7 Chapter 6:

To caress the serpent that devours us, until it has eaten away our heart. - Voltaire

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3 Years Later:

Current Year: 1259

Three years had passed since the incident with Vivienne, Svend, and Ulf. I had grown a lot more. I was ten years old now and I was taller, more muscular and extremely toned. All of my areas of expertise had reached a new level. My sign use was explosive, powerful, and precise. Sign use was a main part of my combat style. I could now produce signs that were extremely powerful as well as accessing their 2nd forms, being a source helped in this regard. My magic would always be powerful because of it. I also had surpassed my expectations with alchemy, I managed to surpass Gremist in one year and now I was rivalling our Master alchemist Torsten himself. My swordsmanship had also rapidly improved. My one sword and two sword style was fast, wild, powerful, and tricky. Intent on absolutely dismantling my opponents before going in for the kill.

I was currently sparring Ulf in the Courtyard. Swordsmanship only, no signs. I was currently using a single sword that looked like a kriegsmesser. Ulf was using a classic broadsword of Skelligan origin. He had gotten better, but not good enough to beat me. Just enough to contend, but not compete with my onslaught. His strikes had a lot of power behind them, but not enough finesse. I easily evaded a strike that was intent at cutting me through my midsection, before I riposted.

I decided to change up my strategy, I moved faster making several precise chops. Ulf defended his side. At the last moment I changed my position before letting out a clean underhanded strike. Ulf's sword didn't leave his hands, but it flew up above his head. I took this opportunity to land a straight kick into his sternum. Knocking him to the ground. I came over to him and kicked his sword out of his hand before I held mine to his throat.

One of the beefiest witchers I've ever met, who also happens to be our swordsmanship instructor, moved in to stop us.

"Stop! Good match you two. Harkon, you're improving nicely. Your strikes are tricky, precise, and fast. Try to see if you can put more power behind your underhand strike. It will be a good finisher and it will allow you to knock the blade out of your opponents hands, something you failed to do here. Ulf, power isn't everything. You need to learn to be trickier in combat. I know you Skelligans value honor in combat, but Harkon here is from Skellige and he's trickier than any student I've trained." The famous Letho of Gulet said to us. That's right, that Letho.

He was a bit younger than I remember him in the game. He also isn't sporting that nasty scar on top of his head yet, but it's the real bonafide Letho. One of the greatest witchers this school has produced. A witcher that was capable of beating geralt. He is usually set out on the path, but he saw potential in this class so he stayed this year in order to give us tips on swordsmanship.

Ulf got up from the ground and gave me a death glare. Just that action made me look down on him. Skelligans need to be honorable and humble in defeat, otherwise you just end up looking weak and foolish. He was still arrogant, even now. Apparently not even intense witcher training could beat it out of him

"Alright, both of you take a minute and then go practice your sword kata. Harkon, Ivar wanted to speak with you first, he's in his office. Go see him and then come back here to practice." Letho told me. He had a smile on his face.

Over these past couple of years I have not been stagnant. I've ingratiated myself to a lot of the witchers here and I've earned their respect. They see me as someone who is extremely hardworking. I find I like the company of most witchers, after all, we'll all be freaks in arms once I undergo the mutations. They also were not prejudiced in any way towards another race which was good.

I nodded at Leo and began making my way towards the keep. On my way there I noticed Vivienne performing the stealth exercise course with one of the other older witchers. I glared at her, but quickly tore my gaze away before she could see. She had tried to sabotage me several times since the incident that day. I would frequently place my sword down after a tough workout in the training yard so I could grab a drink, only to find it missing and in the mud outside of the castle. Some of my clothes would also be found in the dirt, she would take them while I was in the alchemy laboratory. I got a lock on my door after that.

I gave as good as I got though, I would frequently poison her drinking water with laxatives. Leading to a lot of unfortunate circumstances. She started stepping her game up after that, her and Ulf had tried to assassinate me a few times now. One of them tampered with one of my bombs one time, it nearly blew up in my face and took my right hand with it. It was rather smart, the witchers would write it off as an accident and they would not have to deal with the taboo of killing one of their own.

I responded in kind, by letting some of the monsters the witchers keep in cages out while she was training in the courtyard. A ghoul gave her a nasty gash across her chest and she almost didn't survive. Unfortunately, she did.

