Healing potions, mana potions, enchanted shirts that could keep warm in any season, several pouches of fragrant pipe-weed and ornate pipes, fine wine and delicacies from Middle-earth and Azeroth, and even a few magical scrolls salvaged from the legendary thunder mage, Tesla's, spatial bracelet.
However, the most voluminous items on the table were the stacks of books Wayne had acquired from Aretuza.
Witnessing the mountain of gifts and listening to Wayne's explanations, Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert were dumbfounded. Even Vesemir, usually composed, gaped at Wayne, speechless.
Lambert, ever the blunt one, exclaimed, "Bloody hell, Wayne! Which kingdom's treasury did you plunder? This lot must be worth tens of thousands of crowns!"
Wayne, with a look of amusement, gestured towards the books. "These books alone," he remarked, "cost dozens of orens each. A thousand books easily amount to tens of thousands of crowns. And that's not all. Many contain lost witcher knowledge, impossible to find on the market. Even if you could, the price would be exorbitant."
"Combined with the Hearthstones, the pouches, and these life-saving potions, the total value is probably closer to a hundred thousand crowns!"
At the mention of "a hundred thousand crowns," the witchers were dumbstruck. They gazed at Wayne as if he were a deity, a spendthrift millionaire. Even fifty thousand crowns, let alone a hundred thousand, was an astronomical sum for any witcher, a lifetime's worth of savings.
One hundred thousand crowns could buy a small town with all its inhabitants, a fortune that even kings struggled to amass. It was enough to hire a mercenary army.
Vesemir quickly composed himself. Placing a hand on Wayne's shoulder, he said, "Son, we accept your gifts, but a hundred thousand crowns, gods above. Tell me, where did you acquire such wealth? I hope you haven't put yourself in danger for these things."
Wayne patted Vesemir's arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about my finances, teacher. I may owe a bit for these items, but it's to a good friend. And I've found a new way to earn money. I'll clear the debt within the year."
He then picked up a few books from the pile, handing them to Vesemir.
"Teacher," Wayne explained, "these are Aretuza's archived research notes from Alzur and Cosimo, the legendary sorcerers who pioneered witcher mutations. With these, I can find trustworthy mages to help me lift the binding spell, upgrade our equipment, and develop more stable potions. The Trial of the Grasses won't be as deadly anymore."
"The children who join our school," he continued, "won't die needlessly like they used to."
Vesemir, holding the precious books, was moved by Wayne's vision. "Wayne, why do you do this? This burden isn't yours to bear."
Wayne's smile faded as he looked at Vesemir with a serious expression. "Teacher, I know you've always wished to perpetuate the witcher profession, to prevent its extinction. But we can't ignore the Trial's mortality rate. We can't allow more children to die in vain."
"My goal," he continued, "goes beyond mere survival. We protect people and earn our keep. It's a profession worthy of respect. Yet, due to slander and prejudice, we've become pariahs, subjected to baseless accusations and abuse. I want witchers to earn the respect and status they deserve. I want my brothers to live fulfilling lives."
"To achieve this," he declared, "we must become stronger, more united, and more powerful. I don't seek to create more witchers, but to unite those who exist, so we can claim what is rightfully ours and improve everyone's lives."
Wayne's words left the witchers with mixed emotions. They realized this young witcher was unlike any they had known. Most witchers, after surviving the trials, were resigned to a life of drifting, their outlook bleak, their days passing in a haze. Few possessed Wayne's hope for the future or the ambition to change the world's perception of their kind.
Vesemir, leafing through the books, wore a complex expression. The other witchers, too, regarded Wayne with a newfound respect. After a moment of silence, the old witcher spoke in a grave tone.
"Wayne, have you truly thought this through? It is a daunting path you envision. The witcher's decline isn't solely due to the dwindling monster population, but a multitude of factors. Uniting different schools and consolidating our power will create many enemies. The challenges you face will be innumerable."
"While I yearn for the witcher legacy to endure," Vesemir continued, "I cannot burden you young ones with that responsibility. I witnessed the witcher's golden age and its gradual decline. Yet, if you are willing to shoulder this burden, I will not hinder you, Wayne."
"You are still young. Take a few years to gain more experience, and then tell me your decision."
As the old witcher's words faded, a strange melody echoed in Wayne's mind.
Following the melody, a soft chime sounded in Wayne's mind.
Mission Triggered: [Rebuilding the Witcher Order]
Ding! Epic missions are staged reward missions, divided into difficulty-based stages. Each completed stage yields a reward. The host decides when to complete the final stage. Based on overall mission completion, the final reward ranges from 30% to 300%.
