Chapter 129: The Troubles of Geralt the Witcher
"Strike faster! Strike faster! The temperature of the billet is dropping!"
"Do you see this color? This shade means the heat is perfect. Once it starts to dull, it has to go back into the forge for a reheat."
...
After Percival demonstrated each step by hand, he handed the physical labor entirely over to Arthur, grabbing a bottle of beer and settling in as a hands-off manager. Though Arthur was kept as busy as a spinning top, he didn't have a single word of complaint the gnome's speech might have been slightly slurred from the ale, but his advice was pure gold.
For every action Arthur took, the gnome would circle around him, chanting key principles like a mantra: Why you do it, how you do it, and what constitutes a job well done.
Under Percival's "forced-entry" style of teaching, Arthur's smithing skills improved at a meteoric pace. By the time night fell, the steel billet had already been hammered into a rough outline by Arthur's monstrous strength.
Percival let out a boozy hiccup and motioned for Arthur to slide the sword blank into the ash pile for a slow cool. "That's enough for today," he said with satisfaction. "Go back and rest. Be here early tomorrow."
Arthur set down the hand hammer and pushed through the door, heading toward the inn. It was the height of a chilly spring, and the night wind forced pedestrians to wrap their cloaks tight, but Arthur felt as though a hearth fire was leaping in his chest.
In just over half a day, his smithing proficiency had surged. He had started as little more than an Apprentice, but now he had surpassed the level of a Journeyman an incredible rate of improvement.
Moreover, this wasn't like the fragmented experience points bought in a game. Percival was transmitting more than just experience; he was teaching a comprehensive system of knowledge. Under his guidance, Arthur had moved past the blind exploration of "I reckon this works" and onto the scientific path of "Because of X, therefore Y." Even if Percival disappeared tomorrow, following this path would eventually lead Arthur to become an Expert, and perhaps even a Master.
Percival, that fellow... he might have the face of a swindler, but he's actually quite decent, Arthur thought. He was tight-lipped at first, but once moved by my 'sincerity,' the little guy really teaches the good stuff!
When he returned to the inn in high spirits, he found the group in varying states of mind. Geralt sat with a hollow gaze, looking utterly distracted. Occasionally, when someone spoke to him, it took him a full half-second to react a shocking delay for a Witcher who could deflect crossbow bolts in mid-air.
"What's wrong with him?" Arthur whispered, leaning across Zoltan to ask Dandelion.
The Great Bard had completely shed his travel-worn weariness and looked radiant. One didn't need to ask; he had clearly successfully wooed that noble lady.
"What else could it be? He failed to win her back, of course," Dandelion said, rolling his eyes at Geralt with a look of "he's hopeless." He whispered into Arthur's ear: "I'm only telling you this because we're friends, so don't tell anyone else..."
The poet spoke rapidly, his speech peppered with plosives. The hot breath made Arthur uncomfortable, feeling as if bugs were crawling in his ear.
"Let me tell it instead."
Just as Arthur was about to reach up and dig at his ear, Maria tapped the poet's shoulder and sat down beside him.
I thought you were only telling me... Arthur thought dryly.
Arthur was only dazed for a moment before Maria, with a faint smile, began to recount Geralt's romantic history.
It was common knowledge that this prodigy of the School of the Wolf was famous for three things: playing Gwent, meddling in trouble, and loving sorceresses. The most famous of his flames was Yennefer she of the "raven hair and violet eyes." The tale of their tumultuous, death-defying love was widely circulated among both commoners and high society.
However, few knew that as of now, the two had been separated for two years, though they remained perpetually on each other's minds.
"Wait a moment how do you even know they're still pining for each other?"
Arthur interrupted Maria's narrative. Normally, when a couple loves that fiercely, they either end up as bitter enemies or treat each other like strangers after a breakup. How could they possibly be "perpetually on each other's minds"?
He shot a suspicious look at Dandelion, strongly suspecting this was just another dramatic flourish invented by the bard.
But Maria shook her head with small, quick movements, pointing a finger toward the swords on Geralt's back, her eyes sparkling. "See those two swords? Geralt lost them once in Kerack, and it was Yennefer who helped him get them back."
"Oh "
Understanding dawned on Arthur. To be bailed out of a predicament by an old flame... anyone would catch feelings after that.
"So, Geralt plans to win the sorceress back?"
Maria nodded like a chick pecking at grain, her fine strands of hair brushing against Arthur's face and making him want to sneeze. "The Witcher spent the entire afternoon browsing Giancardi's Jewelers. He planned to give Yennefer some gemstones, but the dwarf there told him that gemstones are the last thing a sorceress needs. He suggested the Witcher spend the money on fine delicacies instead..."
At this point, Maria giggled, intentionally raising her voice a pitch higher. "If you ask me, there's no need for gems or gifts at all. All Geralt really needs to do is look her in the eye and say, 'I missed you.'"
Hearing his name suddenly mentioned, Geralt snapped his head up like a student caught dozing in class. He looked around, only to find everyone staring at him with a grin.
He hadn't been completely oblivious, just lost in thought. He immediately realized what was happening. "Dandelion! You've been running your mouth about my private business again!"
Dandelion's face instantly twisted into an expression of impending doom. He scrambled to his feet and beat a hasty retreat toward his bedroom, muttering incomprehensible nonsense about "creative freedom" and "artistic license." The hall was briefly filled with a jovial atmosphere.
(Translator's Note: According to lore, 'Season of Storms' takes place around 1245 or 1251. However, chronologically, Geralt's entanglement with Lytta Neyd occurred after his breakup with Yennefer. Following the sequence of 'The Last Wish' - 'The Bounds of Reason' - 'A Shard of Ice' - 'Season of Storms' - 'Sword of Destiny' - 'Blood of Elves,' this should be around the year 1260.)
"Ahem. Speaking of which, what happened to your face?"
Seeing Geralt's embarrassment, Arthur attempted to shift the focus to Zoltan. Compared to when they parted, Zoltan's face was now map-marked with bruises, and his lip was split he looked like he'd been in a proper brawl.
The dwarf caught Arthur's intent and played along. "Well, now that I've got some coin in my pocket, I went to find a few kinsmen who run smithies around here. Wanted to talk about buying into their business..."
Koglgrim asked, "And how much did you offer them?"
Zoltan held up a hand the size of a cattail leaf fan. "Five hundred crowns! It took two whole bags to hold it all!"
"Then how did you end up getting thrashed?"
Arthur was genuinely curious now. Five hundred crowns was no small sum; even a top-tier professional like Percival would be left light-headed by that much gold. "Just how much of a stake were you asking for? Seventy percent?"
"Heh... well, you see, I got a bit too excited and said what I was really thinking."
Zoltan rubbed his hands together, looking slightly sheepish. "I asked for a hundred percent."