"Two thousand orens, you said."

Lynn pulled a coin purse from his magically enchanted leather pouch and set it on the ground.

"Here's five thousand orens. Use this for now, and if it runs out, you can go to Vivaldi Bank in Novigrad and draw more from Vimme Vivaldi."

A preliminary investment of two thousand orens, with no end in sight to how much more would be needed – it was indeed daunting.

But this money couldn't be spared.

Don't let The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine fool you, where Geralt undergoes a second mutation trial and succeeds on his first try. That's the protagonist's plot armor at work. This is reality, not a game.

It was better to play it safe. Better safe than sorry, as they say. Besides, money lost could be earned back, but a brother's life, once lost, was gone forever.

Which was more important, money or a brother's life? There was no question.

As long as Yennefer could decipher Morreau's notes and optimize and refine his method of secondary mutation so that every witcher brother could successfully undergo it, then what was a little money? Especially since he'd just acquired so much treasure from Myrgtabrakke.

He simply refused to believe it. Could Yennefer, no matter how much she spent, truly burn through all that treasure?

Yennefer used her mage hand to levitate the coin purse Lynn had placed on the ground. She magicked a quick detection spell over it. She found it was entirely filled with gold coins, with no silver or copper mixed in. The purse indeed contained exactly five thousand orens.

And if she wasn't mistaken, Lynn had pulled this money from a storage item enchanted with an Expansion spell.

Yennefer narrowed her eyes slightly. Such storage items, due to their rare materials and the time and effort required to craft them, were extremely expensive. Even sorcerers couldn't all afford one. How could this young witcher...?

Yennefer gave Lynn a deep, penetrating look. In the end, she asked nothing, merely burying her doubts deep within her heart.

Next, Lynn told Yennefer his address in Novigrad and agreed upon a latest rendezvous time. Since Yennefer had never been to Kaer Morhen, she couldn't open a direct portal there. She would have to go to Novigrad first, meet up with Lynn and the others, and then travel together.

...

Emerging from the small house Yennefer had rented, Lynn had no reason to linger. It was time to head back.

He returned to the tavern where he was staying. He settled his lodging and food bills for the past few days. He even gave the proprietress an extra two gold coins as a tip, a gesture of appreciation for her diligent service over the last few days.

Then, he called out the street urchins who had been staying at the tavern. He sternly asked them again if they were willing to follow him.

The other children had no objections. Only one small, chubby boy mumbled a few words but didn't dare say anything more.

Upon Lynn's inquiry, he learned that after the little fat man had moved into the tavern, he'd woken up hungry one night. Unable to sleep, he'd snuck into the kitchen and baked himself a pie. But before he could eat it, the proprietress caught him red-handed.

The little fat man thought he was doomed. A good beating was surely unavoidable. But the proprietress merely tasted a few bites of his pie and asked him a few questions about cooking.

The little fat man hadn't thought much of it; he just nervously answered whatever the proprietress asked. In the end, the beating he expected never came. The proprietress simply told him to help out in the kitchen every day from then on.

Though the work in the kitchen was tiring and hard, it made the little fat man feel fulfilled. Especially when the proprietress praised his pies and bread, saying they were delicious and unlike anything she'd ever tasted.

Therefore, the little fat man wanted to stay. As for Lynn's "investment" in him, he promised to slowly pay it back once the proprietress started paying him.

Lynn smiled, seeing the little fat man so flustered and sweating. He wasn't conscripting anyone. He wanted their honest opinion. In Lynn's homeland, there was an old saying: "You can't force a melon to be sweet."

While the witcher profession granted immunity to illness and a long life, honestly, not everyone was willing to become a witcher. Inability to marry or have children due to mutations was one aspect.

Another was the constant torment of discrimination and prejudice that came with the job. This was why most witchers often succumbed to drink and debauchery, living day to day.

The School of the Wolf was better off. Even though Berengar and Lambert were witchers who intensely disliked their profession, they only grumbled. In the end, they still did their duty responsibly. But for other schools, Lynn had seen some less-than-ideal examples in the books at Kaer Morhen.

In fact, the initial schism of the witcher order was actually due to the "come one, come all" policy when recruiting apprentices, which sowed the seeds of discord.

Therefore, since this little fat man wasn't willing, Lynn naturally wouldn't force him or demand anything.

Lynn squatted down, looking the little fat man directly in the eyes. He patted the boy's shoulder and took out some copper and silver coins from his magically enchanted leather pouch, placing them in the little fat man's hand. It wasn't that he was stingy with gold, but giving too much money to a child like him would only harm him.

"Then you stay here and work hard," Lynn said.

...

A month later, Lynn returned to Novigrad with the seven children he had taken from Hollowpoort. He entrusted these children to Letho and George, who would be responsible for their training.

The physical training during the apprentice phase was largely similar; the method used by any particular school didn't make much difference.

Of course, Lynn also reminded them to ease up on the harsh standards of old witcher apprentices. Training until one's hands bled and not even allowing bandaging was simply too inhumane. Training was necessary and could be rigorous, but it shouldn't be overly anti-human.

One should treat their companions with the warmth and care of spring. Training methods that involved constant "spirit-injection sticks" didn't produce soldiers, but rather beasts.

After giving these instructions, Lynn suddenly found himself with nothing to do. But then he remembered he hadn't contacted Triss since returning from the south. He wondered if the red-headed sorceress was angry. So, he tentatively tried to contact her using the speaking tube.

After a long pause, the speaking tube remained silent. The witcher couldn't help but mutter to himself. Had she really gotten angry?

(End of Chapter)

....

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