Chapter 50

I fell on my backside yet again, my head ringing as Seltkirk rapped me on the cap with the flat of his blade. After going over how to safely carry and throw the bombs and to oil down his blade, we had turned to sparring. And I was getting schooled.

"It is scary how quick it is that you can predict where I'm going to show up when I teleport." I grumbled from my position in the dirt.

"You squint right before you do it," Seltkirk said with a smile. "And you always look in the direction you're going to move. After the first few times, I was able to estimate your range, and from there it came to determining what position would put you in the greatest advantage against me."

"It seems not even a Witcher is able to stand up to the Invincible White Knight of Aedirn. Shame, I was hoping for a better showing." Stennis said with a smirk off to the side of the training field just outside Vergen's walls. It was no surprise that once the world spread of me sparring with Seltkirk that a decent crowd had formed alongside normal soldiers just to watch me get my ass handed to me, the prince among them.

"You're just lucky this is just a friendly spar or else I would blast you away like a feather in the wind, drown you in flames or even steal your wits from you. Heck, if I was using Quen I would have a shield around me you would be hard pressed to break and even if you did it would explode with a good amount of force." I wiggled my fingers ominously. "I'm no mage but I do know enough magic to be a major annoyance."

"And if your magic fails you?" Seltkirk asked with a raised brow. "I seem to recall dimeritium having a debilitative effect on those that make use of it."

"Ideally I would never be in that situation… but recent events have showed me I can't prepare for everything and I could stand to be better at swinging a sword around against more intelligent foes." I admitted.

"Agreed. Again!" Seltkirk pulled me to my feet and assumed a high guard position - feet spread wide, with his sword hilt grasped with both hands and tucked into the fold of his shoulder, point aimed at the sky. I'd seen him use it a couple of times already, and it usually preceded a arm-rattling downward swing at the crown of my skull.

Hmmm, maybe I can bluff him? I moved forward with my steel sword and on my off hand I started signing random nonsense, trying to get him to focus on what 'magic' I was calling and not my sword. I stabbed forward and hoped for the best.

My best was deflected as Seltkirk pivoted his sword so that it was pointed down, seized the leading edge with his off hand, parried down like he was using a quarterstaff, and then slammed the pommel of his sword into my sternum, knocking the wind out of me and forcing me to step back several feet.

"What gave my bluff away?" I gasped.

"Your eyes," he responded, even as he lightly stepped away. "The eyes, shoulders, and hips are always the key to anticipating an opponent's moves, and yours were focused on my blade as though you were trying to anticipate my next move. Most of the magic I've seen you use doesn't pay that much heed to my swordplay, but rather my body's placement." he explained.

All I could do was grumble in acknowledgement as I got my breathing back under control. "Alright then. I didn't want it to come to this but it's obvious I need to go beyond." I said as I pulled out a potion. Plus Ultra! I mentally cried out.

I then proceeded to down a Thunderbolt, Tawny Oil, and Maribor Forest. Seltkirk frowned, but resumed his stance. A low guard, this time, with the blade pointed loosely towards the floor and protecting his midline and legs.

I felt the poison flood my veins and I heard more than a few gasps as those watching took notice of my blackening veins and eyes. I also noticed how the Maribor Forest was causing my heart rate to spike and it felt as if the whole world was moving in slow motion now. Now it was time to show how a Witcher fights.

I rush forward with an overhead swing in mind and- why am I staring up at the sky?

Seltkirk's foot thundered by my head. "Again!" he barked, sounding like a drill instructor.

Okay, I have no idea what just happened but failure was just a part of the road to success so I quickly picked myself up, focused, and charged at Seltkirk again with a stab.

"Your frustration makes you sloppy," he said as he side-stepped my lunge entirely, just before snap-kicking me in the hip and rocking me a couple of yards with the force of it. "You're certainly faster than before and I can tell your swings are stronger but you are still broadcasting your movements so I can react to them. Focus!"

I actually growled a bit. Why was I being manhandled this easily?!

I did follow his advice and focused a bit more on my next move. Okay, let's go with a feint. Lets see him react in time to that! I moved to do just so, seemingly that was going for another overhead blow but planned to make use of my sword's pommel instead. I swung, Seltkirk moved to block-

And I crouched and punched forward and up with the pommel, knocking Seltkirk in the chest as I did so. The crossguard came up alongside his face, and left a slight scratch on his cheek. I had to block his return swing and back off but I had a smile on my face.

