Departure(2)

After the lair had been extensively cleared out, the pair stood in awkward silence. Geralt was examining his chipped sword, trying to avoid eye contact with his companion, who was clearly pissed at him.

Reflecting on his encounter, he couldn't help but acknowledge a series of egregious errors. Excessive use of force, which resulted in overextended strikes, not the right oil on his blade, not drinking any potions before the fight, he didn't even make use of quen as a protective measure. All that and a miscalculated move were all it would take to incapacitate him. In fact, if Atram hadn't been there to take the fight into his own hands, he could have been killed.

However, Geralt had misunderstood one thing. Atram wasn't angry at him; in fact, he was downright giddy with delight. After months of being confined within Kaer Morhen's walls, he was growing weary of the routine. While the daily drills were necessary, the monotony of seeing only snow and stone walls day after day was wearing on him. Therefore, stumbling upon this monster-infested mine on their first day of patrol felt like a genuine blessing in disguise for him.

Sure, his friend made a bad decision, but everyone does. Geralt was a professional through and through. Always calm and collected. Whatever it was that had agitated him earlier had been a momentary lapse in judgment. In truth, Atram's own propensity for danger had brought his adventuring party no small amount of trouble. But that is where your partner come in to pick up the slack.

He looked at his knuckles, still red and sore from the fight. The skin had been completely scraped off in some places, revealing the raw flesh and bone underneath. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and let his bloodlust subside. Focusing his ki to regenerate and reinvigorate his body, he approached Geralt.

"Anything needs fixing, old man? Apart from your blade, I mean." He inquired cockily.

Geralt shook his head. "Nothing that time won't heal." He paused, his shoulders slightly drooping. "Apologies for what happened. I let my emotions get the best of me, endangering not only myself but also you."

Atram shrugged. "Eh, it happens to the best of us. Have you seen the way I fight? Do you think I am all flowers and butterflies inside when I am in the heat of battle?" He replied nonchalantly.

Geralt, upon hearing this, turned into a carp. His mouth opened and closed, unable to find the appropriate words to respond, before finally settling on a simple but meaningful, "Thank you."

Atram gave him a knowing wink. "However, I believe I'm entitled to an explanation for your behavior. You witchers don't often show your emotions, which, if you ask me, is unhealthy, but that's beside the point." He settled onto a nearby boulder, inviting further conversation. "So, what is it about this Yennefer that gets under your skin?"

Geralt shifted in his position, obviously uncomfortable with the matter. He briefly considered leaving the room or making an excuse, but after calming down, he gave it some thought.

The man might have potentially saved my life. Giving him a justification for my actions is the least I could do. Besides, if Yennefer's letter is indeed about Ciri, he would be more than willing to help find her. Who knows, maybe she could help him in return if... When we find her.

Geralt pondered the pros and cons of telling him but finally decided to go with his heart and trust Atram. "Yennefer and I have a... complicated history," he began slowly. "She's powerful, intelligent, and... beautiful, but she's also stubborn, manipulative, and can be cruel at times."

Atram raised an eyebrow in surprise. He was well aware of the difficulties their line of work posed in terms of romantic relationships. "You poor man. This is about love, isn't it?"

Geralt nodded helplessly, his gaze lowering. "Before I go any farther, I should provide some context," he said, then continued. "Years ago, a friend of mine, Dandelion, and I found a djinn at the bottom of a river while fishing for food. I love that idiot, but damn, he makes the dumbest decisions sometimes. In his infinite wisdom, he decided to free the djinn so he could have his three wishes, and when I tried to stop him, we accidentally released it from its prison, mortally injuring him in the process." He paused and sighed.

"Yennefer, who was the nearby town's sorceress at the time, 'volunteered' to cure him. Turns out she wanted to capture the djinn in order to wish one of her... obsessions away. However, djinns aren't keen on helping, captured or otherwise. They will try to twist your wishes in the most horrible way possible, condemning their captors in the process. Despite the warnings, she persisted and eventually managed to temporarily trap the djinn."

"I sense a 'but' coming," Atram chimed in.

Geralt nodded and continued. "Alas, our attempts to fully capture it were futile. Yennefer, despite her considerable skill, was unable to contain its immense power. The djinn broke free, unleashing chaos upon the town as it relentlessly pursued Yennefer to exact its revenge. Our only hope lay in finding a way to banish it back to its realm before it wrought any more devastation."

Atram chuckled. "In comes Geralt of Rivia to save the day."

Geralt's mouth curved into a smile. "Not in the way you imagine. In the chaos that ensued, we found out that I was the master of the djinn. I will not go into detail about my first two wishes, but the third one was to bind mine and Yennefer's fate together. Djinns can't harm their master, and by wishing for our fates to be intertwined, I ensured that Yennefer would be protected from harm."

