head respectfully in my direction in deference to my rank before disrobing and clambering onto his belly upon the padded table. While he did so, and while she was already accessing her lockbox, I decided it was smart to pay her in advance for my session and passed over the money I had prepared for the occasion. At two Orens and a half for thirty minutes of her time, she truly valued her skills highly and charged well for her time. Yet it was hardly a price given without reason as the raw talent she possessed was one few others here had seemingly mastered like she had. Hooves were excellent at working broad areas of muscle, yet talons were nimble enough to feel out individual knots and access all problem areas with extreme precision and dexterity. I personally wished she would dare to tease me under the tail a bit with those talented talons…yet the rules of the Baths were set in stone and slipping them inside me was sadly never going to fly. We had been plenty playful and flirtatious with one another from her first day amongst us fresh from the Zephyr Kingdom of the Gryphons in search of new opportunities to be useful. And yet…I felt cowed and submissive in her presence, too scared to speak my fullest intent, much as I had with almost all of my other friendly flings I had about the School and Valley. I could lust until the floor beneath me was wet with my arousal, and yet for all my Witcher's stoicism…I would never be able to bring myself to admit such a thing to their face. Indeed…such a fact proved endlessly amusing to Petra who had been the one to initiate our private little relationship once she had caught me staring at her longer than a typical patron would. I was blessed that she had the strength-of-will necessary to call me out for it and grace me with such an erotic first kiss across the bartop after a long night of Mother's Lacquer and drunken words.

I was rather fortunate to be wearing my gambeson as it hid my growing arousal between my thighs as I thought over the pleasurable company I kept in the Valley. Even then, little could be done to hide the flush of red hitting my dark grey cheeks which only amplified the rosy color. Despite my haste to flee the area in order to distract my thoughts and body, I could see Rosalia smirking my direction whilst hunched over her client's back working her magic into his neck and shoulders. Her smirking visage felt burnt into the back of my eyes as I continued to flee in the direction of the changing rooms at the far end of the Hall, haunting me with enticing thoughts best suited for the comfort and privacy of my own room. Unfortunately, I was far from those secure, private confines and my bizarre self-consciousness regarding my sex life made it difficult to be so open with it like others seemingly could be. It was no closeted secret that the lot of us were inescapably horny from the Changes as such hormones as estrogen and testosterone were powerhouses in their own rights in keeping our bodies in the peak of physical readiness, at the cost of complete sterility. Indeed, as a result of our profession and the Witcher Trials, all of us sported exceedingly fine physiques and physical stamina which seemed to endlessly entice others into seeking us out for a night of pleasure and personal company. As such, it was hardly an uncommon sight to see stallions and mares alike comparing their muscle mass against one another and essentially flaunting their bodies for others to see in the midst of their little competition. Perhaps I was merely too old-fashioned to feel as free with myself as the younger Witchers could, but I rarely found myself openly flaunting my body like they as an enticing invitation to potential partners. If Petra was any indication…I remained a timid filly gripped by embarrassment and fear when the topic of carnal desires arose. And to my continual shame, oft necessitated my person of interest to initiate whatever was to follow. I would have much rather faced the whole of Darkmire naked with a rusty spoon than admit aloud to any of my lustful thoughts and feelings for any of those I had ever taken to bed and especially those I had not… My thoughts were now a muddled, carnal mess which had lead my body on instinct alone towards my destination entirely without my active participation. By the time my mind truly returned to focus on the world around me, I had already entered into the cozy, colorful confines of the changing rooms which was mostly devoid of occupants. Even in spite of my isolation though, I tugged the hem of my gambeson lower and tucked my tail under myself out of sheer embarrassment.

After a quick trip to the latrine stalls in a separate back chamber to the changing rooms, the quick moment had granted me enough reprieve to feel like my queint was not swollen and dripping for all to see. Even as I disrobed I knew that would hardly be the first time it had occurred as being in the nude allowed any to view any other with almost complete lack of restraint and, like mine, thoughts everywhere are known to wander. In an effort to curb anything further from festering within my lustful heart, I took to returning my mind back towards the topic of Violet and the unofficial Contract she and I had formed. Of course, as soon as it was brought back to mind, along with it came those tense feelings of anxiety, trepidation and general uncomfortable sensations which sent my heart racing just that little bit faster in my breast. The same questions as before came to the fore as I stowed away my weapons and harness atop my neatly-folded gambeson in an empty cubby; how, where, when, and above all, why. I was a fool to agree to such a measure, there was no doubt to be cast upon such a fact and I could feel the weight of my Mentor’s memory upon my conscience as I returned to more overthinking the situation far more than was needed. Surely he wouldn't ever dare to give such an operation his blessing or approval, no matter how vile the Sentient target in question. Indeed, several Cats had fallen to his blade in the defense of those prominent individuals as warranted a Witcher on their personal council to whom he had been called to serve across the course of his lengthy career. Of all the personal sins his employers might have indulged in, they almost never breached the legal requisites to allow a Witcher's judicial involvement and so he left their crimes to the appropriate authorities. To take the law into my own hooves, even on Violet's behalf, was simply untenable by his standards. If anything, doing it on her behalf could be seen as even worse as, having no personal stake in the matter, I was no better than a killer-for-hire. And yet…that was precisely what each and every Witcher was by broad definition. The only true difference between us and any mercenary or assassin lay in our quarry of choice. It was not our place to blur those lines…it was too easy to continue making exceptions. I was still resolved to honor my word…but I was in such a state of inner turmoil that I was in need of counsel from one I had grown to trust. I would have to word myself carefully…yet I could not help but crave the opinions of those I trusted. I simply needed more validation towards any of the arguments for and against it all...and I did not feel up to the trip back up to pester Petra for her opinion quite yet. Not after all I had gone to just to get down to the Baths...

