Yennefer frowned. If he just knew she wanted a child, that would be understandable. She had mentioned it to Geralt once, and perhaps Geralt had told him. But the fact that he knew her reason for joining the dragon-hunting party and details about the fertility-restoring surgery...

"Who exactly are you? How do you know all this?"

"I am a Witcher, but also a prophet."

"A prophet, you say?"

Yennefer was speechless. She had lived for so long. She had seen many so-called prophets, seers, dream-readers, and mediums. While not all of them were frauds, she had certainly met very few genuine ones. And even the genuine ones couldn't see into Yennefer's heart.

How old was this boy in front of her? Sixteen? Seventeen? And he dared to call himself a prophet. Didn't he know...?

"That child is a fallen princess. Her country was trampled by enemy hooves; her family died by enemy swords."

"It took her months to finally meet Geralt, who brought her back to Kaer Morhen and trained her according to the standards of a Witcher apprentice."

"Of course, they didn't give her the Trial of the Grasses, nor did they try to turn her into a Witcher. But even so, the training she received at Kaer Morhen was enough to allow her to protect herself in troubled times."

"Later, she met you, and you met her."

"At first, you disliked each other, but eventually, you will grow to love each other—of course, I mean a parental kind of love."

"She is your child."

"Though she shares no blood with you, she would do anything for you, and indeed, she does."

Yennefer eyed Lynn suspiciously, who spoke with such conviction. She instinctively didn't want to believe what the Witcher had just said. But Lynn's enigmatic demeanor didn't suggest he was speaking nonsense. More importantly, there was Lynn's identity. He was a Witcher, and like Geralt, he was trained by the same master.

Although Yennefer had never met Vesemir before, she knew the old man was unusual. The Wolf School Witchers he trained all had a trait that Witchers from other schools lacked: a 'boring sense of morality'. Even when they were dirt poor, sometimes even living hand-to-mouth, they insisted on maintaining that boring sense of morality.

Yennefer had, on more than one occasion, earnestly advised Geralt to abandon his damned morality, to broaden his horizons, to open up his perspective. His life would have been much better. But he simply refused to listen.

In Yennefer's view, the Witchers' poverty was a consequence of their own stubbornness, but she also had to admit that such stubbornness prevented them from spiraling into depravity and becoming villains.

In an instant, Yennefer retracted all her magical power. The oppressive sensation that had filled the room, as if even the air had solidified, vanished without a trace.

Yennefer waved a finger like a conductor. The sofa, tables, chairs, floor, and ceiling, ruined by the magical outburst, all restored themselves—including the Witcher's cheek, which had been scratched by the magic.

"To be honest, even now, I can't believe if your so-called 'prophecy' is true. Even prophecies made by sorcerers often turn out inaccurate. Even if you truly are a prophet, it doesn't mean much."

"However, I don't have anything planned this winter anyway. Visiting the legendary stronghold of the Wolf School might be a nice trip, like a vacation."

"But don't get excited yet. I have a few conditions. I'll only agree to go to Kaer Morhen if you meet them."

Lynn made a welcoming gesture.

"First, since you wish for my help in analyzing the second mutation, I now require you to hand over Moreau's notes to me."

"Alright."

Without a word, Lynn pulled out a notebook from his runic leather pouch and tossed it over.

"This concerns the secrets of your Witchers. You're not even hesitating?"

"I trust you... Also, this notebook is a copy I transcribed myself in my spare time, based on the original. The original is quite old now, and there's a high risk of damage, so please don't mind."

Yennefer caught the notebook with a mage's hand. She casually flipped through it. Although it was a copied version, the content was accurate. She nodded and put the notebook away.

Truth be told, while she couldn't fully believe Lynn's earlier statements about her having a child in the future, she was somewhat satisfied with Lynn's current attitude in seeking help. If Lynn had been secretive, insisting on waiting until Kaer Morhen to give her the notes, or had made various excuses... she would have simply thrown him out.

"Second, improving and optimizing the second mutation won't work with just imagination and theory. I'll need experimental data as a basis."

"That means I'll need a set of laboratory equipment. It must be brand new, not old, as that would affect the experimental results."

Yennefer's demands were within the Witcher's expectations. This was perfectly normal; these things couldn't be achieved through mere theoretical discussion.

"How much money do you need?"

"At least two thousand orens. That's just the initial investment. I can't say how much more funding will be needed afterwards."

How much?

No wonder Witcher research had virtually stagnated and made no further progress since their split. Even before the Siege of Kaer Morhen, when there were still resident sorcerers in the keep, it was useless. Without research funds, even the most capable person can't make bricks without straw.

Some might ask, how did Moreau manage to create the second mutation then? Is that comparable? Moreau, in his desperation to "normalize" his son, didn't hesitate to spend years of savings and even incurred considerable debt.

The resident sorcerers at Kaer Morhen? That was just their job. Have you ever seen a university professor spend their entire fortune to boost their school's ranking? That would truly be working for free, wouldn't it?

Yennefer saw Lynn remain silent. She thought he was struggling with the money. She knew he probably didn't have that much money.

After all, even Geralt, an old hand who had been active in society for decades, might not have two thousand orens saved up. Let alone this overly young Witcher.

Of course.

Even though she knew he likely didn't have that much money, seeing that he knew Geralt and had prophesied her future, a child who wasn't her daughter but better than a daughter—she wasn't entirely unwilling to take a good look at the notes for him. As for the increased risks due to a lack of experimental data, she couldn't help with that.

....

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