Chapter 468: A World of Difference
[TL: Asuka]
[PR: Ash]
Alduin was still raining down meteors on the burning town, but our friends had already escaped the vicinity of Helgen. Now, they were safely standing behind a mountain that blocked off the burning town. A gust of breeze sauntered through the air, and the veils of dusk slowly came down upon the land, staring at the view of the mountain.
The trio that had just escaped their predicament heaved sighs of relief.
“Praise to be Talos, we got out of that safely.” Ralof patted Flynn and Roy’s shoulders in gratitude. “And thanks to you two too. Or those Imperial dogs would’ve gotten me.”
“Oh, not at all.” Flynn waved his hands sheepishly. “I wasn’t of much help. You guys saved me, really.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re all friends now. You don’t get out of a life-threatening situation together and say nothing about it. So what’s next for you two? Anything you have in mind? You can come to Riverwood if you want. Lay low for a while. My sister has a sawmill there. It’s not far from here.”
Flynn nodded and stared over the river at the mountain’s base. “I’m a homeless tramp. It’s great that you’re willing to take me in. But what about our new friend? We don’t even know his name.”
“The language barrier proves to be a problem.” Ralof rubbed his chin. “Pardon me, but I’ll give you a nickname. Your eyes are really striking, so why don’t I call you Goldeneye?”
Roy frowned in curiosity.
“No shaking of head. I take that as a yes, then. Goldeneye… Yeah, you might not understand me, but you don’t talk much, so I assume you’re used to loneliness. A fellow homeless person, huh?” Ralof wrapped his arm around Roy’s shoulder and winked. “Come with me.”
Flynn followed Ralof, while Roy looked at the lush woods around him for a moment before he too followed them. The passage of the mountain was home to a big patch of purple flowers with thorny stems and leaves.
‘Thistle
Perennial
Habitat: Found in low areas.
Effect: Increases cold resistance, ?
Slightly poisonous.’
***
The thistles back in the world of witchers had a different look and effect than these thistles. If the strange constellations, Nordlings, and dragons failed to give it away, these thistles now practically told him he was in another world. And the barrier between worlds is what’s stopping me from contacting Gryphon.
“So that’s what Evil-Eye meant when he said I couldn’t stay. He exiled me to another world. Unbelievable. How the hell did they do it?” Fury flared in Roy’s eyes. “Grandmasters, Idarran, I’ll remember this. Payback is due.”
***
The trio descended the mountainside and stopped before a circular plateau. Standing before them were three stone altars the height of a regular adult male positioned in three points that would form a triangle if linked.
The altars were cylindrical with a hole in the middle of them. And on their surface were three different images. One was a man with a sword, another was a person with a dagger, and the last was someone with a staff.
“Seen these before?” Ralof crossed his arms. “Standing Stones. Thirteen of them in Skyrim. Corresponds to the number of constellations we know.”
Skyrim had nine administrative divisions. Its land was vast and rich with secrets. Flynn was but a young wanderer. This was his first time seeing a Standing Stone.
“And these three are known as the Guardian Constellations. The Warrior, The Thief, and The Mage. If any of you are born in their season, they’ll strengthen your talent if you touch them. Lasts for a month or so.”
Flynn was born in the season of The Lady. That was one of The Warrior’s constellations. He closed his eyes and approached The Warrior’s stone.
Roy felt his medallion hum, and he looked at his new friend. Once he put his hand on the Standing Stone, the stat he gained from The Lady changed from one point to two. Then the witcher took a step ahead and stood within the circle’s center, his eyes on the Standing Stones.
‘Stone of The Warrior
You have no constellation. But if you come in contact with it, you shall receive Blessing of the Stars—The Warrior (Passive). Lasts for one month. Those born in Last Seed (August) are tough and quick to temper. They are masters of weaponry. +1 to Strength. You master weapons at a twenty percent increased speed.’
‘Stone of The Thief
Blessing of the Stars (Passive): Those born in Evening Star (December) are adventurous and sensitive to danger. They are masters of evasion and concealment. +1 to Perception. Your stealth receives twenty percent increased effect.’