Graciously, I found enough willpower to emerge from out of my murky thoughts and seal my cubby shut with a barrier spell before collecting several towels and departing back out into the Baths proper. With so few patrons present, even hushed conversations audibly echoed somewhat throughout the Hall ensuring the space didn't feel wholly abandoned and bereft of life. All the same, there were a great many open places to slip into the water and relax to the heart's content whilst even the steam room atop the center of the Hall seemed decidedly less lively than I was used to hearing it meaning I had ample opportunity to indulge in whatever amenity I chose. Even as I slipped over the trough-lined ring into the second-hottest Pool, I was once more brought to a remembrance of Ludovic’s earnest offer of Mentorship. Compiled with my Guardian's outspoken opinion on the matter, I found the true beginnings of a reluctant acceptance of the inevitable started to form within myself; the near-scalding water being just enough to finally subdue my racing thoughts, if for short a time. Comfort then became the name of the hour at last as I sat back against the rim of the Pool, my aging body nestled safely in the shallow indentation using one of my towels as padding against the stone headrest. Though the temperature of the water was tremendously hot, I grew quickly used to it as my body adjusted itself to the heat allowing it to almost immediately begin to sink its warm power deep into my muscles, joints and thoughts. In particular, I was most after it sinking its wondrously heated fangs deep within the muscles of my neck and shoulder which had yet to find relief from the awkward sleeping position of my impromptu early morning nap. Once properly settled in and reclined back as much as the design of the stone rim would allow, I closed my eyes, let my limbs float aimlessly by my sides and did my best to achieve the state of calm placidity necessary for proper meditation.

Through the carefully prescribed set of breathing techniques, accompanied by the soothing, deeply-penetrating heat of the water enveloping my body from the chin down, the windmill of constant thoughts slowly came towards standstill. Those feelings of worry, anxiety and my bout of lust from earlier all sat along the fringes of my growing sea of calm awaiting their time to rush forth and engage in battle…yet that was the point of the practice. To ignore all else for the sake of blank-slate enlightenment save those things which simply could not be so easily quelled through meditation. Graciously…my qualms with Violet's request were not as pressing on my mind as I had expected them to become once I attempted to purge myself of all thought, even if it were for a short time. Instead, I was rather met with a comfortable silence for as long as I fought not to think, which remained a difficult task for me to accomplish just as it had upon my opening weeks as a Novice Viper. Always there existed something which could be pondered upon in the privacy of my own mind, a subject by which my boredom might be kept at bay by a suitably interesting distraction. Indeed, finding the sense of inner-peace which proper mediation required was a prospect most difficult for me as I could not stand the silence which accompanied it. Even prior to my senses becoming exceedingly attuned, I could not stand pure silence as it only made the thoughts within my own mind louder and far harder to ignore. It took little prompting some days for particularly dark thoughts to swirl about...and the best solution I had found was to continually distract myself. Whether that was through exercise, reading, Hunting, sleep, conversation, or just simple, good old-fashioned forcing myself to think otherwise, I was in a consistent state of war with the recesses of my own mind. My only true solace was to constantly stay one step ahead of my own worry.

I was…admittedly addicted to the intake and mental processing of information so as to silence the silence as it were. Smothering it even under a mountain of intriguing details to keep the windmill of thought turning, grinding broad thoughts into finely-milled opinions to be baked into my memory as veritable food-for-thought. To starve myself of that process, even for a short time, was endlessly difficult and infuriating…and yet I had been raised better than to always give into my wants when there were needs to be addressed and satisfied first. Just like with all the hours of my life devoted to classwork and endless tomes and scrolls, there was a point to everything we were trained to do. Even the most dull of moments had fulfilled their purpose as patience through aggravating circumstances was a life skill every Witcher needed in great abundance. Novices, and even Witchlings and Acolytes, would ever be eternally surprised by the number of hours they might end up having to wait for something to happen whilst actively on a Hunt. I knew of myself that I most certainly was very surprised and ever more irritated once the realization kicked in that the Witcher's life was not always going to be one of constant action. In fact, there was always a likelihood of needing to sit and wait until a monster or Daemon returned to their Nest if discovered unoccupied during the course of an investigation. You could be so unlucky as to happen upon something of the sort mere hours after its occupant had risen from its slumber to roam its territory. Of course, most species would naturally leave a notable trail in their wake allowing our skills in tracking to shine, yet it was highly situational if such a thing was applicable to any given Hunt. Attacking one's target in the open usually allowed them the same level of maneuverability to escape and evade as it provided us to attack and intercept. As swift as we could be, there were well over a couple dozen species of theirs who could outrun and out-evade us across multiple different kinds of terrain.

