Chapter 398

Chapter 398: Past

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Once again, night descended upon the land, the silvery moon on the heavens smiling at its reflection in the deep, dark sea. Silvery moonlight shone on the fortress, draping it in a sheen of silver. Silent were the mountains, save for the whispers of breeze sailing through the path of snow and the crashes of the waves against the reefs.

The journey had exhausted Igsena, and she had retired for the night. Coen, obeying his mentor’s orders, took Roy around for a tour. The young witcher took a gander at their library and the remarkably lackluster laboratory. At the same time, Coen told the young witcher about the fortress’ past.

“So, tell me. How did your school and Kaer Seren come to be?” Roy hunkered down and placed Gryphon on the ground. The little one scurried off into the darkness, and then a gigantic silhouette was seen flying into the distant skies.

“Ah, it’s an intricate story, one Keldar has tirelessly recounted many times. He saw to it that I memorized the history of our school. Remember the stele you saw?” Coen pulled his clothes tighter. Even he was affected by the winds. Roy heard him sniffle. “An elven mage discovered this land and established that stele in the courtyard. Then came the eleventh century.”

He paused for a moment to hunker down and dust the snow off him. “Our creator, Alzur, came along and built this fortress with his men. But as you can see, most of those buildings are mere rubble now. However, Kaer Seren started off as a lab. A lab to experiment on witcher mutations. Didn’t end too well at first. Corpses piled up in the great hall. Corpses of the failures. And then there were the curses invoked by the souls of those who never became witchers. Alzur and his men abandoned this accursed land in pursuit of new ventures.”

Roy breathed into his palms. The story unsettled him. Huh. Looks like Alzur was a bastard. He saw humans as nothing but disposable test subjects.

“At the same time, the community of witchers dissolved and broke into the different schools you see today.”

Coen’s eyes glinted under the moonlight, and he perked up. “Erland of Larvik led thirteen comrades-in-arms in pursuit of Alzur’s footsteps. It took them here, to Kaer Seren. They cleaned up the corpses and gave them a proper burial. It was then they declared their sovereignty over Kaer Seren and founded the school. It was named ‘Griffin,’ in remembrance of his mentor. He came up with a battle system that puts great emphasis on pre-battle preparation, flexibility, and magic, and it was with that system that he raised a generation of Griffins. At the same time, the Griffins are taught about A Knight’s Honor and Virtue’s Guide, both of which are books that talk about the virtues of a knight. It was one of the reasons Erland established the school.”

Roy cocked his eyebrow.

“His wish was to change how the people thought of witchers. It was his wish that one day, the people would put their prejudice aside and show witchers the respect and gratitude they deserve.”

Roy paced forward slowly and stared at the remains of the fortress. For some inexplicable reason, he felt strength coming from it. The Griffins were idealists, that much was certain, but what befuddled Roy was Erland’s actions. “Alzur abandoned us, didn’t he? So why did Erland follow in his footsteps?” So he can lick Alzur’s boots?

“To quote Keldar, Erland despised Alzur’s inhumane act. He abhorred the fact that Alzur saw humans as nothing but mere test subjects.” A sigh escaped Coen’s lips. “But he acknowledged the intention behind it. The intention of saving the people. He wished to find Alzur and Cosimo. To demand an explanation. He wanted to know if they had abandoned their ideals. He wished to turn them back to the straight and narrow.”

Roy shook his head. He went to challenge his creator on their morals? Brave, but…

“Naturally, Erland failed.” Coens hook his head darkly. A long silence ensued, but he eventually continued. “He never saw the creators, let alone persuade them into turning back to the right path. But it was thanks to his journey that he managed to find this place and establish Kaer Seren. And then he spent his whole life building it up from scratch. Many allies of justice were born in this fortress, some of them famous. For example, George of Kagen, the Dragonslayer.”

Roy puckered his lips. In most people’s eyes, the Dragonslayer was synonymous with foolishness and misfortune, not courage and strength. “Do you think they’re dead, Coen? The creators, I mean,” Roy asked.