She was playing with fire and we had almost killed each other a few times when in full sparring with swords and signs. It seems she is developing better than I would expect, but she wouldn't be developing for too much longer.

Ulf was easier to deal with, he was simply the muscle. However, I learned that he was extremely prejudiced. Something a witcher really shouldn't be. He didn't like the fact that I was an elf and frequently insulted me about it. That was alright because I enjoyed utterly breaking his bones whenever he sparred. I honestly don't know why he keeps insulting me, pride will be his undoing.

I had managed to tear the Nilfgaardian boy, Svend, away from the group though through careful planning and manipulation, Svend is actually a nice guy. He was just roped into helping the other two because they used the same tactic they did on me. Ulf and Vivienne both cornered him and forced him to join their crusade. I had become friends with him. He also had one of the most interesting backstories I'd ever heard.

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1 Year Prior:

Current Year: 1258

"Hey… Harkon?" Svend muttered out. He had a squeaky tone of voice, but that's to be expected for a… Well, actually I don't know how old he is. He's around 9 or 10 I think.

"What's up Svens?" I said, not looking up from my book.

We were both in my room. I was sitting on my bed reading a book about a certain alchemical style that was taught in Zerrikania. Svend was sitting in my chair practicing his Quen sign by writing the glyph down on a piece of paper over and over again.

I had managed to free Svend from the trio by telling him that if we worked together, we wouldn't be taken by surprise and we'd be strong enough to break away. I managed to succeed, but Ulf and Vivienne just roped in one of the nameless Nilfgaardian boys as a replacement. I was fine with that though, the boy was a subpar witcher at best.

However, Svend liked that I came to his aid against Ulf and Vivienne, so we were now "friends". I helped Svend in his training when I could, giving him tips on his sign usage, his strongest subject. I also sparred with him to help his swordsmanship, which wasn't too shabby. Not on my or Ulf's level yet though.

"Can you keep a secret? I need to tell you something." Svend said, his squeaky voice serious in nature.

I looked up from my book at Svend and pondered for a moment. We were more acquaintances than friends. At least in my mind. I could also tell that he was prejudiced at me for being a half elf. Although he didn't show it, I knew he was. It seemed like he was fighting the urge to see himself as a superior in order to maintain our 'friendship' and alliance. Despite Nilfgaard's tolerant views on nonhumans, some of them still think they're superior. Real friends don't see themself as superior to one another, no matter what. It seems he wasn't witcher material like I first assumed him to be when I saw him at the introduction ceremony. I allowed myself to form a small smile and then spoke.

"Sure Svend, anything you need." I said with a happy to help attitude.

Svend took a deep breath and then continued.

"Harkon, I need your help." Svend said, showing me a willful glare. I gestured for him to continue, willing to hear what he has to say.

"Harkon I'm…. My father is… the usurper." Svend said with utter seriousness. I could hear a pin drop.

I almost lost the smile on my face when Svend said those words, this is a larger development than I would have expected. It seems Svend didn't think he was superior to me because I was a half elf. He thought he was superior because he was the son of a literal former emperor. The man who stole the throne from Emhyr, for a time anyway. I kept my tone even and spoke once more.

"Alright Svend that's fine. What do you need help with?" I said, making myself seem like I was still happy to help.

Svend smiled, happy to have me on his side. It's unfortunate, because I was certainly not on his side. Not one bit.

"Well Harkon, if I survive my trials, I want to take the throne back from Emhyr. I'm not a trueborn son of the usurper, but I'm still his blood. There are allies in the world who would support my cause if I could rally them. I might not be able to have children, but I can still rule. When I die, I can have one of the prominent nobles take my place, someone like Anna Henrietta. So I ask you, will you help me take back the throne? Will you help me and rule at my side as my advisor?" Svend said, letting charisma flow through his words. I imagine he thought he was making the first step towards reforming 'his' empire.

I looked at Svend, still keeping the happy to help smile on my face, but this time with a bit of excitement. It did not portray how I really feel, however. Not only do I not like Svend enough to do this for him, there is a zero percent chance of success of this fool's dream working. Especially with Emhyr on the table, he wasn't a stupid ruler. However, I need to act as if I'm on board with his idiotic plan of trying to win the empire back.

"Sure Svend, you can count on me. After all, what are friends for?" I lied with a smile on my face. Svend looked happy to have my cooperation.

