The Witcher: Serpent School Witcher's Otherworldly Journey

"It's just a simple job, Your Majesty," Geralt finally spoke, his tone softening and carrying a professional caution. "Clearing the water ghost's lair doesn't require any sophisticated tactics, just patience and a little potion as bait. I think I'll have a hard time winning this bet. My colleague... as long as he's not a complete novice, it'll be a piece of cake for him."

The sword pierced through the thick wooden board, and the ruby ​​at the end of the hilt carved a deep dent into the table, causing the map and quill on the table to jump.

"You witchers are such a boring bunch."

The king roared, but there was no real killing intent in his voice; it was more of a venting of frustration at his son's lack of ambition. He tilted his head back and drank the wine in his cup in one gulp, the red liquid dripping down his chin and onto his chainmail. His Adam's apple bobbed violently with each swallow, like that of a traveler in the desert yearning for water.

"Always so weird! Always so 'professional' and 'calm'!" Foltest wiped his mouth, his eyes becoming somewhat unfocused, as if lost in some kind of memory. "Ten years ago, in the royal hunting grounds of the Mahakan Mountains. It was winter, so cold that even bears wouldn't come out. The snow was waist-high, and even two of my hounds with the keenest sense of smell froze to death. There was a guy with eyes just like yours, also a witcher, with scars on his face. He looked like a tough guy who had survived hundreds of cuts. He saved my captain of the guard."

The king drew the Akshim sign in the air with his index finger, though it was not standard and the angle of his finger was completely wrong. It is unknown how he learned it.

"I allow him to choose any spoils he wants in my royal hunting grounds! Whether he desires a royally raised spotted deer or a few fine fox pelts, I will provide them!"

Foltest spread his hands, making an incredulous expression.

"And what did that fool bring back? Three dead deer! And old male deer so tough you couldn't even chew their meat! And half a winter bear! It was scraps he snatched from the mouths of ghouls! Then he said to me, 'Your Majesty, this is food for the winter. Winters in Kaer Morhen are long, and we need to stock up.'"

The king shook his head, as if telling a huge joke.

"Doesn't he know that if you skinned that bear whole, even just half of it, it would fetch an astronomical price on the Vizima black market in winter? That's a winter bear! When its fur is at its thickest! And all he's thinking about is eating the meat? Are you witchers' brains filled with the sludge of water demons?"

An eerie silence suddenly fell over the hall.

Only the faint sounds of the wind outside the tent and the distant whirring of the catapult winch could be heard.

Geralt's pupils contracted slightly. He had indeed heard Eskel mention this while he was wintering in Kaer Morhen. But the version of the story was completely different from the one told by the king.

That winter, Kaer Morhen's food supplies were indeed running low. Eskel didn't just "pass by" and save the captain of the guard; the captain and his men had strayed into ghoul territory and nearly perished. Eskel destroyed his own silver sword and was wounded while saving them. When the Witcher carried the frozen, terrified captain of the guard, dragging a whole sack of stinking ghoul minions, back to the king's warm and luxurious hunting camp, Foltest was fast asleep in the arms of two maids dressed in thin veils, the tent warmed by a fireplace and filled with the scent of spices.

The reward that time was actually two bags of gold coins—not much, just enough to repair the silver sword and a dagger engraved with the royal crest. As for the "three dead deer and half a winter bear," those were prey that Eskel hunted on his own when he left after refusing the king's invitation to "stay and perform swordplay as a court jester."

In Eskel's account, he added a line Geralt still vividly remembers: "The king asked me to stay and demonstrate my swordsmanship, as if I were a trained falcon in his hunting grounds. I told him I would rather be a wolf, even if I only get scraps. His face immediately changed."

But the king clearly preferred to remember his own version. In this version, he was a generous monarch, and the witcher was a foolish, inflexible barbarian.

Geralt couldn't help but wonder if it was Eskel's cold attitude and aversion to associating with the powerful that had angered the extremely proud king. For someone like Foltest, being refused his "favor" was often more unbearable than assassinating him.

Geralt couldn't help but think of it, and then sighed silently to himself.

"Two orens a pound for a water ghost's head," Geralt's voice remained as steady as a still well. "A skilled witcher won't let any opportunity to be hired slip by, especially in a place like La Valetti, renowned for its trade. He can easily sell his spoils—heads, claws, salivary glands—almost every part of a water ghost is in demand."

"So you're telling me that the new guy will be eager to do this job? Humph, he probably doesn't know there's going to be a war here. Your colleagues are really out of the loop."

"At this time of year, I would also choose a place with many water ghosts to accept commissions. Perhaps he was busy doing this in that place before, after all, a water ghost can be exchanged for at least one Oren. If you sell it along with anything valuable embedded in its brain, such as undigested jewelry or silver buttons left in its stomach after it has eaten some unfortunate traveler, the price can be even higher."

"Assuming the family whose laborers were dragged into the water by the water ghost still has enough money to pay, haha."

Geralt didn't want to comment on Folstätter's strange sense of humor, so he could only respond to his jokes in silence.

Folstätter gave Geralt a deep look, exhaled a puff of alcohol from his nostrils, and then waved casually at the trembling squire, as if shooing away a fly.

"Alright, alright. Since our White Wolf Master is unwilling to earn this extra money, let that outsider 'master' clean up the water ghosts around the camp."

Foltest sat back down in his bearskin chair, sinking into the soft fur. He picked up a battle report from the table, seemingly having lost interest in the topic.

"After all, I am a king beloved by my people. I would never allow monsters to kill my own people right under my nose, even in times of war. Protecting the weak is the duty of the strong, and the responsibility of a king. Don't you agree, Geralt?"

"...Of course, Your Majesty."