Witcher's Atelier

Day 5 of returning to Kaer Morhen.

At three o'clock in the afternoon that day, the wind was blowing and the rain was pouring.

Entering the east tower, he put away his umbrella and patted the water drops on his shoulders. Victor followed the spiral steps and walked up step by step.

The door of the room was open, and Uma, no—Avallac'h's residence was surprisingly bright.

Although there are dark clouds outside the window, a magic ball emitting strong light is suspended in the air, and with the help of candlesticks on the surrounding rock walls, it adds the splendor of the upper-class aristocracy to the simple comfort of this middle-class room.

Standing in front of the easel, someone is sketching "Kaer Morhen". The painter is a tall gray-haired elf, wearing a dyed robe, which reflects an incredible light, making his whole person seem to be surrounded by a halo.

"Sit down." The elf pointed to a chair and kept his eyes on the painting. "You are finally here?"

"I'm finally here." The witcher stood and admired the painting.

"I thought you would have come earlier."

"That's what I originally thought."

"Haha, better late than never. I noticed that you have been reinforcing the fortifications these days?"

"Yes! Those who see through fate will surely endure the torture of fate."

The elf's brushwork stopped for a moment and turned to look at him.

"Please take a seat." He repeated, "It will be ready soon. The painting is almost finished."

Although it looks like a sketch, the outlines of ancient castles and mountains are also vivid, but the scenery that the elf is about to finish does not lack artistic processing. For example, the snowy sky and frost-white earth, as well as the scattered bones, reveal an unknown Dead silence.

As a prophet, Victor immediately knew what the other party was drawing - "hoar frost" - the hoar frost disaster predicted by his colleague Islin.

According to her prophecy, the world will be destroyed by the Ice Age, and all humans will perish as a result. The only survivors will be the elves, who will be saved by the descendants of the "blood of the elders."

That descendant is called "Jiweier"──"Swift"─which is also the title of "Ciri"

He had not heard anyone mention this prophecy for a long time since "Jaques of Aldeburgh" was thrown into the street. After all, its existence was very far away compared with the war that was so close at hand.

The witcher knew it was real, a possibility in countless futures...

However, it is only possible.

Sitting down calmly, Victor waited in silence.

After some time passed, the elf took a few steps back and looked at his work - "Kaer Morhen after the White Frost" from a distance.

"Tsk! What do you want to express?" The witcher crossed his arms.

The elf glanced at him and took the other end of the brush to his mouth.

"The future...the future that I worry about." He said, "I am deeply worried that the arrival of hoar frost will destroy all civilization as we know it."

"What a noble worry."

"Of course," the elf agreed, "the most significant difference between us and humans is our reverence for the future and our pursuit of eternal continuity.

And you, your short life makes human beings never consider the long-term future, but indulge in the immediate pleasure, eating everything that can be eaten like locusts, destroying everything that can be destroyed.

By the way, do you like poetry? Is there anything you want to rebut? "

"Well..., sewers are the conscience of the city, and humans have not lost their conscience."

The elf laughed dryly.

"A sly answer, but it makes no sense. Now let's act like civilized people and start by introducing ourselves.

My name is Cliffan Espin Aip Coleman Macca. For convenience, I use the pseudonym ‘Avallac’h’. You can call me that too. "

"As you wish, Avallac'h."

"And you are Victor of Keldra, a witcher. You are currently stopping hunting monsters and beasts, and are concentrating on strengthening the castle defenses until heavy rain hinders your actions."

"The summary is pretty good. You must have heard that I can predict the future."

"Predicting the future," Avallac'h said, wiping his hands with a cloth. "Anyone can do this, and everyone predicts the future all the time. Just like the village woman predicting the hens laying eggs, and the fishermen predicting the rise and fall of the tide."

Prediction is easy, the difficult thing is whether it is accurate or not. "

"What a brilliant argument, it can be called a motto. Obviously you don't seem to be convinced of my ability, so your prediction is accurate?"

"This is not difficult, my dear witcher, as long as you know enough and add a little rational analysis, the future will be as simple as one plus one equals two.

I know a lot and can do a lot. According to you humans, the title given to me by 'my compatriots' is proof. My official title is ‘Ioan Savini’. "

"Elven Sage."

"Correct, your erudition impresses me."

"So sage, will you share your knowledge with me?"

Avallac'h hesitated for a moment.

"Share?" After a pause, he said slowly, "With you? My dear Victor, knowledge is a privilege, and people only share privileges when they are of equal status.

Only a few million years ago your species evolved from monkeys, rats, jackals, or some other mammal. And it took your ancestors nearly two million years to discover that their hairy hands could make primitive bone tools. Then what? But they just want to stuff those bones into their own backyards and moan happily.

So, as an elf, as a sage, as a member of the elite, why should I share my knowledge with you? "

With a sneer, the elf turned around and admired his painting.

"Why," he said sarcastically, "would you have the guts to ask me to share knowledge, human? Tell me."

Taking out a piece of gray cloth, Victor wiped the mud off his leather boots.

"The most amazing thing about humans is individual differences. Although I really want to say that it was Fish Leong who gave me the courage, I'm sure you won't appreciate this answer," he said with a slight smile, "so I would say that this is inevitable."

The elf turned around suddenly. "What do you mean by inevitable?" His eyes were sharp.

"It's about sharing knowledge." Victor was calm and shrugged innocently, "I thought you were waiting for me, and you've been waiting for several days."

The elf snorted. Strangely, his expression seemed quite happy.

"Very good, I like to talk to smart people, and you are obviously not so stupid among countless pavienn (monkeys)."

"... Oh, what a pity."

"What a pity? What's there to be sorry about?"

"It's a pity that I didn't see you in your Wuma state. You can only eat shit like Wuma Wuma when you open your mouth. You must be very smart and very smart."

"..., young man, are you trying to irritate me?"

"No, I don't mean to do that. I just want to mock."

The elf laughed, "Hahaha, human cub, you don't seem to understand that you should maintain the necessary respect for the immortals."

"I'm sorry for being born as a human. But whether a person is worthy of respect or not does not depend on whether he can live forever, but on what he does."

The attitude of the witcher is calm and composed.

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