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[PR: Ash]

The door and windows of the conference hall were shut tight. A trio of candelabras shone gently upon the room, but the look on the sorceress’ face was icy. Her arms were crossed, and she was looking at a girl in a green floral dress who had a morose look on her face.

A stack of papers with bizarre patterns on them as well as a quill sat on the table. “We’re going on with the magic test, you ugly duckling.” Yennefer looked at Ciri, her violet eyes filled with solemn warning. “Same requirement. Answer them with honesty and resolve.”

“But I don’t want to go through the test anymore!” Ciri fidgeted, the overly-hard stool hurting her behind. Stubbornly, the girl protested, “It’s been three days, and the test takes up the whole afternoon. I keep having to draw stars, moons, animals, and houses that look like mazes. What does that have to do with magic, Lady Yennefer? I wanna learn how to light candles with nothing but my hand; I want to learn how to breathe underwater; I want to learn how to make bread and water out of nothing when I’m hungry. And I want to learn how to fly like Gryphon, not sit here drawing random art. Are you a sorceress or an artist?”

The test had gone on for three days, and Ciri was getting stiff and sore from it, the soreness getting worse with each passing day. Yennefer’s classes were a lot more boring than what she had in mind. She swore she was seeing stars at one point, but Yennefer wouldn’t allow her to even lose focus. That was ridiculous. She was a child, so of course she would be distracted.

Ciri was starting to miss the days she could play with her friends in the yards, messing around with the chickens and Roy’s dog. She missed seeing Kiyan and taking naps in the classroom.

“I’m going to say this once more: magic is a multifaceted subject. It is an art and a form of science.” Yennefer held Ciri’s delicate hands and pried her fingers apart. “If you do not learn how to draw, you’ll be left with clumsy fingers. You’ll be making gestures uglier than a toad. The other sorcerers will be laughing at you.”

“And how do you know I have the talent for magic even before I am tested?” Ciri crossed her arms and harrumphed, swiveling on the stool and showing her back to Yennefer. The girl let out a childlike roar. “I don’t want to draw these stupid animals. I’m saying it. I don’t have any talent for magic, and I don’t want to learn magic anymore.”

“Vetoed.” Yennefer shook her head. Matter-of-factly, she said, “You are fated to walk the path of magic.”

“No! I wanna learn how to swing a sword like Carl and Monti!” And then the girl let out a gasp, clutching her reddening forehead. She sniffled, tears glistening in her eyes.

Yennefer massaged her index finger. “Have you forgotten what you promised Geralt and me? You’ll do as you’re told even if the assignments are arduous. You’ll keep pushing on in earnest no matter how hard things get. It’s just the third day now, and you’re already going back on your word? Everyone’s going to look down on you if they know. The witcher apprentices, the soon-to-be alchemists, the fledgling blacksmiths… You’re a Cintran. You’re known for facing challenges head on. Show that spirit.”

“This is child abuse, Grandma Yennefer!”

The air in the conference hall dropped a few degrees, and Yennefer shot the girl a dangerous look.

“You can’t just order me around.” Ciri leapt out of the chair, looking up at Yennefer. She then realized she had a few points she could exploit, so she put her hands behind her back in an attempt to look more mature. Stubbornly, the girl stared into Yennefer’s eyes and seriously said, “First creed of the brotherhood: equality. You want me to listen to you, then you have to follow that rule too.”

Yennefer chuckled. “You have one thing wrong. I am not a part of the brotherhood, but I’ve been genuine with you, you ugly duckling.”

“And stop calling me that! The girls say that I’m the prettiest one around this place. I’m as pretty as Vicki herself! There are boys out there who like me. Stole glances at me while I was moving around in the yard.”

“Because they pity you.” Yennefer pinched the girl’s nose, her eyes flashing with sympathy, and Ciri caught that. It made her nervous. “They were thinking how could someone look so ugly. Nose as big as a boy’s, lips too thin, weird green eyes, and squiggly brows. They were wondering if you could marry yourself off someday.”

“Um, be honest with me. Am I that ugly?” Ciri clasped her hands together before her chest and stared at Yennefer wide-eyed, her voice dejected.

“You can cry if you want, but you don’t have to feel bad about it. Maybe someday you’ll grow up to be a swan.”

