Chapter 561: Birth

Chapter 561: Birth

Chapter 561: Birth

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

Kaer Morhen. A towering fortress sleeping within the snow-capped Blue Mountains. It was almost deserted and in disrepair for decades, but now new life was breathed into it. The leaves and weeds piling up in the courtyard were cleaned away, and the training grounds saw new stakes, pendulums, and dummies installed in it. The rundown benches, observation deck, and walls were refurbished and repainted. The towers were gleaming under the sunlight.

In a stark room, a pair of sorceresses lived. They leaned on the windowsill, staring at the snowy expanse beyond the fortress.

"It's been a month since you came here, Lydia. How do you feel now?" Coral looked at the woman on her left.

She was slender, and her chestnut colored hair was tied in a bun behind her head. Lydia had taken off the mask she'd worn for twenty years, revealing her true face. The top half radiated intelligence and elegance. Her brows were light as ink dipped in water, her eyes bright and quiet as a still pond in a forest. Her nose was petite, and her lips were lusciously pink.

However, from the chin down to her neck, Lydia's appearance was a nightmare. Burn marks, scabs, and cysts were everywhere, and one of her arms was prosthetic.

"I'm really sorry, Coral." Lydia's voice was hoarse and scraping. Her vocal cords were severely damaged. "I've served him for twenty years. He was my master, my everything, and my reason to live." Lydia's eyes were glistening with tears. "I-I can't forget about him."

"I know. Vilgefortz was an incredible man. Dashing, capable, and magically gifted," said Coral. "But he would never have fallen in love with anyone. He only loved himself. You heard his answer to Roy's question. He never saw you as more than a tool. You committed evil despite what your conscience told you, all because of him. You have blood on your hands, but unlike Vilgefortz and his cohorts, you still have a conscience. That's why Roy spared you."

The mention of that witcher left conflicting feelings in Lydia's heart. She looked at her almost lifelike prosthetic, and her heart swelled with hatred and gratitude. Roy brought an end to her life of servitude, but now she did not know where the future lay.

Coral gazed at her fellow sorceress and persuaded, "He's been dead for months now. No longer can he exploit you or your feelings for him. It is time to let go, Lydia. Live for yourself."

Lydia looked at Coral, a little dazed. The older sorceress wrapped her arm around Lydia's shoulder. "Kaer Morhen is a beautiful place. We can look into the legacy Vilgefortz left behind. And with the children around, there'll never be a dull moment. Now I need you to prepare some mutagens and herbs. He'll need it when he comes back," said Coral.

"Okay."

***

Eskel stood atop the wooden scaffolding overseeing the broken parapet. He slapped bricks into the missing parts. Most of the walls had been filled in. The succubus was by his side, donned in thick cotton clothes. She handed him a canteen.

Eskel took a sip and smiled at the succubus.

The apprentice witchers stared at the couple, and righteous anger flared in their eyes.

"Stop staring, Monti. Focus on the job, and pick up the pace. You're slow as a snail. Didn't sleep last night?"

"Last night? I haven't slept well for two months. Carl hugs me every night like I'm Vicki. Almost suffocated me, the guy."

Someone coughed.

"I thought Kaer Morhen had everything." Monti had dark circles under his eyes. He grumbled, "There's nothing but empty stone houses here, and we had to sleep on the same bed."

"And we had to make it ourselves too," Charname grumbled.

"Hey, this isn't fair. Why do we have to work on the buildings?" Acamuthorm swung his wooden trowel in agitation. "We wanna go on a trip like everybody else."

"Yeah. We're not carpenters. We should be training. Casting Signs. Not cutting wood," Charname complained while he and Lloyd were pulling the saw back and forth in sync, cutting off the wood of the scaffolding.

Serrit and Auckes were making a wooden bed about six feet six inches long. They had the base down, and the witchers were immersed in the job, as if they were professional carpenters.

"We almost refurbished the whole place in two months. Don't you think this is the kind of achievement we should be proud of?"

The apprentices were particularly annoyed about that. They'd been working on repairs and refurbishments for two months, and without any pay too. All the expectations they had prior to this trip were dashed.

"And you've seen everything around this place. Heard all the stories too. And you've visited your predecessors' graves."

Eskel shook his head, carefully sliding a triangular brick into a triangular hole. "The cyclop's dead. Only his skeleton remains. Bears are in hibernation too, given the season. The harpies aren't showing up either, and Carl's dealt with the foglet. You can go sightseeing, but that's just boring. Woodworking and masonry's more fun to learn."

Serrit tucked his knife away and took out a file from the toolkit beside him. "And you can at least have a job when you retire from being a witcher." The witcher cut the wood, creating a piece of art from the simple material he had.

"But Roy said there's a family of trolls on that mountain. He said you could talk to them if they get a bit of vodka. We didn't get to talk to them last time." Carl looked at the confusing blueprints. He couldn't make any sense of it for a long time. When he finally managed to at least glean a bit of knowledge, he made a simple circle on a log.

"You want to talk to the trolls?" Auckes glanced at the apprentices. "Yeah, no. They're going to turn you into stew. Trolls are far stronger than the guards you fought. They have fists bigger than your heads, and their skin's nearly impenetrable. Oh, and their favorite food is human children."

