Upon seeing the familiar figure standing in the yard, Wayne leapt down, waving his right hand adorned with a spatial bracelet at the magic flying carpet hovering above. The carpet obediently shrunk and vanished into the bracelet.
Wayne was clad in a magnificent set of dragonscale armor, with a dark golden bracer on his left arm and several sparkling jeweled rings and bracelets on his right. His back bore no weapons, only a short sword etched with magical runes hanging from his belt.
Though frost from his long flight through the cold winds still clung to his armor, he cut an imposing figure, his attire rivaling that of any dashing adventurer from a novel.
Vesemir surveyed Wayne's extravagant gear with a mixture of pride and concern. This was only his second year as a witcher—what on earth had his young apprentice gotten himself into? Had he plundered a dragon's hoard or raided a royal treasury? Though the old witcher couldn't identify the specific pieces of Wayne's equipment beyond recognizing the green dragon leather, his keen witcher senses detected the potent magical aura emanating from them. Clearly, each item was a formidable artifact. The young witcher's gains over the past year had far exceeded anyone's expectations.
After storing the flying carpet, Wayne brushed aside the old witcher's conflicted expression and gave him a hearty bear hug, affectionately patting his back as he exclaimed,
"I'm back, Vesemir!" Wayne exclaimed, embracing the old witcher. It had been a year since they last saw each other. Whether due to the awakening of his Elder Blood or the natural talent for magic he possessed, Wayne had grown taller, and his physique was no longer as slender as a typical elf's. While not exactly a mountain of muscle, his body was now lean and strong, the embodiment of a tall and heroic figure. Compared to him, ordinary elves seemed almost delicate. Even Vesemir no longer towered over him.
The old witcher returned the embrace, patting Wayne's back affectionately. "Alright, lad, head inside. It's cold out here, and everyone's waiting for you."
Inside the castle hall, as expected, several members of the Wolf School were gathered around the fireplace. Geralt and Lambert were engrossed in a game of Gwent, while Eskel was immersed in a book detailing the lore of succubi.
Upon seeing Wayne enter with Vesemir, the outspoken Lambert immediately set aside his losing Gwent hand and exclaimed, "Well, look who it is! The esteemed Master Wayne!"
"I thought some sorceress had you ensnared and wouldn't let you return." He quipped, "Her name was Keira, wasn't it? The petite one with the haughty air?"
Geralt, with his typically stoic expression, cracked a slight smile. "No, I heard from Yennefer that another red-haired sorceress stole Wayne's heart. Our young master seems to be juggling two sorceresses now. Perhaps he's so caught up in their charms that he's delayed his return."
After hearing the loudmouths' words, even Eskel, who was usually preoccupied with succubus lore, raised his head. "Don't these sorceresses know that Wayne is only nineteen? Given a half-elf's lifespan, they're practically cradle-robbing." Geralt and Lambert burst into laughter. Lambert winked at Eskel, "Old man, don't underestimate Wayne. He's far more adept with women than you."
"Remember when we battled Dagon beneath the lake?" Lambert continued, "You might've missed it, but I saw it clear as day. While we fought, Wayne and Triss were hidden away with Yennefer, sharing a passionate kiss. If we hadn't been in the thick of it, they might have taken things further."
Geralt, putting down his Gwent cards, gave Eskel a knowing look. "When it comes to women, that boy Wayne has a certain charm. We met a beautiful elf in the ruins of the elven city. Wayne only met her twice before she was smitten. The way she looked at him, it was definitely more than just lust. She was infatuated."
The walk from the castle hall's door to the hearth felt agonizingly long for Wayne. Overhearing the witcher's gossip, he felt mortified, like a stag caught in a spotlight.
He even sensed the old witcher beside him giving him an odd look, as if appraising a notorious playboy. Wayne quickened his pace, outdistancing Vesemir, and made his way to a table by the fireplace. Slamming a hand down, he waited for everyone's attention. With a slightly forced smile, he began, "Brothers, mentor, my late return wasn't due to any frivolous pursuits. I've brought gifts for you all, things you've never seen before, guaranteed to surprise you."
The mention of gifts, especially those handpicked by Wayne, piqued their interest. Even Geralt and the others, who typically weren't materialistic, perked up. They gathered around the table. Lambert whistled, Eskel reluctantly set down his book, and even Vesemir looked at Wayne with curiosity, wondering what novelty the young witcher had brought back.
Wayne, enjoying the anticipation, chuckled and flicked his wrist, revealing a spatial bracelet. Four small black leather pouches materialized on the table. The pouches, though unassuming, were made of an unfamiliar, fine leather and resembled ordinary belt pouches.
Keeping his companions in suspense, Wayne maintained a mysterious smile. He reached for one pouch, opened it, and revealed its contents. A gasp escaped Vesemir's lips, followed by similar reactions from the others. Lambert, ever the quickest to speak, blurted out.