"Since then, we have had a tumultuous relationship, full of ups and downs. Moments of peace and painful separations. But, despite it all, we have always found our way back to each other, as if we were destined to be together."

Atram, who had been listening intently to Geralt's story, couldn't help but applaud, much to the witcher's embarrassment. "Geralt, if you ever decide to retire from monster hunting, you should consider becoming a storyteller or a writer." He said with a grin.

Geralt's eyes rolled, but a hint of a smile flickered on his lips.

"So your Yennefer needs help. I can understand the anxiety, but why the anger?"

"Imagine your lover being a powerful sorceress who knows where you winter and can teleport on a whim to your location. But instead of doing that, she sends you a letter with a bloody crow and urges you to travel half the fucking continent to meet her." He replied, his words becoming louder as he went on.

"That is...rough. Now i know why you're so irritated. But maybe there's more to the story than just her being a..."

"Bitch!" Geralt growled loudly, cutting off Atram's attempt to soften the blow.

Atram lifted his hands in surrender. "Your words, not mine."

Geralt exhaled air through his nostrils, trying to calm himself down. "I considered it, but she could teleport here and back with another person, and it would still take a lot less time than traveling by road. If whatever she needs help with is of outmost importance, she should have chosen the former."

Atram nodded, but he thought it all came down to a single point. "Well, important or otherwise, you will definitely help."

Geralt scoffed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Let me think...A woman you love and are literally fated to be with asks for your assistance and explicitly states that it is an urgent matter. " Atram replied with a hint of sarcasm.

Geralt let out a sigh. "If you phrase it that way, then yes, it is quite obvious."

Atram clapped his hands together. "Great! When are we leaving?" He asked enthusiastically.

Geralt blinked several times before he finally realized why he was so eager to come with him. "You want to leave the keep, don't you?"

Atram nodded shamelessly. "Absolutely!"

Despite the situation, Geralt let out a hoarse snicker. "How does tomorrow sound? Oh, and don't tell Vesemir you're coming with me to get away from Kaer Morhen."

Atram exhaled through his nose in annoyance. "Do you take me for a suicidal fool?"

Geralt smiled and pointed at the broken remains of the earth elemental.

Atram nodded in admittance. "Fair enough."

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The pair thoroughly searched the mines but found no more monsters. Instead, they discovered two thick slabs of stone tightly knit together, forming an impenetrable door. Atram attempted to open them but was unable to. So he resorted to what he knows best: punching.

Nonetheless, he quickly realized that the stone was too solid to break through without bringing the entire mine section crashing down on them. With that realization, they salvaged what Geralt sought from the nekker carcasses and the elemental, and departed from the mines.

When they left the fortress, it had been morning; now it was almost night, and with winter not completely over, the temperature had dropped considerably. Snowflakes were falling gently from the sky, covering the landscape in a soft blanket of white. The encroaching darkness enveloped everything in a gloomy veil that made it difficult to see beyond a few feet, and the bodies of trees cast eerie shadows that danced in the freezing wind.

When light gave way to darkness, the horrors of the world bared their teeth, but that is where the strange pair that traversed the forest thrived. Yet, to the dismay of the bear, their prey had proved nonexistent.

Arriving at Kaer Morhen, they were greeted by the rest of their wayward group. They left their horses at the stable and entered the fortress, eager to share their findings and warm their bones by the fire. As their story unfolded, the oldest of their order rubbed the edges of his moustache thoughtfully.

"The mines had collapsed over a century ago, but before that, they were used by a blacksmith mage named Radmir to forge exceptional arms and weapons. I even used to wield a sword he crafted himself, which was almost as good as the dwarven sihils." He reminisced.

"Maybe whatever is behind that entrance can prove useful to us. We all know how much mages cherish and guard their secrets." Eskel proposed.

Vesemir nodded, still thoughtful about their discovery. "I will do a thorough search in the library to see if i can find anything of value." He turned to address Geralt. "In regards to the other matter, how did it go?"

At that, the other witchers focused their attention on Geralt. The man in question chuckled slightly and answered with confidence. "Atram did a superb job on his first hunt."

Atram was taken aback by his words and looked at him with surprise.

"Firstly, he masterfully deduced the species by examining their footprints and their numbers. Though he lacks our enhanced sense of smell, he makes up for it with keen observation skills. Secondly, he executed the hunt flawlessly, dispatching the nekkers with absolute ruthlessness while drawing their attention towards him."

Geralt drew a deep breath, knowing he had one final confession to make to his peers. "The truth is, I was the liability on this hunt. I let my emotions over Yennefer cloud my judgment, allowing anger to overwhelm me. When I encountered the earth elemental, I recklessly charged at it without any forethought or preparation. It's fair to say that if it weren't for him, I might have lost my life," he admitted, bowing his head in shame.