Indeed, such a diversity in our Bestiary necessitated the diversity between our Schools as, while every Witcher could conceivably handle most any Hunts out there, some were simply better suited for some Hunts over others. Taking the School of the Griffin as an example, with their acceptance standards permitting only winged species entry into their ranks, their best quarry was by-far other winged beasts as might entirely evade an earth-bound Lowland like myself. Harpies, Sirens, Plumards, Greater Fleders, Kalphites, Killerwatts, Rocs, Yarasa, Feral Griffins, Feral Dragons, any number of Draconid-category monsters, or the enigmatic Aviansie… There were a great many species in the Bestiary which could simply flap their wings and escape the reach of my silver sword, yet not that of a fully-trained graduate of the School of the Griffin. They would flee into the sky, only to find that another set of wings had joined them in the air from behind as the Hunt would resume again in earnest as the Witcher gave feverous pursuit; their silver sword flashing in the sky along with the glow of their expansive arsenal of Signs. It was a rather beautiful thing to me in all honesty, to know that for most any situation, somewhere there was a School that was especially talented in countering it and solving the problem.

Another fine example, and keeping within an avian theme, was the School of the Owl far to the east of the Continent set amidst a cluster of Isles much like the Örn’s. Though the School itself had withdrawn mostly from the public eye since even before the Cleansing, I had been fortunate enough to witness some of their Arcane might for myself. Just as Witchers would face monsters which could fly, so too would we encounter beasts of a magical origin who could command forces beyond most folk’s ability to understand, let alone defend against. While weapons and armor which were heavily imbued with precious Dimeritium were uncommon amongst the other Schools, save perhaps the elite equipment of a Grandmaster, Owl Witchers almost exclusively relied on the rare blueish-green metal for much of their works. Such was their extensive and routine exposure to it (as well as their targeted mutations) that they gained a unique resistance to its destabilizing effects, which allowed them to cast their exceedingly diverse list of Signs virtually unimpeded. At the same time, their safety was all but guaranteed from outside dangers of an Arcane nature as spells from others could simply not be cast in their immediate presence and dangers cast at them from range would dissipate like the morning wind upon nearing their position. Their skill with spellcraft was such that they could even perform intermediate works of magic as could qualify them for a middling degree from Tír Ná Liá were they to apply themselves outside the confines of Witcherhood. Most uniquely perhaps were the curious artifices which functioned at once as a Catalyst for casting magic like unto a Sorcerer’s staff, as well as a heavy-bladed silver rapier beset by many enchanted gemstones. Thus armed and armored, they would wander the Path in search of Arcane threats by which to challenge themselves, of which there were many for them to seek out and subdue. The hypnotic third-eyes of Fiends held no sway, Djinns would tremble to cross them, and even the accursed spells of an Inferni were unable to pierce their armor, all the while their unique Catalyst swords could pierce through that which otherwise could not be touched by the mortal realm. Indeed, even beings of an intensely spiritual nature found themselves at the whim and mercy of a Master Owl who had exploited every single last one of their known weaknesses. With the intense Arcane power inherent in the Abyss and all it touches, the absence of their presence on the Continent, outside of Grandmaster Vísdómir and his Apprentice, made for a sorry lack of Witchers fully prepared to face the enormous breadth of power the Abyss could wield. Not only the Abyss, but any beast or being, Feral or Sentient, which could manipulate any known form of magic. All we Witchers were trained to handle the same kinds of monsters and Daemons as they, yet they remained undoubtedly the very best trained and equipped of our guild to Hunt and slay such creatures.

