The Divine Hunter

Roy agreed to Letho’s invitation. Being a witcher was not a bad choice for him, for he hadn’t discovered any talent for being a mage.

Everything went mostly according to plan. The only deviation was instead of going to the familiar Wolf School, Roy was going to the Viper School, a school that was almost gone from history, and one that was known for its assassinations, poisons, and witchers who used short swords.

But Roy couldn’t let the opportunity slip away. Staying in this remote village would hamper his growth. The village would have to face the Nilfgaardian invasion in the near future, and they might have to fend off new monsters. There were too many untold dangers if he stayed there.

Even if he trained for just three years, with a veteran witcher like Letho, Roy could grow stronger by leaps and bounds, and he could learn about the trade of witchers. If he managed to pass the Trial of the Grasses, his strength would spike. So what if I become sterile? Roy had never thought about having kids, even in his old world, let alone this new one.

Convincing his parents to move to Novigrad hadn’t been a difficult task. They weren’t even forty years old, and they looked forward to the big city life. They had no attachment to the village, unlike the elderly, though they were still nervous.

It was rare to have a witcher promise their mentorship, but Roy had a problem: his parents objected to him leaving their side.

Roy wasn’t even fourteen. Even though children in medieval society grew up faster, no fourteen-year-old would leave their parents. The teens relied on them for survival, and no parent would want their child to risk their lives training with witchers.

Roy had to make up a lie. “Dad, Susie, I’m just a trainee, and I’m not going to get into any battles. Think of me as his assistant, like how I was when I worked for Uncle Fletcher. The job’s different though. Witchers have lousy money management skills, and they don’t know how to spend the money from their bounty. Most of the time, they use up all the crowns they earn in a year in a few days.”

At least Roy wasn’t lying about that part. Most witchers knew nothing about money management. Risking their lives for a living drilled the need for instant gratification into them. The moment they made money from requests, most would spend it on ale, brothels, or Gwent.

Regular maintenance of their gear and the purchasing of alchemy materials cost many crowns, and most witchers lived request to request. Geralt of Rivia was one of them. Sometimes, he even needed his friends to help him pay off some of his bills.

“I’m just going to manage his accounts. Think of me as a banker in Vivaldi’s Bank. And we won’t be separated for too long. I’ll come to Novigrad to visit. I promise.”

“You’re lying, Roy, my boy. Since you were a babe, you never even learned how to read. How are you supposed to know how to count?”

Susie and Moore didn’t believe Roy until he showed them some basic math formulas. Of course, that was thanks to Luo Yi.

Everyone was dumbfounded at the calculations, including the witchers. Susie and Moore couldn’t refuse their son anymore, so they bought into his lie, and they cried at the thought of separation.

They spent a day packing all the valuables from their house, which only amounted to a few sets of clothes. They had to leave the land behind, because it wasn’t theirs to possess. And then off to Novigrad they went, with the witchers escorting them.

Most of the villagers came out to watch the spectacle, but none of them bid a happy farewell. Most showed contempt and disgust.

Traditions of old had entrenched themselves deep within the souls of the villagers. To them, witchers were nothing but tools used to destroy monsters. Aside from that, they saw them as filthy mutants and harbingers of disaster.

Their prejudice against the witchers blinded them from seeing the reason Susie and Moore were following the witchers to Novigrad.

After their decision to move had spread throughout the village, many villagers came to dissuade them. Susie and Moore did hesitate, but Roy managed to convince them. He was a better decision maker than they were, and after what happened to Fletcher and Brandon, Roy was disappointed in the villagers.

Before his departure, Roy’s only friend, One-Eyed Jack, came to see him off, and he patted Roy’s head. “Time flies. You used to be a shy little lad, but now you’re one brave, persistent little brat. I knew you’d leave this shithole of a place sooner or later. Ah, the light in your eyes reminds me of my younger days. I can see them speaking of ambition and secrets untold.”

Really? Roy didn’t think he was ambitious. He only wanted a bit of adventure.

“You ain’t coming back after this, are you? I would’ve gone with you, but this bag o’ bones can’t take any more hits. Oh, right, since you avenged my dead drinking buddy, here’s a farewell gift.”

One-Eyed Jack handed a thirty five card Gwent deck to Roy reluctantly. “This is my prized possession — the Skellige deck. No hero cards in here, but all the rare cards are present. Take it with you, and show your skills to the world. I wish you the best. Those cities always have Gwent competitions going on, so go forth and conquer, kid.”

Roy took the deck solemnly and placed it near his heart, then sent it into his inventory space. This whole deck is worth two hundred crowns, easy. Jack gave me one expensive gift.

“When you get to Novigrad, if you have the time, pay a visit to Number 320 on the east side of the river. If you see an old git named Frank, tell him I said hi.”

After relaying his request, Jack gave Roy a hug that almost crushed the boy’s ribs, and waved him goodbye.