"Ha! I finally drew blood… I think. I drew blood right?" I asked Seltkirk as he inspected his wound. A little bit of red was on his armored finger. Hell yeah!

"Indeed you did. Now I can take you seriously." Seltkirk said with a grin.

… Say what now?

---

"I must admit… when it comes to endurance… you have me beat at least." Seltkirk said, his breathing a little heavy as he stood with sweat dripping down his face.

"Yeah, and you 'killed' me at least two dozen times during the whole hour of going at it." I said, my body black and blue from the beating I had received. I uncorked a bottle of Swallow and tossed it back, groaning slightly as it repaired the bruises and scrapes Seltkirk had given me during our bouts..

Seltkirk mopped his face with a handkerchief. "Think of it this way - how old were you when you came here?" he asked after glancing to make sure nobody was in earshot.

"24, no idea how old this body is though. Witchers age pretty gracefully."

"I was 72 when I… well, died. And I've lived here for 21 years. In other words, I've been training and fighting almost non-stop since I was eight years old, well over eighty years. It's no wonder I have an edge over you, irregardless of the advantages given to you by your innate biology." He winked at me. "Age and treachery will always triumph over youth and speed."

"Good point. I just have to learn and not die in order to actually improve. Can't say though how the future looks on that front. Still, I hope you got something out of this besides just beating me like a drum. You are the one who is facing off against a guy who is nearly as good at fighting as you are while I will be safe behind these walls." I said a little guiltily since I was hoping to be a good sparring partner alongside giving him some useful knowledge and tools.

"Fret not," he said kindly. "It was a good workout, and useful practice for me to combat someone who has an edge in speed and endurance. Vandergrift is younger than me, so he has both advantages."

"I suppose. I guess that all we can do now is rest and train until we have no more time to do so." I grumbled.

A soldier came up to us. "Pardon the interruption. Ser Seltkirk? Master Barclay was asking for you."

"Was he now?" Seltkirk grumbled. He pulled himself to his feet with a sigh. "I'd best see what he needs. Enjoy the rest of your day, Master Witcher."

I glanced up at the soldier and raised a brow at the decidedly not Aedirnian colored armor, and in fact much different than what the usual troops were wearing.

He was wearing boiled leather armor that had been dabbed with green and gray paint to create a mottled pattern. His cloak was the same, and hid a hand crossbow and a pair of long daggers, almost the size of a Roman short sword. The breastplate bore a stylized swooping owl. The helmet was also camouflaged, and covered the entire head, looking a lot like a Spartan helmet but without the giant crest and a narrow T-slit visor instead of a nose guard down the middle.

Heh, armorers had good taste at least. Better than a weird cone beak or a literal bucket design. Medieval armor could come in weird shapes sometimes.

"I didn't know mercenaries acted as messengers." I pointed out curiously.

"Respectfully, Master Witcher, but I'm not a mercenary. I'm a Supercommando. We report directly to Ser Seltkirk." he said with a bit of heat, likely due to the mercenary comment.

"Oh, you're the Lyria and Rivia special forces, right? Nice to meet you. I don't know much about the special forces of the Northern Kingdoms besides the Blue Stripes. I also didn't think your country was super close with Aedirn." I commented.

"We aren't, but Ser Seltkirk was kind enough to lend some indirect aid to Queen Meve during the Thronebreaker Conflict; the Prince-Consort thought it best to return the favor once he heard reports that King Henselt was moving south once again. Our orders are to keep the 'Invincible White Knight' alive, and my brothers and I aim to do precisely that to the best of our abilities." He gave me a salute, pounding his breastplate over his heart with his right fist. "If you'll excuse me, I have more messages to deliver." He said in parting and trotted off.

Huh, I guess I wasn't the only one who saw Seltkirk as important to political stability. Hopefully these do a better job of it now than in canon though.

Well, it was nearing supper time so I might as well return to the Cauldron and make sure Ivar hadn't started writing on the walls or anything in his studies.

---

Well… it wasn't the wall, though I don't think the dwarven matron innkeeper liked how Ivar was drawing on the table.

"Did you run out of paper, or was your mind moving faster than your hands?" I asked as I sat opposite him and he looked up in response.

"Bit of both, really. I could have bought more but I find myself in a sort of rush looking over the vran notes and deciphering their deeper meaning. This mention of a 'Chosen One' itself is quite interesting and if my tranvlations are right might have some relation to Ithlinne's Prophecy and the coming of the White Frost. I suppose the vrans must have had their own seers, though they apparently did not see the extreme decline of their race due to an infertility plague coming. Still, it is quite interesting and rather likely the Chosen One they talk about is this Ciri you spoke of, which would align with the story you told me about how she does succeed." Ivar explained.