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Current Year; 1259

Yup, that's right. Apparently this kid is the bastard son of the Usurper of the Nilfgaard Empire. He should never tell anyone that fact, and he most certainly should not have told me. Emhyr took back power two years ago and he would want Svend's head on a pike. I kept a close eye on Svend after that incident, for all I know, he is the reason Nilfgaard became interested in integrating the school of the viper into the army in the first place. I immediately told Ivar of my worries. Once he learned that Svend was the son of the usurper and not just some random noble child, he assigned several witchers to covertly watch Svend just in case something happened. It was a mystery how Svend even got here, apparently he pawned himself off by saying he was just the son of a minor noble. I asked Ivar if he had been in contact with Emhyr, but he told me he hadn't been in contact with him at all. Perhaps the invasion would not happen for a few more years. Svend might trust me because I had been very helpful with his training when I attempted to get him away from Vivienne and Ulf, but that did not mean I trusted him.

He's fishy, I might need to add him into the plan that I have for Vivienne and Ulf, but I had not decided yet. He could also prove to be an equally invaluable bargaining chip to Emhyr If the need comes to it.

Anyways, after all that monologuing, I had finally arrived at Ivar's office at the top of the keep. I knocked three times on the door. *Knock Knock Knock*

"Come in" Ivar said from within.

He was looking at a bunch of paperwork on his desk. It was messy with pages flung about and around. Book's laid haphazardly on the floor.

"Hey Ivar, how's it going?" I said, being friendly. He's like a father figure for me and frequently helped me out with my studies. He had even shown some favouritism towards me by giving me private lessons.

"Ahh, Harkon, good. Please sit." Ivar said, while looking up from his books. I nodded and sat down in one of the comfy chairs in his office. He looked at me for a moment before sighing and then spoke.

"You're probably wondering why you're here, so let's just get to it then." Ivar said, his tone portraying that he didn't really want to have this talk.

"Alright then." I said, beckoning for Ivar to continue. Ivar looked at me in trepidation before he continued.

"It has been decided that your class will undergo the trial's in three days." Ivar finally spit out.

This was actually good news for me, so I don't know why Ivar is being so weird. Perhaps there's something else that's going on?

"That's good, Ivar. I will make sure to get plenty of rest then and not push myself hard in the next couple days. Was there anything else?" I asked, containing my excitement. No normal man gets excited for the trials after all.

"Actually there is," Ivar spoke, his voice sounded grave. "Other witchers and myself have noticed that you adapted particularly well towards the choice. Your body seems to handle the magic mushrooms very well, your supply of them was even increased to see what happened."

I did notice that I always seemed to get more magic mushrooms than normal whenever we ate, but I wonder where Ivar is going with this.

"Ok, what does that mean?" I asked, genuinely curious.

Ivar narrowed his gaze on me once more before continuing.

"It has been decided that, provided you survive the Trial of the Grasses and the Trial of Dreams, you will be subject to additional mutagenic experiments." Ivar said. He was truly not happy to be delivering me this piece of news.

Hmm, I'm actually quite happy at this development. More mutagenic experiments means more power for me. However, I could very well end up dying from this. Or I could end up retarded and paralyzed with my bones in the wrong place and my organs disentegrated. Well, I want more power and this is the way to do it, I'll have no regrets.

"Alright I understand. I'm fine with that development. Is there anything else?" I said, portraying how I really feel.

Ivar sighed again at that, probably thinking I had accepted my fate or something along those lines. Afterall, no sane person wants to be mutated in the first place. Except for me that is.

"Yes, there is one more thing. The trials will be supervised by a couple of mages and druids that we have agreed to let watch, after they have signed a magical contract of course. It will confirm that they will do nothing with the secrets they learned beyond study and make it so that they will not be able to share the secrets with anyone." Ivar continued, but this time he smiled at me. I already knew that mages and druids have overseen the mutation process since the founding of the order.

"Alright, and? What's the significance of that? I already know that mages and druids oversee our trials." I said, this time with my brows furrowed. What exactly is he getting at?

"Well, I've been thinking. Your mother is a druid and she also specializes in healing." Ivar said with a grin.

Oh fuck. I didn't like where this was going.

"So I've decided to invite her here for your trials. She'll arrive here on the day your trial begins. We've been sending letters back and forth throughout the years. I swear, we talk like a newlywed couple. Who knows, I might just become your new step dad." Ivar said, this time letting out a boisterous laugh.

....Shit