The Witcher: My Own Path

(Tower of the steward of Old Wyzima, Geralt of Rivia, the witcher).

Upon entering, up the spiral stone staircase, the Tower was in the heart of one of the oldest districts of the capital of Temeria and one of the most neglected, for reasons that everyone knows, but also doesn't hide from saying out loud, my thoughts were focused on the person whose stories, anecdotes and whispers came to me from every direction I turned. Since I entered the capital, or rather its sphere of influence, the village adjacent to the city itself, one name was repeated so often that it seemed to have become an inseparable part of the language of the northern kingdoms, as if the mere utterance of it, without mentioning the name of the man himself, could become part of a curse that you could cast upon yourself. Tyr, young Tyr, Sir Tyr, our Tyr and Knight of the Warm Morning are just a few of the names that came from all sides, irritating my sharpened senses like a fly that won't leave you alone, buzzing about the warm shit it just feasted on. Especially when it turned out that the first place I visited and wanted to rest, securing a warm meal, a bed and a few sips of vodka belonged to that very individual.

My curiosity to get to know the object of every village woman's affection was matched only by the irritation I felt at the flood of information that came my way. My travelling companion disappeared from view the moment we left the almost endless forests and wilderness behind and reached civilisation. He mentioned something about looking for inspiration for new songs and poems, and left me to book a room for a few nights ahhhh... as if he didn't know what usually happens when I want to buy or rent something, or get paid for the work I have done. To my amusement, I have the impression that Dandelion sometimes forgets that I am a witcher, and therefore a monster for almost ninety percent of the world's population, well, either his lustful desire has completely eclipsed his common sense, if he even has any.

(The day before)

The "Under Fatherly Care" Inn, a pleasant name and what was even more pleasant, and at the same time terrifying, was that the innkeeper working there told me with a broad smile that every witcher who visits Wyzima is provided with free accommodation, food and drinks of every kind available completely free of charge in every establishment belonging to Lord Tyr (him again)! As soon as I heard the innkeeper's words, my first instinct was to reach for the Elixir de Vries potion, and then for my silver sword to deal with the invisible phantom who had cast this powerful illusion on me, confusing all my senses so much.However, my medallion did not budge, and as I looked around nervously, but discreetly, I noticed a few curious glances, but most of the people there completely ignored me. My first thought was, "Who the hell is this Sir Tyr, that he has caused superstitious and racist villagers to look at me with indifference and pity like I was mentally ill?" Something is fucking wrong here, and for my own peace of mind, I will get to the bottom of this mystery.

I accepted the keys to the room offered by the innkeeper and was then shown to it by a charming young girl. She didn't ask any questions, but I could tell from the way she stole glances in my direction that she had millions of them. I also had a few questions for her, namely "is there any furniture at all?" or "has the body of the unfortunate person who died there, attacked and devoured by bedbugs, been removed yet?" and "how many thugs who want to kill me are waiting there?"

As soon as I entered the rented room, my head immediately cleared. Two single beds neatly made. Down duvets and pillows with snow-white sheets. The smell of fresh laundry still lingering in the air. The innkeeper obviously knew that I had arrived with a companion. Two desks and chairs, sturdy and new furniture, it is clear that the craftsman spared no effort and the best materials. Fresh candles and a fireplace ready to be lit. With my above-average vision, I could see that the room had been carefully cleaned. No bedbugs, no vermin, clean and fragrant.

The previous questions were no longer relevant, now I wanted to know "why?" I looked at the young maid, I think, because a self-satisfied smile graced her pretty face, and the question I hadn't asked was still hanging in the air. She only said that she would prepare a bath soon and that I could eat and drink if I let the innkeeper or the waitress know, then she turned on her heel and ran away, giggling. It was... strangely funny. That day was not without more equally strange and surprising events. A free room, food, a bath, a laundry service, equipment checks, and weapons repaired and sharpened by the supposedly best blacksmiths in the capital. Feeding and cleaning our horses, plus some interesting pastimes away from the thread, such as "Pazzak" or board games like "Temeria biznes", and I also managed to get into a boxing tournament. As far as I'm concerned, they introduced too many rules to prevent anyone from getting seriously injured, but I managed to punch a few people, which resulted in a substantial amount of orens. Damn, I think I'm starting to like this place and this mysterious Sir Tyr I'm about to meet. Right after the tournament, one of his men came up to me and gave me some interesting information about Lord Tyr achievements, his personality, and kindly invited me to meet him whenever I felt like it. Surprisingly, one of his achievements was to lift the curse from the royal daughter, an achievement that was supposed to be mine, because that is why I am visiting Wyzima. Everything is getting even more interesting, I will not waste any more time and go to see this mysterious man.

(Tyr. The Quarter of No-Human, Old Wyzima, The Administrator's Tower, Nowadays).

Standing at the window of my office on the top floor of the tower in the centre of the district, I watched the residents of Old Wyzima go about their daily business. The whole sight filled me with pride in the work we had done to transform this place from a literal shithole into something that could be called decent. (and at the same time sadness for the reasons I will have to do in the future)

It took less time than I expected. You can't underestimate people with the right motivation and, of course, the right financial resources. The sisters from Lebiody Hospital did a great job of looking after the sick, and the daily dose of proper meals improved their physical and mental condition.

Thanks to the high priestess, we opened the Melitele temple and once desperate elves and dwarves gladly began to visit this shrine, thanking the goddess for her blessings, it's better than the bloody Cult of Eternal Fire and besides, the doctrine of the Melitele church kind of clashes with the radical measures of Scoia'tael, whose rise I am unable to avoid, but at least I hope it won't spread among the inhuman part of the population of Wyzima and its surroundings. I turned my gaze eastwards to my own lands, still untouched, shrouded in the misty vapours rising from the marshes. It will be a long time before I am ready to cleanse and adapt this place to my needs. I then directed my gaze to the southwest, where my only functioning village was located, and although with heightened senses and power, I could not reach it with my eyes, yet it did not worry me.

Prosperous brickworks and sawmills fulfilled their roles, increasing the village's population, its general wealth, and its size. The draining of the surrounding area was progressing well, and Haren's guards were protecting the inhabitants and workers from bandits and other minor creatures. The areas around the nearby ancient wizard's tower are slowly being cleared. I have not yet decided whether to rebuild it. However, I have big plans for it. While thinking about the further transformation of my own land, my thoughts automatically turned to a topic that had been bothering and worrying me for some time, namely an ancient ritual that I had recently learnt about, as well as the increasingly strong influence of the dark side on my body and my mental state.

A rhythmic but not insistent knock brought me back from the depths of my thoughts.

"Come in!" I said firmly and loudly enough for my voice to penetrate the thick wooden door.

"Master Geralt, the witcher of the respected school of the wolf, asks for an audience with his lordship the manager".

"Thank you, Isarim. Invite him in and be so kind as to inform Master Orik to come to me as soon as possible".

"Of course, my lord".

He bowed deeply and stepped aside to let the Witcher in, then left the room and closed the door behind him.

I got up from the chair and approached Geralt to shake his hand. We looked each other in the eyes, and a gentle smile adorned my face.