Grandmaster Vísdómir had granted Kaer Solaris some of the many secrets of his School, yet most we knew were meant for he and his Apprentice alone. It was not out of some selfish reason that he did so, but rather it was simply because no other Witcher could perform the Signs and spells which they cast. The information existed within the Grand Library alongside other tomes of similar importance and power, and still none had yet been able to cast the spells contained therein. The connection to the Arcane fostered within Witchlings and Witchers who previously lacked one was a tenuous one at best. The world around us was always brimming with unseen Power which only needed to be channeled through our bodies via the prescribed set of Witcher Signs we were all taught from our earliest days. Nexia, highly-energized locations wherein invisible ley lines of Arcane energy converged, could grant a significant boost to a Witcher's casting ability for as long as they remained in its vicinity and even for a short time after leaving its presence. Yet in all reality, the amount of Power necessary to channel and cast such simple utility spells as we used was truly negligible compared to the unexpectedly high amount of energy, knowledge, skill, and focus required to cast even the most basic of true spellcraft as would be found in Arcane Universities. With the ability for telekinesis being universal amongst the School-based mutagens used in the Trial of the Grasses, our power over magic was typically rather rudimentary. Of course, the same could not quite be said for those species who underwent the Changes already in the possession of Arcane abilities. The amateur muffling charm Violet had so rudely asked me to cast was about the full-extent of my expanded capabilities with magic outside of the usual Signs. For being of pure Lowland stock, and the daughter of a talented Fáith to boot, I was a pitiful example of the rather exemplary power over the Arcane my species possessed. Those of my kind who were truly talented in the craft were even accepted to some Thestral institutions such as Ban Ard, with some even being bestowed the illustrious title of Sorcerer or Sorceress with a similar level of respect to what their Thestral compatriots enjoyed. Indeed, my greatest claim to glory in the field of magic was learning to pitifully cast a supplementary Sign born of the Örn and their chilly Isles, that of the Sign of Vetr. Summoning the power of ice, I was able to muster up a small torrent of frost from my hooves whilst Örn Masters like Bjørn were capable of flash-freezing entire clustered groups of enemies with but a single colossal cast.

With a sigh, I slowly opened my eyes to stare across the Baths without truly seeing anything but my own ineptitude. It was growing far too hard to concentrate on not concentrating when it came time to meditate. I had even forced myself through the prescribed methods to achieve the sense of calm they had emphasized so much towards each student of the guild…and yet I still slipped into meandering thoughts like an unproven Novice. To be contemplative and pensive was most becoming of a seasoned Master, yet as Masters were we not to set an example for those same Novices through our actions and not mere words alone? That included the daily rounds of meditation…something I had gotten exceedingly inconsistent with since my return to the Valley. Being home amongst those people and things I loved so much was seemingly enough stimulation to overcome self-discipline as I continued to indulge myself in frivolous thoughts and activities. There was my physical training to attend to, as well as several tomes in the Grand Library which needed re-reading in order to refresh my memory…and here I was soaking in the heat whilst my mind wandered wherever it would. If ever there was a sign that I needed to return to the Path quickly, it was how readily I had engaged in all these frivolous pursuits when there was work yet to be done. Even outside of the time necessary to formulate a plan of action for Violet's…request…there was the Path to follow immediately afterward and all the Hunts I could possibly encounter once back in the wildlands. And yet I remained soaking up the heat and wasting my own precious time. Regrettably, no clocks existed within the Baths by which I could tell how much time had passed since I had begun my soak. However, I was saved from needing to move even a single muscle to look back when a gorgeous, smiling pink visage peered over the top of my head and into view. Obviously she had finished with her last patron…and there I was, naked and sprawled out in the Baths for her to see. I was at once deeply aroused and absolutely terrified with embarrassment in the moment that there was surely no possible way she could not have noticed.

“Well, well…glad to see you will be radiating such heat of your own that no warming stones will be necessary.” She crooned with a teasing wink of her solitary visible blue eye. “Table is empty and wiped-down for your use and pleasure, my dear! Better come take your place in line before another is swifter at the cue and I cease being so kind as to alert you as to my availability.”

In truth, the forty-and-five minutes which had seemingly elapsed since my first sinking into the Pools had not felt nearly so long as that. Whether that was due to my own thoughts occupying my time so efficiently, or the heat and therapeutic values of the heated water itself, or likely a combination of the two, I was unsure. Ultimately however, my opportunity for true relaxation had finally come at last upon gorgeous wings of rosy pink and cloudy grey. Not being one to pass up on furthering my own wants when presented an opportune chance, I swiftly rolled myself over and began the process of extracting my person from the ensnaring allure of hot water on an achy body. Graciously, Rosalia took it upon herself to act as my towel mare and stood waiting for me to emerge from the water with her arms wide open and a thick towel dangling freely between them. The moment my body was free and under the assault of the cooler ambient air, she rushed forward to embrace and wrap the towel about me to begin the drying process. Needless to say however, I could scarcely prevent a sudden weakness strike my knees as I felt her comfortingly strong arms envelop me in thick, cotton warmth backed by the inner warmth of her blissful fur and feathers. Strength needed to be forced back into my body in order to swiftly recover from my veritable swoon into her arms, yet it was for naught as she had easily noticed how much of my own weight she needed to bear for a moment or two. I was truly blessed when all it did was seemingly amuse her as, while we were playfully flirtatious with one another, I had been absolutely too terrified to speak towards any further feelings or wants I might possess. She, on the other hoof, seemed happiest playing the part of the playful tease leaving my anxious thoughts to swirl back-and-forth between a belief in her attraction to me, and the despair of this just possibly being a mere pastime for her.

