The Intermediate Troll Decoction helped stabilize Berengar's injuries, but his recovery would be slow. He awoke only the next day. Due to the general lack of closeness between Berengar and the others, Eskel, having sparred with him recently, took the initiative. He diligently watched over Berengar throughout the night on a spare cot in the hall.
By breakfast time, Eskel helped a still-weak Berengar to the dining table. Despite his rough demeanor and dry, raspy voice, Berengar offered his sincere thanks to everyone, including Wayne for the healing potion. Yet, his discomfort in social settings remained evident. Even the delicious meal Wayne prepared seemed to hold little appeal. He ate silently, head bowed, devoid of any enjoyment.
The presence of this solitary figure cast a slight shadow over the usual jovial atmosphere. Conversation at the table was more subdued. It was a brief interlude, however. After breakfast, Berengar wasted no time in taking his leave. True to form, he retreated to his room, vanishing from sight for the rest of the day.
The harsh winter kept Kaer Morhen relatively incident-free. The witchers of the Wolf School filled their days with familiar routines – Gwent matches, sword practice, and delving into the castle's library to bolster their knowledge of monster hunting. Evenings at the dinner table became occasions to share monster lore and personal experiences from the past year.
News of Geralt spending a significant portion of the year with the sorceress Yennefer piqued everyone's curiosity. They peppered him with questions, eager for details about the White Wolf's life with the powerful sorceress. As Wayne listened, he couldn't shake off a vague premonition – a sense of Yennefer's strong personality and perhaps, an even stronger need for control.
Despite Geralt's outward amusement, the others held back further questions, silently offering their well wishes. As the youngest witcher, Wayne took charge of the daily cooking. Geralt handled hunting for meat and wild vegetables. Vesemir, intrigued by Wayne's past, even helped him refurbish the old vegetable garden, planting winter-hardy crops.
Lambert and Eskel tackled the more physical tasks – chopping firewood, caring for the horses, and keeping the castle's roof clear of snow and debris. In this way, they functioned like a family, sharing chores and enjoying a peaceful winter.
Beyond sword practice, studying lore, cooking, and attempting to tame White Fang, Wayne had another responsibility. Each day, he delivered a portion of their meals to Berengar's room and helped change his dressings. Vesemir, in a private conversation, had revealed Berengar's backstory. Like most witchers, Berengar was a product of hard work and tragedy.
Vesemir had rescued him as a child from a bandit raid. Orphaned and alone, Berengar was brought to Kaer Morhen. He was one of eight children who trained together, and the only one who endured the rigorous Trial of the Grasses. However, his mutations were the weakest in the group. This not only robbed him of the ability to have children but also took his childhood companions.
The harsh training and mutations also shaped Berengar's personality, making him an outsider. His subpar mutations meant he faced greater challenges on the Path than most witchers. Even seemingly simple contracts proved more difficult for him.
Vesemir's sigh spoke volumes. "Looking back," he spoke to Wayne, '" sometimes wonder if taking him in was the right choice. Perhaps an orphan's life, though harsh, wouldn't have burdened him with the pain he carries now as a witcher.'"
Unlike the others, Wayne, a witcher himself, understood Berengar's deep-seated loathing for his witcher identity. Berengar yearned for a normal life – a wife, children, a family of his own. A dream forever denied.
Decades later, the Salamanders' brutal torture forced Berengar to betray Kaer Morhen. It was a desperate choice made under the threat of death. To his credit, he later redeemed himself by sacrificing his life against the Salamanders' mages.
Being a witcher was a brutal existence. Constant danger, physical agony, and social ostracization were all part of the Path. Their enhanced lifespans meant this torment could stretch for centuries, a chilling thought.
That evening, Wayne, a plate of food in hand, pushed open the door to Berengar's room. The usually quiet man was surprisingly packing his meager belongings. He offered a curt nod upon seeing Wayne but remained silent.
Wayne placed the food on the table, his gaze lingering on Berengar's still-healing wounds. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke, perhaps overstepping his bounds. "Berengar, are you leaving tomorrow?"
Berengar paused briefly before regaining his stoic composure. "Yes," he rasped, his voice weak. "I leave tomorrow."
Wayne sighed inwardly, resigned to Berengar's decision. He had no choice but to express his thoughts before the person left.
"Leaving now is too risky, Berengar," Wayne cautioned. "Your injuries haven't fully healed, and you have no supplies, horse, or equipment. The spring thaw has just begun, and the weather's still unpredictable. You could easily collapse on the road."
Berengar stared up at Wayne, a flicker of something crossing his features before he replied, "I understand, but I need to leave as soon as possible."
Sensing Berengar's resistance, Wayne decided to be more direct. "Is this about wanting a different life, Berengar? Are you done with the Path?"
Berengar's movements hitched at the question. He slowly raised his head, his usual stoicism replaced by a flicker of vulnerability. "Why do you ask, Wayne?"
Placing the dire wolf cub on the floor, Wayne pulled up a chair and sat. "Vesemir told me about your past. It's been a life filled with hardship. Misfortune seems to follow you around."
"It's no wonder you feel this way, Berengar. Many witchers grapple with these thoughts. You're just...more vocal about it."
Berengar sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "You're young, Wayne," he rasped. "Wait until you've been a witcher for decades. You never get enough sleep, barely enough to eat, and you're constantly on the move, with no family or friends. You risk your life for ungrateful people who don't pay you, or worse, try to kill you."
Berengar's words resonated with a deep ache Wayne understood all too well. Yet, unlike Berengar, Wayne wasn't burdened by the harsh realities of the Path. His unique circumstances ensured his financial security, sparing him the misery of chasing coin.
After a thoughtful silence, Wayne carefully chose his words. "In that case, Berengar," he began, "would you consider working for me? Long-term – decades, maybe even centuries, if that's what you desire. You wouldn't have to worry about daily life or constant battles with monsters. I even have a way to mask your witcher identity, allowing you to live a semblance of a normal life."
"As long as your loyalty is unwavering, your dream might just become reality. No more financial woes, no more haggling with clients – I'll handle all that. You'd essentially be my bodyguard, ensuring my safety with your experience. There might be occasional tasks where your skills would prove invaluable, but for the most part, it would be a stable, secure position."
A confident, gentle smile softened Wayne's features. "Truth be told, while my experience as a witcher is limited, making money is something I excel at. If you accept, your new workplace would be near Vizima City. No more constant travel – you could settle into a stable life for years to come."
Berengar held Wayne's gaze for a long moment, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Finally, he rasped, a hint of disbelief in his voice, "Why me? We barely know each other. You didn't even know my name a month ago. How can you trust me so readily?"
Wayne met his gaze, his expression turning serious. "Complete trust isn't something I offer easily, Berengar. But I'm extending a chance. We're both witchers, brothers of the Wolf School. We're bound by a certain code, a sense of camaraderie. If your loyalty holds, I gain a trusted confidant, a brother-in-arms. If I'm wrong, the only loss is financial."
"The real question, Berengar, is whether you're willing to take a chance on yourself, to believe in this possibility."
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