The Ways of Fate || The Witcher

Chapter Two

"Let's just start with names, shall we? I'm Vesemir." Vesemir placed his hand on his chest and then swept it towards Geralt. "And this is Geralt," who then nodded his head in greeting.

Flustered, but controlling himself, the man answered. "Name's Fimel. Please, I beg you, you have to help me."

After hearing the man's request, the witchers agreed to hear out his story once Vesemir had stipulated that they do so with a full belly. They now found themselves sitting at his dinner table with a large plate of aged cheese and day-old bread, two small flagons of mead already half empty.

Seemingly satisfied that the witchers had quelled their appetite, the man launched into his story. "It's my brother, Nithal. He's been gone nigh a week now. He hunts, you see. Only game has gotten scarce, what with the war and all. He's had to go further and further afield to find anything worth eating. Told me he was crossing the river to look for deer. Should've been back days ago. But everyone says I don't know what I'm talking about. That he is just taking longer than expected."

"They do have a point," Vesemir chimed in. "Hunting takes patience. Sometimes things take longer than you plan."

"Aye, but this is different, I can feel it. Something isn't right."

"Perhaps he just got lost. If he's had to go further out than he normally does, then he wouldn't know that part of the woods," offered Geralt, taking another swig of mead.

"No, there's no chance of that. My brother is not the kind to get lost. Even if he were, he's got Ripper with him." At the looks of confusion on the witcher's faces, he added, "His dog. Ripper always knows the way home."

Geralt set down his empty mug on the table. "Alright, fine. So he's not lost and he's not hunting. Then you realize what the logical conclusion is, don't you? I don't mean to be grim, but chances are that your brother is—"

"No, Nithal isn't dead. I can't explain how I know it, but I do." Vesemir and Geralt exchanged doubtful glances. Fimel continued on despite their skepticism. "Look, all I want is for someone to go looking for him. Pick up his trail, find him, bring him back." Geralt opened his mouth to say something, but Fimel stopped him with a placating gesture. "And if what you believe truly has come to pass, well then... then at least I'll know what happened. I could take solace in that if nothing else."

An audible sigh escaped Geralt's lips. He didn't want to delay their journey and he hated getting involved in matters that didn't concern him. But contrary to what he led everyone to believe, he did have a conscience. He couldn't just abandon such a desperate man when there was clearly no one else willing to help. Plus, they had already accepted Fimel's hospitality. It would be a little uncouth to turn him down now. What could it hurt to poke around the woods a bit? They would probably find the brother's body across the river, torn to pieces by wolves and be back by the next morning. Fimel erased any remaining doubt in Geralt's decision with his next statement.

"I'll pay you anything you want. Anything, it's yours. Please, I beg you, find my brother."

Vesemir raised his eyebrows in a politely amused way, prompting Geralt to voice his decision.

"Fine," Geralt grumbled. "We'll look for your brother. But I make no promises as to what condition we might find him in."

The man looked as though he were about to cry, he was so overjoyed at the news. "Oh, thank you, sirs, thank you!"

Having both finished their food, the two witchers stood as one, Vesemir giving a slight groan as he did so and placing his hands on his hips. "Well, no point in dawdling. Point us in the right direction and we will be on our way."