“My, my…how quaint.” She giggled softly as she gave me an extra-tight squeeze in her arms. “The noble Lowland warrior finds herself seemingly weakened in the arms of the School’s humble masseuse of decidedly avian origins… I am curious if such novels could be written and sold to regale an anxious crowd of readers.”

“H-hush!” I squeaked back softly whilst doing my best to avoid her gaze for the sake of my own burning cheeks. “There is n-naught wrong with such a thing, is there?”

"Hardly darling, I would buy such a curio for myself were it in print..." Came her amused reply.

Once her firm-but-gentle talons cupped my chin and ‘forced’ our eyes to lock, I…admittedly found my strength fleeting and my face utterly smouldering with the flushed heat of multiple emotions. Immediately her smile deepened and her eye sparkled with amusement and compassion whilst the strength of her arms doubled to compensate for my…momentary lapse in concentration. After a moment of squeezing me ever-so-tightly to her fragrant breast, she set me back upon my hooves and nodded towards her table before she began to lead the way ahead of me. My heart yearned desperately to feel her carry my weight over there while I continued to gaze up at her beautiful face, yet I understood that such a thing had probably not occurred to her as well. And in full truth, I was equal-parts terrified of the proposition as, while the Baths were rather barren compared to its usual number of occupants, there were still plenty of eyes to see for themselves my private intimacy. My terror of appearing intimate with others in public was something which had haunted me for literal centuries and possessed little foundation in rational thought. And yet, ever was I the timid little mare whenever such a thing happened to me. I was more than cognizant of my own willful ignorance on the matter as it was the one sense of fear my Witcher’s training seemed incapable of suppressing at will like I could when facing even a difficult Hunt. The matters of the heart were not concepts which entirely came naturally to me, even before the Changes took hold of my body. I knew what it was, was almost certain I knew what it felt like as opposed to mere lust…and yet I always felt bereft of strength and confidence when confronted with my own personal facts. I was head-over-hooves for several fine people who embodied aspects of the mortal experience I felt most enticing, namely providing me a sense of comfort and companionship which went beyond a mere brother or sister of the Hunt. I was hardly one to scoff at whatever gender or species they happened to be as it was the feelings which these exceptional individuals inspired in me whenever I had the pleasure of being in their presence. Though they were all special to me for being the wonderful people they were, each to their own incarnation of special and unique, those feelings they sparked within my breast were all of a similar nature. I sought out those who possessed the charm and gentle, endearing passion to grant my poor little heart a safe space to speak for itself without the usual fears, real or no, which plagued it. The utter bliss to be found in the soft, strong arms of Rosalia was utterly satisfying and gratifying to experience, just as the tantalizingly sensual kisses and nibbles of Petra, or the gentle, playful squeezes from Elvaarg and his gold-plated claws were simply magical in ways that went beyond words. These people were as close to stable romantic relations as a Witcher like myself might hope for, outside of finding a fellow Witcher whom I could devote myself to more fully than our usual lists of personal, friendly flings. And while I kept a watchful eye out for such a potential suitor as might benefit myself both personally as well as our duty to the Path…I was not without options in the Valley. I had simply yet to find it within myself to…‘settle down’ as it were. There were simply too many good people to love and be loved by for me to feel content with limiting myself to one person exclusively for the rest of my days, even if there was nothing in the Code which dictated such behavior one way or another.

Once we arrived at her workstation, she insisted that she and I attend to my still mostly-sodden fur prior to her laying a talon on any muscle groups. Her assistance whilst toweling me down was regrettably kept professional, yet the two playful nips of my ears from her wide, curved beak as she dried my hair sent all the signals I needed to feel content in the moment. More than that, my spine shivered most excitedly at each nip which elicited some hushed and deeply amused snickers as she continued to help. How I longed for a chance to catch her alone where we could be more forward with our thoughts...but she was ever the busybody. There was always another customer waiting in line just as I did to bask in the glory of her skilled talons and soft words. I had to wonder, even as she smiled kindly at me while we finished up, whether she were this openly intimate with her other patrons as the jealous side of myself could not stand to watch her work on others. Of course, there was nothing preventing her from engaging in the same promiscuity which gripped the School's tenants…yet I could not deny to myself that I desired to know just precisely where on her list of flirts she prized me in particular. It was tremendously selfish to dwell on such things…and yet it was a shortcoming of my own which had been in hot pursuit since my earliest years alive. In the most perfectly selfish world, all those who so caught my eye and heart as to draw me to bed would raise me up on a pedestal above the others they might possibly fool around with; a position which would hopefully ensure my anxious self-doubts on the matter would finally be hushed for good. Reality dictated such was not to be lest I happened upon truly Divine powers over seduction and attraction…and I made myself as content as I could be in those relationships I knew I did posses. I was an anxious wreck with each of them in spite of the comfort and safety they brought me… If anything, it was those same blessed feelings which brought about my anxiety as I feared their sudden loss. Or worse…some deep, unforeseen betrayal of personal trust between us which would only prove my selfish self-doubts true and horribly valid. I craved intimacy wherever I could obtain it from those sources in whom I had learned to trust that side of myself to…and in the end I was left in a continual spiral of enjoyment and anxiety whenever individuals like Rosalia were near. It was sometimes simply all I could do to reaffirm to myself that these people genuinely enjoyed me for my company as well as my body. It was not nearly as comforting as I would like…yet part of the process was trusting the other person to mean it when they promised they liked you and you are simply overthinking it all. Again…