"She seems to get all the prophecies aimed at her, why not another?" I grumbled. "I feel bad though how the fate of countless worlds apparently rests on her shoulders. It's the freakin multiverse, shouldn't there be countless other saviors around?"

"By that logic there are also several apocalyptic threats on countless worlds as well. Maybe they are busy?" Ivar asked in a joking tone.

"I would not be surprised." I said as I stole one of Ivar's bread rolls. "Though I guess the Vrans were just hoping only the Chosen One would find their hidden magical basement since they didn't know specifically who they were. Talk about putting all your eggs in one basket."

"Technically we aligned with Ciri's goals, so might they not have been correct in that assumption?" Ivar said with a smirk.

"Don't be a smartass." I grumbled. "Point is, clean this mess up when you are done or else I think the matron will kick both our asses."

"Fair enough. How did your sparring with Ser Seltkirk go?"

"About as well as expected. I was a particularly good dummy for him to beat on for about an hour. I imagine it will remain the same for the short time here, with me hopefully learning something about fighting in the process."

"'As long as one learns from their mistakes they will have gained something valuable', or so the saying goes." Ivar shrugged. "Still, I do hope this plan of ours works out. Having learned that Seltkirk is kin to you in circumstance if not blood must be reassuring. Though the fate that awaits him should he fail is not a pleasant imagining."

"Yeah, to both. Still, we've done all we could at this point so now it's just a waiting game. We can either obsess over it or just think on other things."

"Good point. So what should we talk about then if not the upcoming battle nor the vrans' ancient plans?" Ivar asked curiously.

"I have no idea. Only so many times I can plan for the future only for my plans to take a wide turn elsewhere." I admitted, feeling a little annoyed how a simple trip to the closest thing I could have to a safe haven in this world has already had me face several issues, some of my own choosing and some not. "I know life doesn't care for peoples' plans, but I wish it gave me a break at least a little."

Ivar smiled, not unkindly. "So do all who face such times, but that is not for them to decide. All they have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to them."

Wait. Did Ivar just Gandalf me!? Oh I was so not in the mood to hear that from someone roughly my own age mentally, I would accept no less than Vesemir himself!

"So what would you have me do? As Flotsam has taught us I'm not exactly the most responsible person in the world to be making life-changing decisions for other people. I hope you don't see fault for what we are doing now at least." I said, inside really hoping I truly didn't make things worse by working to stop a massacre and blood curse.

He shook his head. "This is rather more clear-cut than the situation was in Flotsam ironically despite being a war. Loredo was a monster, but he was also a stabilizing influence in an area we might have driven into chaos if Iorveth does not get a handle on things. Here, stability is already lost. In Flotsam, you couldn't anticipate all of the consequences of your actions there. There were so many factors at play that to make a statement of fact about what would happen was impossible. As one of my philosophy teachers told me, 'there is no chance, no chaos, only ignorance.' Perfect knowledge would give you perfect anticipation of what would happen; since you lack perfect knowledge, you cannot anticipate all of the possible outcomes of your actions."

"This does not absolve you of the effort to try," he continued, lifting one finger to forestall any potential objections, "but should give you humility regarding your ability to do. Now, here at Vergen? With the battle? Assuming you remember everything correctly, you know that everything here hinges on what happens to Seltkirk. He is the linchpin for everything in the coming battle. And you know what will happen if he dies. Nothing you've said or done has had an effect on Sabrina - that you know of, anyway. Worst-case scenario, everything happens as it did before, and you know how to fix that. Best-case scenario, Vandergrift dies, Aedirn wins, and Sabrina has no reason to burn the battlefield."

I considered what he said. "Another plus is I'm pretty sure Seltkirk is way more competent than me in damn near everything. If he can't make use of meta-knowledge no one can. Still, I can't help but feel nervous and expecting the worst to happen cause I didn't cover my bases, and it won't be me being hurt. People relying on you so much can suck, especially when you care." I ended with a sigh. I wish I was one of those more 'go with the flow' kinda people in times like this.

"I like to think that caring for others is a strength. It takes a strong man to stand up for himself, and a stronger one to stand up for others after all." Ivar said with a smile.

"You just love showing how wise and mature you are, don't you."

"It has its perks." he smirked.

I just grumbled and ordered some cider.