Vesemir crossed his arms and scowled slightly. "I can sympathize with you, Geralt, but losing your temper during a mission..." He sighed and shook his head disapprovingly. "As for you, Atram, congratulations. I had no doubt that you would be able to handle yourself in the field." And with that, he stood up and exited the hall.

"So... an earth elemental, huh? Tough bastards to deal with." Lambert said, wanting to break the silence that permeated the room.

Atram shifted his hand in a so-so manner. "Apart from the sheer weight behind their blows and their toughness, they are not that difficult to deal with. They are slow, dumb, and their moves predictable."

"For a brawler who has bones of steel, that is true. For a swordsman, however, they are a pain to deal with." Eskel chimed in.

"Aye, had to kill one of those once. Thing almost broke my sword." Lambert concurred.

"There are not many things in the world that can withstand pure blunt force." Atram said with a victorious grin on his face. "By the way, I had no idea I was being tested today. To what end?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Geralt replied, attempting to conceal a mischievous smile.

Shortly after, Vesemir emerged, his hands clasped behind his back in the manner of an elder. As the witchers spotted his approach, they stood up, and Eskel gestured for Atram to do the same.

Despite his obliviousness, Atram obeyed.

Vesemir stood in front of him, extended his arm, and opened his palm. When Atram saw what was inside, his breathing quickened, and a tight knot formed in his throat. It was a silver medallion, a witcher's medallion.

The medallion was unlike any he had seen before, markedly different from the wolf emblems worn by the witchers he knew. Instead of the familiar wolf, this medallion bore the visage of a bear, but not just any bear—it was a beast of unparalleled ferocity. Its fangs jutted menacingly from its mouth, its eyes glowed with a glacial blue intensity, exuding a frenzied intensity he was all too familiar with.

Atram was rendered speechless by the gravity of the gesture. But eventually, he managed to gather his wits and slowly address the man before him. "Master Vesemir, I... I can't accept this. This is one of your guild's most prized possessions, and it would be an honor beyond measure to wear it. But I don't adhere to your code. I am just a man who loves to fight," he babbled in rapid succession.

Vesemir chuckled, his gruff voice filling the room. "Nonsense, lad. Have you not trained with us? Have you not learned and demonstrated how to combat the monsters that inhabit this world? As for our code, you may not follow it, but you embody its principles. You are a true warrior who carries himself honorably, and we would be proud to call you one of our own. " He responded confidently and gave Atram the medallion.

Atram felt a surge of gratitude wash over him as he accepted the medallion and fastened it around his neck. He had come to this world as an outsider, bruised and battered by whatever had happened during the gap in his memory. And here he was, months later, with his new brothers in arms and a place he can proudly call home.

The sound of swords been drawn from their scabbards woke him from his emotional stupor. Glancing around, he noticed the witchers had formed a circle around him and raised their swords in salutation.

"May your strength never falter. May your courage never waver. May your heart never be swayed from the path of righteousness," they chanted in unison.

Vesemir placed his sword on Atram's shoulder and continued speaking. "Your strength and resilience are the stuff of legends. Your passion for battle is matched only by your skill and ferocity in it. By my rights as the grandmaster of this school, I welcome you into our ranks as a fellow brother."

Atram bowed deeply towards Vesemir, and the witchers clanged their swords in approval and acceptance of their newest member.

With the initiation ceremony complete, Albert worked overtime as the witchers had a hearty feast that night, which served two purposes. The first was to commemorate Atram's induction, and the second was to say goodbye to the members who were leaving the following morning.

As the festivities came to an end, the witchers retired to their rooms, exhausted from the night's revelry and with a heavy head, as they tried to drink Atram under the table but failed miserably. Why they thought they could do that with a man almost twice their size was... questionable.

Atram lay in bed, his mind still buzzing with excitement from the day's events. His morning had started with the usual sparring that ended with him perfecting his technique. The day continued with seemingly mundane patrol duties that unexpectedly transformed into a thrilling hunt for a group of monsters nesting within an old, forgotten mine. As night fell, his efforts culminated in the rewarding ritual of receiving a bear medallion around his neck, marking his successful completion of the hunt and his initiation into the esteemed ranks of the witcher's order.

He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, thinking about what tomorrow would bring. Would it be another day filled with excitement and danger, or a peaceful journey through the lands he had heard so much about?

Only time will tell. His final coherent thought before drifting off into a deep slumber.

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Before someone complains about Atram joining the witcher order let me explain my thought process. Sure he hasn't undergone their mutations or can't drink their potions but he is already a mutant and someone who has grown very close with them in the past few months. Him 'becoming a witcher' has more to do with his values than anything else. And them giving him the medallion has sentimental value for both parties.

Also, I think it will be spicier for him to see how people treat them firsthand and let him 'cough' 'deal with it' in his own way.