“None knows.” Coen sighed. “It has been centuries since their last sighting.”

***

“The founding of Kaer Seren was followed by the appearance of all the other schools. The schools worked independently of each other, maintaining a tenuous balance. And thus, we enter the golden age of witchers. This period spanned from the eleventh century to the twelfth.”

Coen curled up a little. He made a sign with his right hand and covered himself with the black shield of Heliotrop. It kept the cold away, and he stood up straighter.

Roy cocked his eyebrow again. He couldn’t even see how Coen cast his Sign.

“A hundred years ago, Erland noticed something. The number of witchers had grown to a point where there was a lack of monsters for us to kill.”

Roy took a deep breath. Memories of his days as a witcher flooded his mind. He had conflicting feelings about it. “When there were no monsters left to kill, the people began to see witchers as monsters.”

Coen shot Roy a look of surprise. “Your wisdom extends beyond your age, Roy. Yes. When humans feel that they are free from the threat of monsters, the power we witchers possess is seen as a threat to them.” There was irony in Coen’s voice. “At the same time, Temeria was facing a plague crisis. Fearing the ever-expanding witchers, the churches started spreading rumors about them. Rumors that they were the cause of the plague.”

“That’s dirty.” Roy asked, “Who did that? Church of Kreve?”

“To be very clear, what I’m going to say next is the objective truth. No biases,” Coen emphasized. “Listen closely. Churches. Plural. Kreve, Melitele, Eternal Fire, you name it. Their hierarchs saw us as a threat to their proselytization efforts, and thus they started slandering us.”

Roy hung his head low. He was reminded of the temple of Temeria he used to be in. He was reminded of the gentle Nenneke and the priestesses who took in orphans selflessly. It was ironic that a religion founded in kindness had a history steeped in malice.

“To make things worse, the mages were eyeing the treasure trove of tomes Kaer Seren had.”

“Vesemir told me about it,” Roy interjected. “The secrets of Kaer Seren became the object of Aretuza and Ban Ard’s desire. They wanted to get their hands on those tomes.”

Coen stared into the moon, a hint of pride showing on his face only to be replaced by sadness a moment later. “Yes. The previous Griffins researched and collected tomes of magic from all over the world to satiate their obsession for magic. And Erland, who followed the creed of neutrality closely, refused to share those secrets with the mages, who are notoriously known for their political meddling. And thus, the mages plotted a siege on us. The churches provided them with the best ammunition, and they came to us under the banner of justice. Quietly, they caused an avalanche. A catastrophic one that was grand in scale.”

Coen said grimly, “The avalanche destroyed Kaer Seren, burying it under a snowy grave. And it happened during a winter night. Griffins would spend most of the year hunting, only coming back for a gathering during the winter. They were all meditating in their rooms when disaster struck. Most of them died.”

“So the avalanche took place a century ago?” Roy asked. “Only Keldar survived?”

Coen nodded and shook his head. “He was once the monster knowledge instructor, and by chance, he survived. Erland was in the courtyard when the avalanche struck. He watched helplessly as his life’s work was turned into rubble within moments, taking many of his brethren with it. He witnessed how humanity’s greed could drive them to the extremes of cruelty.” Coen clenched his fists and loosened them. “He lost the drive to go on, and after he helped Keldar leave and healed him up, Erland left. All he left behind was a book titled The Hunt. It detailed all his life experiences. Since then, nobody knows where he went. A hundred years have passed.” Coen sighed. “I might be a Griffin, but I never got to see the fortress in its glory days.”

Okay, so the survivors made different choices. One stayed behind, while the other left in disappointment. A hint of sorrow filled Roy’s heart, and anger came with it. This is an unkind world. One where witchers cannot live in peace.

Up until now, Roy had learned about four witcher genocides. One was the Wild Hunt’s assault on Gorthur Gvaed, another was the mage-led assault on Kaer Morhen, the third was a witcher tournament held by the king of Kaedwen, and the fourth was an ambush on Kaer Seren organized by mages and churches who were hungry for the fortress’ secrets.

