In the backyard of Wayne's house, the old witcher Vesemir was up early. Wayne, just risen himself, found him in the blacksmith's workshop with Berengar and George from the Griffin School, their heads bent together, murmuring over some equipment blueprints.
As the saying goes, necessity is the mother of invention. Having dealt with blacksmiths for decades, even centuries, and spent a fortune on repairs and new gear, most older witchers had become quite knowledgeable about blacksmithing, even if they weren't professional smiths themselves. This was why each witcher school possessed its own treasured blueprints for masterwork equipment. These valuable legacies were crafted by past witchers, honed through experience and incremental improvements.
As the grandmaster of the Wolf School and a witcher nearing three centuries old, Vesemir undoubtedly possessed unparalleled experience. His understanding of swords and armor surpassed most. Perhaps he could even create his own set of masterwork blueprints.
Lambert and Eskel, on the other hand, were less diligent. Since arriving at Wayne's mansion, they had happily taken over his daily duties. With Wayne's warehouse stocked with all manner of alchemical bombs, the brothers, unused to such abundance, gleefully brought a large supply to the shores of Lake Vizima each day.
wreaking havoc on the underwater city. The fish weren't spared either. After each explosive fishing session, the brothers returned with a bounty of fresh catches. The diligent Lala turned them into salted fish and dried them in the backyard, resulting in a vast, pungent display. Lambert even declared his intention to take hundreds of pounds of dried fish with him when leaving Vizima, not just for sustenance but also as a potential bartering tool for gold in a pinch. Eskel, also accustomed to hardship, agreed, seeing the value in having salted fish on hand during their travels.
Wayne paid little attention to the antics of his lively brothers. Instead, he dressed in his finest attire and mounted Lucifer, preparing for a trip to the swamp village. Today was the day he would meet with the Lady of the Lake.
Perhaps due to the combined efforts of Triss, Keira, and Yennefer, the three sorceresses had swiftly completed the underwater breathing enchantment Wayne had requested. Though untested in combat, this newfound weapon eliminated any need for further delay. After formally reporting to the Lady of the Lake, the final battle would commence the following day.
With a farewell to his household, Wayne rode towards the swamp village, where he found the Fisher King leisurely fishing by the lake.
The enigmatic Fisher King didn't seem surprised by Wayne's arrival, merely inquiring, "What brings you here, champion of the goddess?"
Wayne didn't waste words with the mysterious figure. "I have matters to discuss with Her Majesty, the Lady," he stated simply. "Please take me to Black Tern Island."
Hearing this, the Fisher King simply gazed deeply at Wayne, then silently packed up his fishing gear, led him onto the boat, and rowed towards Black Tern Island. Stopping at the shore, he calmly instructed, "Proceed alone. I'll wait for you here."
After thanking him, Wayne confidently strode into the familiar forest. With the Hekena Amulet gifted by the Druid Elder, no wild beasts dared to attack him, ensuring a safe journey.
Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the dense trees, finding himself at the enchanting lakeside clearing. This time, Wayne didn't use the goddess's ring to summon her. As he approached the lake, he felt a mysterious aura enveloping the area.
Soon, the Lady of the Lake, her form beautiful and holy, rose from the water's surface. Her face was exquisite, her figure flawless, her eyes as clear and blue as the lake itself. Wayne exhaled softly, lowered his head, and whispered, "Praise to you, beautiful Lady of the Lake."
The Lady of the Lake gracefully walked towards him, her red lips parting to speak in an ethereal voice, "There's no need for formalities, my warrior. You sought me out. What is your purpose?"
Faced with the goddess, there was no need for pretense or politeness. Wayne raised his head, admiring the goddess's beautiful figure beneath the veil. "Your Majesty, the Lady," he began, "I have gathered a group of skilled warriors and three powerful sorceresses."
"We will launch our attack on the evil god's underwater lair tomorrow, aiming to eradicate this hidden threat once and for all."
"We are fully prepared, and I came to inform you of our plans," he concluded.
Whether the Lady of the Lake was already aware of these developments was unclear. Upon hearing Wayne's report, a gentle smile, like a spring breeze, graced her beautiful face. For a moment, the warmth of her smile even touched Wayne's heart.
The goddess met his gaze and spoke softly, "You are undertaking a noble task, my warrior."
She then cupped Wayne's face, drawing him into her embrace, and tenderly kissed his forehead. A delicate fragrance, like orchids blooming in a secluded valley, filled his senses. He could almost feel the warmth of her smooth skin beneath the veil, the gentle pressure of her lips leaving a faint mark on his forehead.
The moment was fleeting. Releasing Wayne, the goddess continued in her soft voice, "I have bestowed upon you the protection of the lake. In tomorrow's battle, my power will shield you from the evil god's influence. May you vanquish his vile avatar."
"I eagerly await your victory, my warrior," she concluded. "Upon your triumph, I shall grant you the reward you deserve."
With those final words, the Lady of the Lake gracefully retreated to the center of the lake, vanishing beneath the surface as Wayne watched. Only after she had completely disappeared did he offer a respectful bow towards the lake before turning to leave the forest.
The Lady of the Lake remained as beautiful, aloof, and ethereal as ever, like the idealized maiden of every man's dreams. Yet, she was undeniably different from ordinary women, possessing a certain divinity that made desire for her feel almost blasphemous.
But perhaps it was that very unattainability that fueled Wayne's curiosity. The thought of witnessing a wider range of emotions on the Lady's serene face was undeniably intriguing, even tempting him to test the boundaries.
Lost in these unconventional thoughts, Wayne returned to the Fisher King's boat. The battle was imminent, and he needed to dedicate more time and effort to ensure its flawless execution. To that end, he planned to meet someone he had often considered but never visited: the Druid Elder, Keynster.
His reluctance to seek out the old man stemmed partly from a lack of time, but also from his inability to locate Keynster's Druid Circle. Fortunately, with the help of his fellow Wolf School witchers, this task had fallen to the ever-bored Geralt. True to his reputation, it took the White Wolf only a few days to pinpoint the circle's hidden location within the forest.
As Wayne emerged from the swamp village, Geralt was already waiting by the roadside, astride his loyal steed, Roach.