‘Stone of The Mage
Blessing of the Stars (Passive): Those born in Rain’s Hand (April) are prone to pride and arrogance. They possess better talent for magicka. +1 to Spirit. Twenty percent increased efficacy for the learning of magic and meditation.’
***
A surprised Roy looked at The Mage’s stone calmly. So everyone who’s born in Rain’s Hand in this world can master magic? But he denied that assumption right away. None of those Imperials were mages. Magic is still a privilege open to a few in this world. But that’s probably not because of its complexity. Roy had a feeling it was something else. Magicka. Wonder how much different is it from chaos energy.
Roy touched The Mage’s stone without hesitation. A sliver of magicka flowed into his fingertips. White light gleamed on the stone’s surface and flowed to the top. Then, a string of white light shot into the heavens, connecting with the constellation in the skies.
Roy felt a surge of energy flow into his body, and a message popped up on his character sheet.
‘You have received Blessing of the Stars—The Mage (lasts for one month).’
Roy closed his eyes. Aside from the one-point boost to Spirit, he felt nothing else. Maybe it’ll show when I meditate.
“Goldeneye went with The Mage, eh?” Ralof arched his eyebrow. He looked a little surprised and disappointed. Roy exhibited great skill in combat during their escape earlier. He wasn’t a great swordsman, but he was faster and stronger than most Nordlings. Ralof thought he was a warrior. And an outstanding one at that. But now he thought perhaps Roy’s strongest skillset lay in the path of magic.
Mages were mysterious, powerful, and yet fragile at the same time. They would spend most of their time hiding in their own institute, doing abhorrent research. Nordlings thought of mages as weaklings and allies of evil. Aside from healers and mages who played the role of support, all other sorcerers were nothing but pests in the eyes of the Nordlings.
“If he is a mage, then I guess he can’t be a part of the Stormcloaks.”
***
Once done with the stones, the trio descended the meandering path. Roy harvested all the new plants he saw along the way. Nirnroots, thistles, water caltrops, and everything else. They overlapped with the herbs he was familiar with, but at the same time, they were also different. If I can bring these back with me, maybe we can come up with some new alchemy items. Or even potions.
“Why are you harvesting these plants anyway, Goldeneye? Are you perhaps a healer? Or an alchemist?”
Roy grunted.
“Oh, sorry. Forgot you can’t talk our tongue. But don’t stuff those into your mouth. We got no doctors here. Nobody can save you from food poisoning.”
The trio walked for half an hour before they eventually came to a small town.
Riverwood stood at the mountain’s base. On its right was a gurgling stream, and the village was surrounded by old stone walls. It wasn’t a big village, and its stone houses were strewn haphazardly. About a hundred families were living in that village. Like its name, Riverwood had an abundance of wood and streams.
On the left side of the stream was a pile of wood. Upon a simple wooden bed was a circular saw driven by the power of a water mill, and it was cutting the wood that was passed through it.
Helgen stood in flames and ashes, though it was on the other side of the mountain. On this side, Riverwood remained tranquil and safe, its villagers blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked right beside the mountain. They went on with their lives, toiling on the fields, cutting wood, hunting, and blacksmithing.
The trio was greeted by a pair of men with bows, presumably the guards of this village. Flynn fell into nervous silence, while Ralof nodded at the guards and went around them.
Before the first house of the village stood an old woman, excitedly shouting out the story of a terrible dragon flying past the mountain. Her only audience was her son, and he shrugged his mother’s tale off, thinking it was her eyes playing tricks on her. The man kept trying to calm her down.
Flynn shook his head, sighing. He had a feeling Riverwood would soon share the horrible fate that befell Helgen. He would love to help, yet he was but a simple tramp. The only thing he could do was leave this place as soon as possible. And then Flynn saw a proud rooster strutting around the village path, pecking away at the wildflowers without any fear or fervor. Annoyed for no reason, Flynn felt like cooking the fowl.
Roy held him back, giving him a look that warned him against killing the rooster. It was but a bird, and yet Roy had a feeling harming this creature would bring untold danger to them. Weirdly enough, Observe showed no special message.