“Annnnnd there!” She beamed once the last towel was removed and cast aside into a waiting basket of other used linens. “Might I say, you wear the color grey just as beautifully as I do my dear. If not better with such a dark shade of silver!”

As if it were not already obvious…but her commentary naturally set my face aflame once more with the heat of shy embarrassment. I relished every word of it…yet I was utterly convinced by anxiety alone that surely I was not so-deserving of such praise as hers. I wished desperately to feel that way, to feel free and open with my feelings like so many others around me could with absolute disregard for any self-conscious thoughts of inadequacy. I had literal centuries to come through grips with such things and the matured mare within me despised that same inner filly who cowered in embarrassment whenever affections were doled out in my name and direction. I wanted desperately to be anywhere else to spare myself having to answer at all...yet I had come this far just to see her. I had to trust my instincts, my true instincts, and above all...trust her to be gentle with me no matter the outcome just as she always did.

“O-oh please…” I managed to squeak back in reply as part of a lame attempt to feign modesty over exuberant shyness. “Your plumage beats out my ragged, old fur any day of the week you so choose! B-but I thank you nonetheless for your kind words, Rose. Truly.”

She gave a soft wink in reply and nodded with her beak towards the padded table for us to continue onwards. For all the flirts and mild intimacy we were engaged in, I had still paid her for a service and her time was indeed quite valuable and in regular demand. With such a humble prompting, I obliged her (and myself) by clambering up a side set of steps and onto her altar of comfort feeling more than ready to receive her ministrations. A set of headrests sat ready in a cupboard stowed within the lower frame of the table, each differently shaped as they were meant to suit a range of species so as to fully relax the head whilst laying facedown. Given I was still roughly Equine in nature like the stallion previously occupying it, no switch was necessary and I was able to collapse into a perfectly flat, thoroughly warmed-through sludge whilst the weight of my head was born atop the padded rest at my jaw. Immediately her wonderful talons set themselves upon my back, spread out wide as she dragged them across my upper and lower torso. The feeling was…simply immaculate as talons and claws were so much more dexterous and wandering than a set of hooves ever could hope to accomplish. The sensation of independent digits sliding through and parting my quasi-sodden fur was one I was willing to sacrifice almost anything to experience forevermore. Of course, her light playful pawing along the full length of my back and neck was not simply to tease me with lurid thoughts, but rather was her method of feeling out each individual muscle group with her expert touch. As such, she was able to scope out any and all problematic areas on her own without any need to inform her where the pain and tension was located as she would simply find it on her own anyway. My first session with her alone had proven to me her level of competency at her chosen art as a stubborn, persistent pain in my lower spine had been spotted and blessedly cured at her touch without even informing her where it hurt most. The process to fix any such issues was not always the most pleasant thing to experience in the moment, as she would regularly make use of her knuckles and narrow elbows in order to deeply penetrate her therapeutic healing into even the deepest of muscle cramps and crepitus of the joints and spine. Yet, the sense of relief which always followed her magic touch was a thing always truly well-worth the notable cost involved. To know there was something felt between us as well…it made whatever time I could afford to spend under her care as close to paradise as I could hope for, minus unending food and drink.

“So, I heard tale that the Shroud you brought home contained the remains of one of those Cat Witchers I have heard about. Is that true?” She asked after her talons had focused-in on the right side of my neck where the majority of my pain resided.

“A-ah! Y-yes, you h-heard right.” I gasped and grunted in reply as the blunted tips of her talons began to dig in and knead in slow circles. “His n-name is…a-ah! B-Braxia! O-one of t-the…owwww…F-First Born if you b-believe it.”

“Of course I believe you my dear, though I will admit I am not the most up-to-date on all the terminology you Witchers use even after all this time. I suppose that might make me out for a poor hostess to not be in the know regarding most of the gossip which occurs within these walls...yet I do honestly make an effort to stay informed.”

“Y-you’re fine R-Rosaliaaaa…” I groaned back in reply after a sharp jolt from her palms cracked several achy vertebra in my neck which I had failed to pop myself. “J-just look at the w-walls to s-see who the F-First Born were for t-they are…mmmmmmeverywhere for you t-to s-see…”

“Is that right? Fascinating…that explains a bit. Tsk, tsk…” She hummed almost to herself as she continued her campaign against my neck and shoulder. “Dear Cumulus, did you sleep in your armor using your own shoulder as a pillow again?”