“I won’t cry. You’re trying to trick me again, aren’t you? If you’re really genuine with me, then answer my question. If you do, I’ll go back to drawing.” Mischief flitted within Ciri’s eyes. She was reminded of a certain something Roy told her.

“Ask away.”

“I heard you have a wooden statue of a unicorn? I’ve had a go with a griffin, so can you magic the statue away and give it life so I can ride it?”

“No! And you’re going to forget about that! You are not allowed to mention it ever again!” Reminded of a… more colorful past, Yennefer’s cheeks turned pink. “Now go back to your seat. Take the quill and lay out the paper. You’re drawing the obsidian I’m wearing around my neck now.”

“Hey, that wasn’t very genuine, Lady Yennefer. How come you and Geralt get to ride the unicorn but I can’t?”

“That bastard told you the story? Geralt, she’s just a child!”

***

Geralt was in the woods, watching over the children as they dug up potatoes. He sneezed and rubbed his nose, a feeling of unease welling in his heart.

“You’ve gotten old, Geralt. She’s just one sorceress, and already you couldn’t handle her?” Lambert winked at Geralt. “Might want to come to the Pike’s Grotto with me and change things up.”

“Sod off.” Geralt winced a little, and he was starting to wonder what he did wrong to annoy Yen.

***

Waves crashed against the reef of the Skellige Isles, and Roy’s boat slowly waded through the freezing waters, bumping into the golden sands gently. The bow broke through the soft sand, lodging itself into the ground. Golden rays of sunshine shone on the witcher, lending a bit of glitter to his cloak.

The witcher had been rowing for two days, and the air around him was filled with the stench of blood and sweat. Roy quickly pulled the boat to a nearby bush and hid it there. He then dragged his feet across the sands and disappeared behind a row of weeping golden willows.

Undvik was still a beautiful place untainted by the ice giant that would rampage across its land ten years later, leaving nothing but desolation and dens of beasts in its wake. Thanks to its good geolocation, Undvik was the second most popular isles among the six, attracting a huge number of tourists every year to marvel at its beautiful scenery and feast on the best seafood and local delicacies.

Roy sauntered down a path within the woods, signposts pointing where he needed to go. He ran into a wolf on his way to his destination. Well, the body of a wolf that was cleaved in two. Must be the handiwork of the locals.

He noticed tourists ambling down the sides of the path. Judging from their fashion style, there were people from Redania, Temeria, and Aedirn. These tourists were even outnumbering the locals.

An hour later, Roy finally came to a human settlement in the northern part of the island—Marlin Coast. The roads of the coast were huge, and around it were dozens of houses made of stone bricks. Along the streets, merchants of Skellige Isles trundled along, selling their wares. Some were homemade marlin pies, some were selling smoked whale meat, some peddled the isles’ herbs, while some were selling colorful and beautiful trinkets. Useless stones and mementos.

The witcher noticed one half naked Skellige man with a hat made out of auk feathers selling pickled shark meat. The stench from the fermented urine alone almost made Roy think there was a monster nearby.

There were of course real and valuable merchandise, like ambergris and premium sturgeon caviar. On the flip side, there were also numerous types of bizarre products, a couple of them being erynia jerky and ekhidna jerky. These monsters were abundant around the isles, and Roy felt slightly amused seeing them. These monsters are slightly poisonous. Guess the islanders have great poison resistance.

***

Roy came to a stop before a gaunt and tanned merchant. He spent ten coppers on a piece of pickled shark meat. It was gray and the size of his palm. The young witcher held his breath and tucked it away in his inventory space. Hope you like this present, kids. “So how can I get to Clan Tordarroch’s turf?”

“Their clan lives in Cod Town. It’s in the south near the mountains. Just follow the signposts and head south. Ye can’t miss it.” The merchant sized the witcher up. “Ye wanna buy somethin’ off ’em?”

“Yes.”

“Buy some smoked whale meat and I’ll give ye an advice.”

What do you know, kids? More presents.

“The Tordarrochs are proud fellas, that I can tell you. Only sells the finest weapons to true warriors,” said the merchant proudly. “‘Tis why they always require potential clients ter pass their trial. Only those who can pass the trial and prove their bravery can purchase their wares. Heard their family ran into some sorta trouble lately. Quite a few of their clansmen died. Reckon the trial’s going to be tough.”

“Can I buy my way through it?”