"What in the blazes? How's the space inside so much bigger than it looks? Is it a magic item like your bracelet?"
Wayne, without boasting, nodded and confirmed, "Exactly. These pouches are enchanted, with about ten times the capacity of ordinary ones. You can't fit weapons, but there's plenty of room for bombs, potions, and other small supplies. It'll make a huge difference in battle, improving your endurance. And best of all, the contents become weightless. You could fill it with gold and it wouldn't weigh you down."
Lambert's eyes sparkled. "This is brilliant!"
These pouches were, in fact, common spatial items in Azeroth. Crafted by mages, they were similar to the 'eight-slot bags' in the game, each holding one-sixteenth of a cubic meter. They required both expert tailoring and advanced arcane techniques. As the cheapest and most popular magic items, they were readily available in magic shops. Wayne had bought ten, each costing ten Azeroth gold coins, equivalent to two hundred orens. Yet, in the witcher world, even a thousand orens wouldn't guarantee such a find.
Vesemir picked up another pouch, his expression a mix of surprise and wonder. He examined it closely before remarking, "Is this the work of a genius sorcerer? The craftsmanship is remarkable. I've seen very few items like this in my lifetime. To see so many at once suggests significant advancements in their magic."
Eskel, too, picked up a pouch, inspecting it carefully before adding,
"Wayne," Eskel began, "are you sure about this? These must be valuable artifacts. We appreciate your generosity, but as your elders, it feels a bit... well, embarrassing to always be on the receiving end."
Wayne waved off the concern, not delving into explanations. While he intended to reveal his interdimensional travels eventually, now wasn't the time. "Think nothing of it, brothers. Just as I needed your help against Dagon, I'll likely need it again in the future. Besides," he added with a shrug, "you're the closest thing I have to family. Isn't sharing good fortune what family does?"
His words, though simple, struck a chord with the other witchers. They were men of action, not prone to sentimentality, but Wayne's straightforwardness resonated. Only an extrovert like him could express such heartfelt sentiments so effortlessly.
Geralt, closest to Wayne among his peers, unceremoniously claimed a pouch, attaching it to his belt. "Don't worry, Wayne," he grinned, "I won't stand on ceremony. This is a damn fine gift, perfect for a witcher."
The others followed suit, each taking a pouch and securing it to their belts. Wayne nodded in satisfaction, then produced four palm-sized round stones from his bracelet. They bore strange magical patterns, characteristic of Azeroth's Hearthstones.
Lambert, ever the impulsive one, was the first to speak. "What are these, Wayne? Rune stones? I've heard of them enhancing weapons."
With a mysterious smile, Wayne picked up a Hearthstone, weighing it in his hand. He began to explain.
"These aren't mere commodities like rune stones, but powerful magic items," Wayne clarified. "Truthfully, I used to dread the months spent traveling across countries to return to Kaer Morhen every year. But with these, you can return from anywhere in the Northern Kingdoms in minutes. Thousands of miles are no obstacle."
Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel looked at Wayne with a mix of disbelief and astonishment. Vesemir, however, seemed less skeptical. He stroked his beard, picked up a Hearthstone, and examined it closely. Despite his experience, the old witcher lacked the scholarly expertise to discern anything unusual about the otherworldly stone.
"Is this like a sorcerer's portal?" Vesemir inquired, puzzled. "I don't sense any magical fluctuations. If you hadn't mentioned its properties, I'd mistake it for a common rock."
Wayne wasn't surprised by this reaction. New concepts took time to digest. He picked up a Hearthstone and, facing his companions, explained its functions, usage, and precautions in detail.
"With these," he concluded proudly, "we'll save months of travel each year. And in emergencies, we can instantly gather at Kaer Morhen. It's not just for travel, but also for escape. What do you think?"
The others stared at the Hearthstones in a daze. Had anyone other than Wayne introduced these items, they would have assumed a scam.
But this was Wayne, the most remarkable young witcher of the Wolf School. Shocking feats were hardly out of character for him.
The others remained deep in thought, but Vesemir was the first to break the silence. He stroked his beard, a touch of emotion in his voice. "If this is as wondrous as you claim, Wayne, you've done me a great service. I'm old now, and the yearly travels wear on me. With this, I could remain at the keep, venturing out no more."
Vesemir's sentiment resonated with the others. They showered Wayne with praise for his thoughtful gifts. The ability to return home at will was a dream come true for these witchers, who held a deep attachment to Kaer Morhen. Accepting these gifts, they vowed to find something equally impressive for Wayne next year. After all, it wouldn't do for the elders to be outdone by their young counterpart.
Just as they thought Wayne's generosity had reached its peak, he waved his hand over the table once more. The previously empty surface was now laden with a plethora of objects.
"Hold on, hold on," Wayne chuckled, "there's plenty more where that came from. Let me introduce them one by one."