“Y-yes…” Was all I was able to grunt back in reply as she began an intense assault upon the crook in my neck where the bulk of the pain originated from. “S-standard s-s-sleeping position when i-in a nnnn… In a-a rush…”

“Oh blast it all…this is wholly your own fault then, darling. You cannot expect your body to perform at its best when you do not make the extra effort to ensure proper support and comfort! I can respect tradition as much as the next Gryphonness, yet such a sleeping position is hardly conducive to proper relaxation. Oh dear, oh dear…such…a…nasty little bugger!”

With each emphasized word she dug two of her blunted talons deeper and deeper into the tender flesh of my neck, eliciting ever more grunts and squeaks of pain out of me. I knew she spoke with wisdom and from a position of expert authority out of a genuine concern for my well-being like a trained Healer…which made all self-conscious, self-flagellating thoughts ever the more crisp and sharp upon the senses. Unlike our weapons, various tools, and other equipment, a bedroll and blankets were not a traditional part of the standard equipment issued to newly-graduated Witchers, Witchlings, or Acolytes. It was not done to spite them out of a good night's rest, but rather remained as a token of respect for the First Born who took on a semi-ascetic lifestyle of sleeping beneath the open sky with no other comforts than what the earth beneath them had to offer. Like with the altruism which accompanied the old ways, wherein Witchering services rendered were ‘paid’ for with gracious lodging and what food or drink was offered, such heady days of selfless work were quite far behind us. Instead, exquisite and professional bedroll packages such as those produced by the Dwem, Direwolves and Gryphons had long-since become the norm for all members of our guild to carry as part of their rucksacks. Much as the spirit of sleeping beneath the stars under the bounty of the Cosmos ever had the romantic appeal to it…many of us simply craved a better night's sleep upon the High Road than what a mere patch of dirt or a grassy knoll could possibly provide. As to be expected of such high-quality products, the significant difference to be felt between resting upon their admittedly expensive comfort and the open road was one well worth its weight in gold after the first night experiencing the improvements it made over the old ways; no matter how relatively effective they remained when in a pinch. Unfortunately, such a position as using one's own leg and shoulder to provide some modicum of head support for sleep had been hardwired into my being even during my days as a Novice as it was part of the standard curriculum. As a result…whenever I was particularly lazy, such as my morning doze as landed me in such pain as I was seeking relief from, I had the tendency to default to the sleeping position drilled deep into my multi-layered web of habitations, both good and bad.

“I can see now plainly why you sought me out specifically…” She crooned once the light well of tears dammed up behind my eyes cleared as she set a pair of warming stones upon the problematic area, coaxing lactic acid away from the site with long, gentle drags of her talons across the breadth of my shoulder. “Luckily for you, I am a master of eking out relief and respite from even the most stubborn of knotted muscles and kinked joints.”

She had yet to work on anything other than my neck and shoulder and yet, I was no more capable of speaking anything in reply as the veritable sludge I had become. Even the haggard sigh I finally managed to force out took more effort than should have been necessary for such an simple action. Graciously, she was most accustomed to such replies in her line of work and was accommodating enough to pat me on the back and smile in warm acknowledgement of my acknowledgement of her efforts. Indeed, a deep sigh such as mine was a payment of its own for all her many efforts as the sound and look of genuine relief and satisfaction was something very difficult to fake. I could only hope my own was gratifying enough for her satisfaction.

“Good girl…now you let that heat set back in and tell me what you've been up to since last we met while we wait.” Her melodic tones hummed out brightly in my left ear as I found myself fighting the urge to sleep once more.

“M-mm…” Was all I was able to mumble before more strength returned to my lips so as to be able to speak clearly. “Not…really much to say, I'm afraid..."

"Really...? I find that hard to believe, given the life you lot live year-on-year. Hel, some of you just...never come back one year. Always at random...ugh, not a thing I wish to dwell upon."

"The Path calls to us every year and I heed it like I should until whatever end. Braxia is the only reason I am home early and…inevitably, I am set to return to the Path once again within the next day or two...”

“Oh…? You hardly sound all that excited to do so. Is there something the matter?”

Even my stubborn anxiety regarding her affections for me had to cower somewhat in the face of such astute observations of my change in behavior. She was being paid to massage and soothe my aches and pains, not to converse with me let alone show an interest in such things. And yet…she was taking it upon herself to check in on me with genuine, gentle concern in her voice as she sat close nearby to continue our conversation in hushed privacy.

“I will not lie to you Rosalia…I am facing an unusual dilemma and lack a form of guidance which can soothe my worry. A friend, a rather close one, has…entreated me to perform a service on their behalf. They are going to pay me for it regardless of if I wished it to be strictly considered an enormous personal favor…but it isn't something I would consider doing in any other situation of my own volition.”

“Oh…? I take it from your…careful choice of evasive wording that such a request is not quite an honorable one? Correct me if I am wrong if you wish.”