They destroyed the fortress with no effort at all. Hasn’t Erland thought of revenge? Why did he leave this place behind? Roy shook his head. But then again, one man can’t do anything against the mages and the churches. Perhaps Erland’s selflessness and knightly honor became his own worst prison. Obstinance filled his soul, and he refused to hurt humans no matter what they did to him.

***

Roy stared at the stele. A long silence later, Coen heaved a sigh and composed himself. “But that’s all in the past now. Keldar and I are living a quiet life, and it’s fine.”

Some people don’t ask much out of life. I can’t change their minds with simple persuasion. “Did Erland ever come back?”

Coen shook his head.

“Perhaps he’s still searching for Alzur in a remote corner of the world.”

Roy fell into silence. Most of the earliest witchers were missing, even until now. Ivar of the Viper School, Elgar of the Wolf, and Erland of the Griffin. If they’re still alive, why didn’t they come back and see how their schools are doing? If they’re dead, there should be news about it. Did they all die in a remote place or something?

Roy thought that was possible, but he had another, bolder guess. Or maybe they’re all locked up in someplace we don’t know.

***

“You two are the only Griffins left. Do you still follow their tradition of hunting most of the year and coming back in the winter?” Roy asked.

“That’s what I do.” Coen looked at the house in the middle. Light shone through the crack of the ajar door. “Most of the time, I’m hunting, but from what I know, Keldar hasn’t left this place in more than twenty years.”

There was respect in his eyes. “Keldar would rather write down everything he knew instead of going out for some monster hunting. Besides some necessary requests, he spends most of his time studying. He goes through tomes and parchments beside the fireplace every day, writing down everything he gleans from them. When the sun sets, he studies in his room. That goes on until late at night. It’s been this way for many years. Nobody can match him in his thirst for knowledge.”

“Does he like to teach, then?”

Coen hesitated for a moment, and then he nodded. “He’s a tough teacher. Every time I answered his questions wrong when I was a kid, he would mercilessly mock me. But I can feel his love for teaching. It’s only second to his love for knowledge.”

Roy put his hands behind his back, pacing back and forth around the sconces. “Very well. Coen, do you think Keldar would come to Novigrad?”

Coen shook his head. “Nothing can make him leave this place. Nothing.”

“What about you, then?” Roy did not give up. “Will you come and meet the kids and the witchers?”

Keldar is hard to convince, but Coen seems to be open to suggestion.

Coen rubbed his chin in silence. A dilemma warred in his eyes.

Roy continued. “Your lover has abandoned her village. She crossed a couple of the local thugs, and that basically barred her from ever going back. Are you planning to keep her in Kaer Seren forever?”

Coen said nothing, but a frown started furrowing his brows.

“If you’d want her to move to a city, why not come to Novigrad? She has nobody to rely on in Kovir and Poviss, but the brotherhood can help her out if she comes to Novigrad. We can easily get her a job. And the mage is good friends with me. Should you ever get tired of Novigrad and wish to return to Poviss, just say the word, and we’ll portal you away.”

“Why do you help us, Roy?”

“I’m a witcher. Of course I help witchers. Don’t give me that look. Think of it as an investment. Perhaps the day may come when we need your help,” Roy said solemnly. “We won’t make you violate your creed, of course.”

He finally wavered. “You have a point. I’ll ask Keldar and Igsena. If they’re fine with it, we’ll go to Novigrad.”

He too wanted to see what witchers from other schools looked like. Coen stared up at the moon and pleaded, “But please stop asking me to join the brotherhood. Keldar won’t let me, and you’ll be putting me in a hard spot. We will never go back on our creed.”

Roy shrugged and nodded. And yet he goaded, “I won’t bring this up again. You are your own man. Make your own decision. Just take this as a vacation. Have your honeymoon in Novigrad.”

Roy the diplomat had finally reached an agreement with Coen.

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