Current Progress: 0/10
Next Stage Reward: 300 experience, Master Chest x1
Wayne, momentarily stunned by the unique mission structure, quickly calculated the potential rewards. Completing the quest at the highest 300% level could net him over 10,000 experience points, nine Master Chests, and three Epic Chests. The contents of those chests were unknown, but the experience alone could propel him eight or nine levels higher.
Besides, rebuilding the Witcher Order was a personal goal for Wayne, beyond simply improving life for Vesemir and the Wolf School. He knew that as he ventured into more dangerous and complex worlds, completing difficult tasks—like dealing with entire armies, nations, or even races—would require more than just his own strength. He needed allies, subordinates, to ease the burden.
Wayne, calming his excitement, addressed Vesemir. He didn't dismiss the old witcher's suggestion of taking time to consider. The mission was accepted, and there was no rush. With a sincere expression, he said, "Teacher, rest assured, I won't act rashly. I understand that revitalizing the witcher profession isn't a task accomplished overnight, or even in a few years."
"It may take years, decades, or even my entire life," Wayne continued. "I am prepared for that. Regardless of my ultimate decision, I will start small, making gradual improvements to our lives."
He gestured towards the pile of books. "Retrieving these is just the first step. Next year, or the year after, I'll hire trustworthy workers to renovate Kaer Morhen, bolstering its defenses."
"In the future," he vowed, "I'll extend a helping hand to fellow witchers from other schools, convincing them to see the value in unity."
"Don't worry about finances," Wayne assured them. "I've secured a stable income. In fact, I could single-handedly support all the remaining witchers if needed."
"By then, teacher," he said to Vesemir, "you can remain here, overseeing the renovations."
Turning to Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel, Wayne smiled. "You've all tolerated this dilapidated keep for far too long, haven't you?"
The others, snapping out of their reverie, exchanged glances. They held varying opinions on Wayne's plan, but as seniors, they wouldn't outright oppose their younger counterpart's aspirations.
That evening, Wayne treated them to a feast of delicacies, both from the witcher world and his travels. The witchers drank, ate, and conversed late into the night, but their minds buzzed with Wayne's revelations.
A week passed swiftly at Kaer Morhen. Wayne spent his days practicing swordplay, signs, and delving into the books he'd brought back. Life in the old keep, while simple, was never dull.
One afternoon, Wayne found Vesemir by the fire, engrossed in Alzur's notes. He presented a vial containing an unfamiliar blue substance and made a request.
Vesemir listened, then responded with hesitation, "Wayne, it's been less than four years since your initial witcher mutations. Are you certain about undergoing a Greater Blue Mutagen transplant now?"
"Eskel only underwent the Red Mutagen transplant last year, and that was because his mutations had stabilized, allowing him to adapt to further changes," Vesemir continued. "I believe it's too soon for you. Please reconsider."
Vesemir hadn't lowered his voice, and his words drew the attention of the other witchers in the hall. Lambert, having lost his coin in Gwent and relegated to watching Geralt and Eskel play, perked up at the conversation. He strode over, picking up the vial containing the Greater Blue Mutagen.
"Well, well," he mused, a smirk on his face, "what have we here?"
"Another Greater Mutagen, and a rare blue one at that! You lucky devil, Wayne. I've completed countless contracts, slain a myriad of beasts, and seen plenty of standard mutagens, but never a Greater one." Lambert's eyes gleamed with envy. "What monster did you pry this from?"
Wayne's face remained impassive. "An ancient leshen," he replied, "a contract from Triss just before we faced Dagon."
Geralt and Eskel, abandoning their card game, joined the conversation. Eskel, noting Vesemir's concerned expression, reassured Wayne, "Don't worry, just give it a few more years. Vesemir is looking out for you."
"When I underwent the Greater Red Mutagen transplant," Eskel continued, "it was grueling, a tremendous strain. Every mutation is a gamble for us witchers. Proceed with caution."
Sensing their concern, Wayne decided to reveal his trump card to allay their fears. "Teacher," he addressed Vesemir with a resolute expression, "don't worry about the risks of the transplant."
"I haven't told you this before, but I received a divine blessing from the Lady of the Lake. It was a powerful purification ritual, healing hidden wounds and harmonizing my genes. I've become her knight, my body enhanced beyond that of ordinary witchers."
Wayne turned to his fellow witchers, his gaze lingering on Lambert. "I'm not boasting, but my physical abilities are currently the strongest among us. Strength, speed, reflexes, even my mastery of chaos magic, all far exceed your expectations."
"If you still doubt me," Wayne challenged, "I can spar with Lambert and demonstrate my growth this past year."
...
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