“Ye can try, certainly. The clan’s been ‘ere for generations. Loves the art of blacksmithing as much as them Mahakam dwarves. Spent all their lives improvin’ the art. Coin ain’t mean nuthin’ ter ’em.”

“I see. May Freya bless you. See you around.”

***

Cod Town was a more bustling place compared to Marlin Coast. They had everything here, and tourists were a common sight on the streets. In the center of the town stood a building. Underneath the granite overhang was a blower and a forge with blazing flames within. A blacksmith with a leather apron and burly arms stood before the forge.

In his left hand were a pair of tongs. The blacksmith used it to hold a long piece of metal on an anvil, hammering away at it while turning it around. Clangs of metal hitting against metal rang out in the air, his sweat glistening from the shine of the forge’s flames.

Sparks leapt onto his skin and stubble, but he was focused and undeterred, the pain failing to faze him. There was a rhythm to his work, like he was a conductor creating a new masterpiece. Roy was captivated by his movements, his heartbeat almost syncing to the beat of the blacksmith’s hammer.

‘Chamir Tordarroch

Age: 45 years old

Gender: Male

Status: Master blacksmith (Possesses blacksmithing skills on par with the dwarves. A master in armoring and weaponsmithing).’

***

There was a forge, anvil, whetstone, and workstation around him. Aside from that, there were also gardening tools and necessities like nails, a plough, bolts, rims, a hoe, a scythe, and pots and pans.

A few mercenaries and warriors stood around the smithy, covered in chainmail, brigandine, or fur armor. The men were decked out with all manners of weapon or carrying a circular shield on their backs. They were also wearing winged helms.

The men’s eyes were glued to the master blacksmith, their harried and tired eyes filled with anticipation. Anticipation for the creation of a new, powerful weapon.

And then the final strike. Chamir took away the metal that was starting to look like a sword.

The witcher stepped into the smithy, passing by all the men outside. The mercenaries did not stop him. Instead, they gave the witcher looks of mockery and disdain.

“Hello, Chamir. My name is Auckes, here on a visit. The reputation of your clan’s blacksmithing skills precedes y—”

Chamir took his cotton gloves off and turned his attention to the witcher. With a voice as firm as the movements of his work, he said, “Sorry, but the foundry’s been inflicted with a heavy blow lately. We can’t use the best forge to create the best weapons. No good item, I’m afraid. Only regular ones, and you have some rules to follow. Get to the back of the line.” There was a hint of exhaustion in his eyes.

“To be honest, I’m not here to purchase anything.” Roy shook his head, and he requested, “I’d like to employ the services of your clan’s better blacksmiths—you, for example—and have them work in another place. I can pay handsomely.”

“Sorry, but that’s not possible. There are only three good blacksmiths left in the family right now. For generations, we’ve lived in Undvik. Used to everything this place has to offer. From its environment to the food. Can’t go anywhere else,” Chamir refused adamantly. “The king himself and Crach of Clan Craite has tried to employ our services, but we refused. Not to mention two of our kin are missing.”

A man with a big forehead and an even bigger nose roared raucously. “Am I hearing things? The blasted punk thinks he can employ a master blacksmith’s services? He’d be lucky to even purchase any of Clan Tordarroch’s items!”

“That’s enough, lad. Yer making a fool outta yerself,” a monster hunter said.

Another burly man with chainmail armor and a warhammer roared, “Yer skinnier than me arm. Betcha can’t even swing me hammer, and ya think ya can pass Chamir’s trial? Get outta here before ye make a fool of yerself!”

The men outside were jeering and mocking the young witcher, but he ignored them. “I am of course not as influential as King Bran himself, but I also have a few blacksmiths back at my place. They would love to talk about the art of the trade over a few mugs of beer. And I am in possession of a precious blacksmithing component. Undvik, no, the isles, no. Not even the whole Continent has ever seen something quite like that, and I believe any blacksmith worth their salt would be interested in what I have to offer.” Roy clenched his teeth and opened up his hand, revealing a piece of bone the size of his fist and a scale with a hue darker than night. The bone was covered with minute and exquisite runes.

Chamir’s unfazed expression was wiped off. He then carefully and nervously took the dragon scale and bone from Roy, holding it millimeters away from his face. Moments later, the master blacksmith was breathing heavily.