“No need, you are unfortunately correct. The action is...quantifiably justifiable…but it requires a very non-orthodox, near…heretical interpretation of the Witcher's Code. Many innocent lives may be spared from further terrorization by doing this…but it is not a matter in which Witchers need be involved as it falls outside our jurisdiction.”

“...But only by a strict interpretation of the Code…” She continued for me as realization hit her face as to what I was implying towards. “I see…well, if you came seeking my humble opinion on such a matter…there are two answers I have available to you. The first is simply to follow your gut on the matter as it is a terrific window into your instinctual response and the second, far more personal answer is to do it. If there are innocents that stand to benefit from such a deed…then it is a price I know I would be willing to take on myself. I cannot speak for you of course, yet I’d like to say I’ve caught a glimpse or two of the kind of mare that you are and that is one who is willing to go that kind of length in the service of the common citizen. You dropped your duty to the Path to return one of your Fallen comrades to a proper rest where they belong…that isn’t something that should be disregarded in something like this. And yes, I know that returning a corpse for burial is not the same as…removing certain roadblocks in an unorthodox manner…yet you are still a mare dedicated to doing the best you can for others.”

I could not help but turn my head as best I was able to look at her more properly than out of the corner of my eye and all I could see in her single visible eye was a firm, compassionate expression. She had spoken her mind as I had requested in a roundabout manner…and I felt just that bit more resolved to my course of action. Many doubts and misgivings remained clinging to my anxious thoughts but her words had brought a sense of validation which I had been ultimately seeking all along. My gut trusted Violet…and word of her impact on those citizens of Yonderland she had so graciously liberated in a manner of speaking had come of each of her previous actions. Had I the time…I might have truly considered seeking a second opinion by Petra or one of the few others I could trust to confide such tidings as mine with. Yet time itself was becoming increasingly scarce the longer I lingered at Kaer Solaris locked in a back-and-forth debate with myself over the matter. There were still several hours left in which to begin final preparations, excluding of course the impending Vigil to be held to honor Braxia’s memory and internment. Until such time however, I was still free to do as I pleased…within reason of course.

“R-Ros-” I began to say slowly until she pressed a single talon to my lips and leaned in close.

“Shhh…no, I do not and will not think less of you for doing…whatever this is. You’ve given me a decent idea as to what it is…but I suppose I will eventually catch wind of precisely who it shall be. I have a sneaking suspicion that this ‘friend’ of yours is purple and feisty as Hel itself… Regardless my dear, I trust you to make the right decision. Would you not say that some matters are simply best left to those with a will and a means to attain good ends?”

“Well…no…”

“Exactly. It is a slippery slope of logic to engage in, yet like any sin…I think an occasional, mild indulgence from time-to-time can bring about much needed change when existing forces are insufficient to get the ball rolling, so to speak. You Witchers are made to banish the Darkness wherever it’s found and if that Darkness is safely nestled behind laws and powerful blood…simply exercise your right to banish evil. Some bastards out there forfeited their right to protection from justice when they decided to let evil into their hearts and insisted on acting upon it.”

“T-thanks…” I said simply, quietly in reply before letting my swirling head slide back into a comfortable position looking ahead.

“Anytime my dear. Now…let’s see to the rest of your body, shall we? You have a long road ahead of you, regardless of where it is…I want you feeling your best for the journey.”

“I…I don’t deserve a friend like you, Rosalia…”

“As Yonderland likes to say, au contraire darling.” She giggled most amusedly as a wide smile graced her face. “You are most deserving of my time and attention. Even if our time together is usually in this capacity so you are in fact paying me for the pleasure of my company.”

“A cost I am most happy to pay for the talented work of your talons…” I replied with a soft laugh as I flashed a lazy smile back at her. “Although…perhaps someday we can meet under different circumstances where I am not simply another customer in line.”

“Oh my, that was certainly very forward for you to say aloud! Aren’t I a lucky girl, heh, heh. That can certainly be arranged, but it will more than likely have to wait until winter falls.”

“Unfortunately…”

“Oh don’t you fret darling, my down is plenty warm for two when it fully grows-in.”

I was…I was utterly incapable of processing what she was implying with such a statement. My greatest wish with her was the gift of any form of intimacy which went beyond what occurred on the massage table…and she had the gall to imply all that and more to my poor, burning face. I was saved some embarrassment by forcibly looking down towards the padding immediately beneath me, yet the piercing gaze of my giggling companion could be felt like the burning rays of the Sun. If ever there was another major upside to giving Ludovic’s offer a thorough consideration…it was people like her who went out of their way to make me feel seen, heard and, perhaps the most important of all, loved. The world outside the Valley was almost wholly hostile and unwelcoming…whereas open arms like hers stood waiting to embrace me always upon my return. My time on the Path was going to inevitably drag itself on-and-on into eternity now that I had an ever growing list of comforts to return home to.

* * * * * *