"Wayne, where have you been? Back so late?" Triss greeted Wayne as he returned to her family's mansion that evening. Despite her question, her alluring rose scent and the way her cool, ambiguous eyes lingered on him in her elegant dress revealed her true desires. The afternoon's fleeting pleasure hadn't sated her. Unlike Keira, who favored luxury and romance and possessed a headstrong nature, Triss, older and a royal advisor, had a personality akin to a clingy kitten—docile yet mischievous, always exuding an endearing flirtatiousness. She craved closeness and the feeling of being loved.
Wayne opened the door, allowing Triss in her light purple silk coat to enter his room. "It's nothing, Triss," he replied. "After bathing, I noticed my magic felt stronger, even the witcher Signs I cast. So, I went to the wilderness to test them."
Triss's eyes had been fixed on Wayne's physique, her face flushed as she anticipated the night ahead. But his words piqued her sorceress instincts. She unconsciously used her perception abilities to examine him, then exclaimed in surprise, "Oh my god, Wayne! Your affinity for chaos and magical talent are incredible!"
"I hadn't realized it before," she continued. "Gods, most students at Aretuza couldn't compare to you."
Even without a formal test, Triss sensed the immense well of chaotic magic within Wayne, far exceeding that of an ordinary witcher. A blush crept back onto her face as she recalled her afternoon with him, her magic-sensitive body reacting to his touch.
Though not well-versed in sorcerers lore, Wayne's studies at Kaer Morhen had given him a better understanding than most. He pondered for a moment, then said, "Perhaps I have a sorcerer's talent. But the witcher mutations might have masked it until now."
"I am eighteen this year," he added. "Being half-elven, maybe my awakening was delayed."
"Eighteen!" Triss exclaimed again. Having mistaken the ageless witcher for at least thirty, she was taken aback. The thought of her earlier behavior in the bath filled her with a mix of shame and excitement.
Her mind was a bit muddled, her body flushed, but her sorceress instincts guided her explanation: "Typically, children with magical talent exhibit deformities or worse due to the chaotic magic accumulating within them from a young age."
"When that magic reaches its limit, it erupts under certain triggers, often leading to irreversible tragedy," she continued. "Without proper guidance, their lives are usually quite difficult."
"Perhaps the witcher trials, the Signs training from childhood, helped you," Triss speculated. "Even though Signs aren't true spells, they might have relieved the build-up of chaotic magic, preventing your body from being warped."
While not entirely accurate, her explanation aligned with sorcerers theories. Hearing her unintentional defense, Wayne offered a charming smile. "Maybe that's it. Speaking of which, Triss, since I have magic potential, could you teach me about magic?"
"Of course," he added with a playful glint in his eyes. "Not for free, though. I'd like you to be my magic tutor. Compensation is negotiable, you know my character."
Triss's smile deepened as she looked at him mischievously. A thought seemed to strike her, and she chuckled, walking over to playfully poke his well-defined muscles. "I'll consider your request carefully, Wayne," she replied, her voice laced with playful intrigue.
"Haha, but if you want to be my little apprentice, you'll have to work harder to convince me..."
...
After a night of passionate effort, Wayne's persistence paid off. Triss promised that upon returning to Vizima, he could access her private library and she would answer any questions he had about magic. This wasn't charity, though. In return, he would be responsible for their dinners whenever he stayed at her place.
Wayne readily agreed to this arrangement, seeing it as a way to deepen their connection. While mastering sorcerer's abilities typically took decades, he had confidence in his potential as a Source warlock. As a conduit of chaotic magic, he could advance far more rapidly than ordinary sorcerers. Plus, with the system's aid, he believed it wouldn't be long before his power rivaled even the strongest witchers.
However, Wayne knew he had to keep his Source status and the awakening of Elder Blood a secret. Both were highly coveted treasures, and even with great power, he couldn't risk being targeted by those with ill intentions. Exposing himself would only lead to endless conspiracies and threats.
The next day, Wayne and Triss spent a delightful time exploring Maribor, shopping for jewelry and other gifts she desired. They enjoyed each other's company like a pair of young lovers on a romantic getaway.
That evening, Wayne and Triss attended a dinner at the Duke of Maribor's residence. The corpulent duke, in his fifties, had resolved their troublesome matter within a single day. He praised their efficiency and presented Triss with the promised reward.
To Wayne's surprise, the reward amounted to only a thousand crowns, a sum unbefitting of a royal advisor. However, Triss later explained that the gold was merely a token, and the true reward lay in shares of the mine.
Impressed by the power of the Leshen they had vanquished, the Duke had relinquished 5% of the mine's shares to Triss, on the condition that she would handle any future security issues promptly. These shares would revert back to him upon her death or if she became unable to protect the mine.
While 5% might seem small, the mine's vastness meant annual dividends exceeding two hundred thousand crowns, providing Triss with a steady income for years to come. It was a generous reward indeed.
Triss, being kind and generous, acknowledged Wayne's greater contribution to the task. She gave him the entire thousand crowns as his share, while keeping the mine shares that came with responsibilities.
Wayne had no objections. He appreciated Triss's fairness, a stark contrast to the stingy patrons other witchers often encountered. This thousand crowns, earned in just a few days, far surpassed the meager earnings of those who relied on collecting bounties from often-defaulting peasants.
Of course, even a thousand crowns was a fair price to pay for eliminating a powerful Leshen. Had the duke employed ordinary soldiers, the cost would have been far greater.