The men outside the shop stopped bickering among themselves too, and then another man came out from a room within the smithy. He had golden hair that tumbled down his shoulders, and he donned expensive clothes. A young, lithe girl bobbed up and down while on the man’s back, her ponytail swinging happily.

“What is it, Chamir? Another troublema—” And the man’s eyes were fixed on the items his companion was holding, unable to look away. As if caught in a spell, he tried to figure out what manner of beast the scale and bone were gleaned from, and he muttered under his breath, “Ore? No. Is it a bone? Not that either. Or is it alloy? No, no, no. I’ve never seen something quite like this. This needs a more thorough inspection. We need a more professional tool for this. A moment, please, Auckes. We’ll be right back.”

The blacksmiths quickly went into the room with the components even before Roy could give them permission.

Roy shook his head. He then turned his attention to the young lady, and his eyes shone, a little smile curling his lips. Yoana. Roy knew this girl. Nine years down the line, she would be working for a dwarf in Crow’s Perch. Nine years later, she would become a master blacksmith. Now she was but a fifteen-year-old girl. She would have a slightly freckled face in the future, but now her skin was as smooth as porcelain. Despite her youthful looks, her Blacksmithing was already at Level 8. Talented. Very talented. She’ll be a master blacksmith for sure.

The witcher’s passionate gaze did not scare the girl. Instead, she puffed her chest. “Trying to get your hands on the world’s best gear, Auckes? Then you must first prove your caliber as a warrior, or you’re nothing but another scallywag who can only buy the regular items.”

“I see.” Curiosity flared within Roy’s heart. “How should I prove my caliber, then? I heard your clan always comes up with a trial?”

Yoana turned around and pursed her lips, worry flitting in her eyes. “The best blacksmith of the family, Farik, led four warriors into the foundry and mine in the northern mountains. They were supposed to make something out of the components, yet they never came back. And then Okala gathered another team to search for them, and they didn’t come back either. I suspect we have a monster infestation there.”

She took a deep breath and raised her voice, “If you can find my uncles and take them back, dead or alive, then we will create a piece of the best gear you can ever find, free of charge. But of course, should my uncles be dead, then you must avenge them.”

The hunter outside interrupted, “I say ye stay outta this, lad. Two fully-armed teams charged into the mine in search for them missing Tordarrochs, and none came back. From what I’ve heard, them warriors are veterans. Experienced. Powerful. Killed even ekhidnas and erynias too, but they ain’t even got a chance to come back with news. That mine in the north is a danger zone now. No one in Undvik’s gonna go there. Think it through. Them gear might be great, but it ain’t worth throwing your life away for.”

Roy mused over it. From what I know, the ice giant hibernating in the mountains won’t wake until a few years later. Only then will it start to attack human settlements and kidnap the people and their livestock. That’s the reason this whole place turned into hell. If the ice giant had woken up at this point, the coast and this whole village would’ve been destroyed. “Perhaps they ran into something else.”

***

“Auckes.” Chamir’s father and Yoana’s father came out of their room, reluctantly handing the components back to Roy. “What manner of beast did you get these from? They’re of better quality than any components I know.”

“If I give you the answer and let you do whatever you want with these components, will you let one of your blacksmiths come with me to Novigrad?” Roy asked.

“A tempting offer, but we’re sorry.” The blacksmiths exchanged a look and shook their heads. “Our clan is getting smaller by the day, and we can’t afford to lose any more members.”

Roy scanned his EXP bar. Filled. He had confidence, and he asked, “What if I were to search for Farik and Okala and come back with them? I can’t guarantee they’ll be alive, but I’ll bring them back.”

Chamir froze for a moment. In disbelief, he asked, “Is that a joke? That is reckless bravado, not bravery. Charging into the mountains alone is nothing short of a suicide mission.”

“Unparalleled bravery. That’s what the Isles are famous for. If I were to die, then I have nothing but my own weakness to blame.”

Chamir and Yoana’s father exchanged another look. “If you insist, then we shall only say this: you have our gratitude.” Klaf gazed at the witcher. “This is the map leading to the forge, Auckes. If you can single-handedly return with Farik and Okala, then in the name of my clan, I shall travel to Novigrad with you and take up the mantle of your personal blacksmith. I think that’s a fair enough arrangement, even with my clan’s esteem.”

“We have a deal.”

“May Freya bless you.”