10 Chapter 9: Time of the Moon

In the dimly lit chamber, Geralt reclined upon his bed, his gaze fixed upon the ceiling overhead. Though this was a communal dormitory, he was the sole occupant of this particular room at the moment, making it his sanctuary. The arduous journey from Kaer Morhen to Ellander had taken its toll, but such was the fate of a Witcher, forever wandering the endless path.

On this night, slumber eluded him. His thoughts weighed heavy, for even a single day's stay here posed a risk to everyone, especially his adopted daughter, Ciri. He attempted to banish these troubling thoughts, an uncommon preoccupation for a Witcher like himself. To clear his mind, he rose from his bed and donned a simple white shirt before venturing out of his quarters.

Under the cloak of midnight, he traversed the temple's corridors, moving as stealthily as a feline. Exiting the edifice, he inhaled the crisp night air, surveying the temple's courtyard. It was then that he noticed another figure, someone beneath a tree, clutching parchment and quill. At intervals, the person gazed skyward at the clear expanse above before returning to their task. It was the very wanderer of whom Nenneke had spoken, the one who had set his medallion vibrating.

Geralt approached the figure, his medallion's hum growing louder with each step. The individual, at the very least, possessed a magical artifact to be able to make the medallion hum like this. Drawing closer, the man finally acknowledged Geralt's presence.

"The witcher can't find rest?" Argus inquired casually, his focus still on the parchment.

"I'm not yet tired," Geralt replied simply. "What about you?"

"I'm charting the stars," Argus replied. "It's not something easily done in daylight."

Geralt arched an eyebrow. "And why are you doing that?"

"Why not?" Argus countered. "It's a useful map when you're uncertain of your path in the middle of the night."

"Most people rely on signs and landmarks instead of the stars," Geralt remarked.

Argus chuckled. "You have a point."

Geralt's gaze then turned to the staff propped against the tree. "You're a mage?"

"In a manner of speaking," Argus hummed. "Though our definitions of 'mage' may differ."

"Is that so?" Geralt settled on the grass a few feet from Argus, eyes fixed on the night sky. "How do you define a mage, then?"

"Do you want the brief version or the detailed one?"

"Brief."

"In my culture, 'mage' and 'wizard' differ from 'sorcerer.' I fall into the former category," Argus explained. "Sorcerers and sorceresses are self-absorbed charmers, while wizards and mages are stubborn fools."

"Fools?" Geralt raised an eyebrow.

"The greater the mage, the greater the fool. We who wield magic dwell in a realm of dreams and chase those dreams... only to be ensnared by them in the end," Argus continued. "Or so my friend once claimed."

Geralt hummed. "Interesting. Never heard that saying from any place that I've ever been. Where are you from exactly?"

"I can't exactly tell you, witcher. You won't know it." Argus said. "Anyway, you are Geralt of Rivia, correct?"

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"The description matches. From 'Time of the Moon' by Julian Alfred Pankratz. Familiar with the author?"

Geralt sighed. "Yes, he's a friend."

"A unique friend, it seems, embedding you in his verses..."

The witcher scoffed. "You haven't seen anything yet." Geralt then stretched out on the grass, using his hands as a makeshift pillow. "You know my name. What's yours?"

"Argus Moonfall, a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the half-elf murmured. "Speaking of which, I recently read about witchers in one of the library's tomes. They claim witchers don't rely on spells but use 'lesser' versions of it called signs. Could you demonstrate one for me?"

Geralt inquired, "Why the interest?"

"I'm a traveling mage, Geralt. I yearned for knowledge." Argus answered. "Although It's fine if you do not want to show it to me, I understand that for some people it's a life and death scenario."

"Fine, I can show you one." Geralt stood up from his position, standing right in front of Argus. Mirroring the witcher, Argus also stood up, preparing to observe. He placed his parchment containing the stars besides his staff.

"This is called Quen, practically a witcher's shield." Geralt then went into a stance, and made a gesture using his own hand; in a matter of seconds, an orange protective bubble surrounded the witcher.

"Intriguing," Argus whistled, inspecting the barrier. "Does it come at a cost?"

"Cost?" Geralt arched an eyebrow. "The longer I maintain it, the more fatigued I become."

"I see... a somatic component only, a weaker version of [Shield]..." Argus nodded. "Thank you for the demonstration, Geralt. You can dispel it now."

The witcher grunted as the protective shield around him vanished, walking down to his spot once more to lay down. "You must really come from so far away from here that you don't know about a simple witcher's sign. All the sorcerers and sorceresses I've met at least knew something about us witchers."

"Do you encounter many sorcerers?" Argus inquired.

"I've crossed paths with a few," Geralt hummed.

"What are they like?"

"What are they like?" Geralt repeated. "Well, each sorcerer I've met is unique in their own way. Some are kind, some are rude, and some are simply irresistible... but many are natural-born schemers, it seems."

"Interesting, definitely different from where I came from." Argus chuckled. "It's nice to see that sorcerers here are closer in character to my colleagues than the sorcerers of my homeland."

"There's one sorceress here, currently staying."

"Yes. the redhead, I can see that." Argus nodded. "While she looks a bit sick, I couldn't deny that something about her just screams that she is a spellcaster."

"Yeah…" Geralt simply muttered. "You're a strange man. It's rare to see someone who is curious about my kind."

"You're the one who approaches me first, as far as I remember." Argus said. "I simply took the opportunity, and you answered."

"You didn't cast a strange, foreign spell on me, did you?" Geralt asked again. "My medallion's humming the whole time."

"Although I've employed such tactics on villagers recently, no, I've done nothing of the sort to you, Witcher. I know better than to earn your ire," Argus replied, turning his gaze to Geralt's medallion. "By the way, could I examine your medallion? It appears quite intriguing. I promise not to tamper with it."

Geralt sighed, withdrawing the medallion from his neck. "Go ahead."

Argus accepted the medallion from Geralt, studying it closely. Throughout the examination, it vibrated incessantly. "I wonder if I could fashion one of these. It would be a useful tool for detecting magic."

"You're a mage, and you can't detect magic?" Geralt inquired.

"As I mentioned, in my culture, sorcerers and mages are distinct," Argus explained. "Mages and wizards lack the innate ability to sense magic. We can only do so through spells, which require active effort. A medallion like this would be invaluable for passive magical detection."

Geralt raised an eyebrow. "You study magic but can't sense it naturally?"

Argus just smiled, throwing the medallion back at Geralt. "Wizards are fools, Geralt, I've already told you that."

"You really are a strange one." Geralt shook his head, securing the medallion around his neck once more.

Argus chuckled again, leaning against the tree behind him. His gaze shifted to the sorceress's tent, situated a distance away. "Would the sorceress mind if I paid her a visit tonight? I have some inquiries to make."

"I wouldn't recommend it, but..." Geralt's gaze also turned to the tent. "You can try if you wish. I won't assume responsibility for any consequences, though."

Argus found amusement in Geralt's response, scoffing lightly. He then returned his attention to his drawings, continuing to chart the stars that adorned the nighttime sky.