The apprentices winced just from hearing that. The newbie witchers sneered, their eyes flaring with fighting spirit.

"You barely have enough experience in battle as is. Better memorize my thesis before you even think about meeting a troll," said Serrit proudly.

Eskel wiped the sweat off his forehead. "If you're tired of all this work, Grimm's always happy to spar with you kids."

The apprentices shook their heads vigorously, obviously not taking the idea well.

"Why's Grimm still around anyway?"

The children were more than annoyed at this point. Grimm wouldn't stop sparring with them for months. To make things worse, he'd try to inculcate the virtues of knighthood into them, despite their clear reluctance.

Calanthe scanned everyone and nodded gratefully. She was too weak to even speak.

"Ah, she's marvelous." Brina chuckled. Her eyes were twinkling as well. "She'll grow up gorgeous."

"Of course she will. My aunt is..." Ciri frowned, surprised and a little troubled, muttering, "actually quite ugly. Her skin's purple. And there's white stuff everywhere."

"Shut it, duckling!" Yennefer skewered Ciri with a sharp look. "Even gods start out as nothing but regular babies. You were a lot more grotesque when you were born."

"T-That's just a joke, isn't it?"

"Outta the way, Ciri. Lemme kiss the baby."

"Don't even try, Crach. Your hands are dirty as the dumpster. And your beard's filled with alcohol. Ugh, I smell fish, and are those leftovers I see? Don't kiss her. You're going to make her sick."

"Ah, she's a Skellige girl. She ain't that weak."

And the baby cried.

"See? You made her cry, you big oaf.

Geralt frowned. He stared at Yennefer and Crach, thinking that they were a bit too friendly with each other.

"Oh, let me do it. I just had a big serving of liquor. Perfectly healthy." Bran rubbed his gigantic hands together.

And the baby cried. Again.

"Sorry, Your Majesty. She doesn't like you very much either. And stop glaring, Geralt. You're scaring her. Don't poke her, Ciri! And stay away. I don't want any more chain reactions happening."

Yennefer was screaming and warning everyone. The air was livelier all of a sudden.

"Roy." Calanthe turned around and looked at Roy. The witcher was standing far away, nervous but a little anticipatory.

Yennefer sternly said, "Don't just stand there, Roy. She's calling you."

"I..." The witcher came ahead and stared at the bald, wrinkly baby. Something magnificent welled within his heart. There was joy and a bond forming between him and the baby. A close bond.

He wasn’t even an adult yet, and yet he could feel a close connection to the baby as if she were his own child. The Elder Blood cheered in delight, resonating softly with the blood within the child. It made Roy tipsy, as though he'd drunk a bottle of liquor.

Calanthe raised her head, her face glistening. She looked at Roy, her eyes twinkling with a smile. "Why don't you christen her, Roy?"

"What?" The news shocked everyone. None could believe that a queen would allow a witcher to name her baby. They wondered if Calanthe had gone mad.

"Why does Roy get to name her? Why can't I do it?" Ciri pouted.

"Consider this carefully, Calanthe. Yes, he did lend a great deal of assistance to you, but..." Bran gently dissuaded.

The queen and Crach and Crach's family shook their heads as well.

Calanthe told them softly, "This is what destiny has led us to. Destiny not even Freya herself will disobey." She was adamant about having the witcher name the baby, and she held her up to him.

Strangely enough, the baby stopped crying the moment she got closer to Roy. She blinked at him and gurgled happily, then she extended her hands at him, her eyes twinkling with yearning.

This was their first meeting, and yet the baby seemed to have known the witcher for a long time. She had nothing but trust in him. Roy extended an arm over the baby's back, holding her head and part of her shoulder. He cradled her hips and waist with his right arm, holding her up carefully.

Flames flickered. For a moment, the infant took on another image. It was the girl Roy had seen in his vision. A thin veil covered her vague visage. She had hair black as ebony and eyes green as a forest. The girl was petite.

Roy's boiling Elder Blood was slowly coming down. Thanks to the baby's trust, Roy's Elder Blood and hers merged easily. The witcher knew he had permission to use her blood to strengthen his. Especially the bloodline's space-time powers.

"She shall be named Eileni." A word that meant beauty and luck in Elder Speech.

And then a chain connected their hearts. Roy trembled for a moment as the bond between him and Eileni grew deeper. He closed his eyes. Aside from Eileni's location, he could feel her breathing, heartbeat, and even physical condition.

Calanthe quickly took her daughter back and gently touched her chest with a finger. "Do you like that name?"

Eileni gurgled.

"Very well, then, my dear. Henceforth, you shall be known as Eileni Fiona Tuirseach Riannon."

Eileni's happy gurgles echoed throughout the room. Everyone smiled.

"I'm counting on you, Roy." Calanthe smiled at the witcher. "You've given Eileni her name. Do please take good care of her. Keep her safe."

The bond in Roy's heart felt warm and fuzzy. He smiled. "Eileni, my Unexpected Child. I swear I shall forevermore grant you my protection. On my name as a witcher."

***

End of Arc

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