Reluctantly, Flynn shifted his attention away from the rooster.
An old whetstone stood beside the sawmill’s entrance. “Praise Mara!” And then, a blonde woman in a green dress came out looking surprised. “You’re finally home, dear brother.”
The woman held Ralof’s hand and stared at him with concern in her eyes. She had the same sharp chin and jutting cheekbones as Ralof did. “When I heard of Ulfric’s capture, I thought something might have happened to you.”
“Calm down, Gerdur. Talos and the heroes of Sovngarde have decreed that it was not my time to die. I’m fine. Oh, I have some friends here. Not comrades just yet, but they saved my life. This is Flynn, an… adventurer. This one’s Goldeneye. Comes from a land far, far away from the Empire. He doesn’t speak our tongue. The Imperial’s wrongful accusation robbed them of their homes, so…”
“Come with me.” Gerdur looked around. She told her son and her dog to go around town and keep an eye out for any incoming Imperials. Then she called her husband, Hod, who was working the saw. “Let’s talk in the house,” she said carefully.
***
The light of a candle shone upon Gerdur’s house, one that was roughly decorated and had the air of a primitive cave. Yet it had its charms. A lot more unique than the dilapidated shacks Roy had seen. The floor and walls were made of stones of different sizes, and the roof was made out of hay.
The house was filled with a lot of items. Cauldron on the fireplace, cut wood, shelves, wooden buckets, wooden crates, a table made of some pieces of wood slammed together, and some food on the table. There were potatoes and grilled fish there.
All the walls had random items hanging from them. Dried meat, garlic, or just decorative hides. It was a messy abode, and Roy felt a little dizzy.
“Ralof told me everything. Thank you for all you have done for him.” Gerdur served Roy and Flynn some hard bread, goat’s cheese, and hot stew. She uncorked a bottle of Alto Wine and poured a couple of glasses for them.
Roy sniffed the air. It was filled with the smell of fermented malt. The scent of it was almost intoxicating. Feels like the craftsmanship is older than Vizima stout’s. He and Flynn exchanged a look and wolfed down the food, while Ralof was nowhere to be found.
“Slow down. They’re all yours. Take your time.” Gerdur was apparently happy with how much her guests were enjoying her food. She then made an offer that moved her guests. “You can stay here for as long as you want. But if you have time, send a message to the Jarl. Tell him a dragon has appeared in Whiterun. Tell him we need more soldiers.”
“Where’s Ralof?” Flynn’s heart skipped a beat. He was planning to leave in a couple of days. This little quest was not what he had in mind. “Can’t he send the message himself?”
“Ralof has set off for Windhelm to join forces with the rebellion. You have witnessed their cruelty firsthand. Even the evil dragon came to vanquish their crimes against Jarl Ulfric.”
Oh gods, Ralof. Flynn rubbed his temples. You welcomed us to your home and left us alone. I can’t believe you set us up.
“Nordlings pride themselves on our faith in our ancestor and the real divine—Talos. But the Empire forbids us from practicing our faith just because they signed the White-Gold Concordat. A concordat of humiliation, I say. And they assigned Thalmor, our sworn enemy, to supervise us!” Gerdur turned red. With fury in her voice, she hissed, “No Nordling worth their salt would stand for that manner of humiliation. The Stormcloaks are no rebels. They’re allies of justice working to revive our true faith.”
The woman was an ardent supporter of the Stormcloaks. Flynn sighed. The Empire and Stormcloaks were supposed to be allies, but Thalmor managed to corrupt the Empire and start a civil war.
“Warriors, you must be—”
“But we’ve killed Imperial soldiers.” Flynn shook his head. “If we go to Whiterun, they’ll arrest us again, this time for the murders of Imperial soldiers.”
“Do not worry. Balgruuf the Greater is no supporter of either faction in this war. He’s neutral. You should be fine as long as you follow his rules.”
“But why me?” Still confused, Flynn asked, “Do I look like an errand boy to you?”
“Oh, no. Don’t take this the wrong way.” Gerdur quickly explained, “You’ve witnessed the tragedy firsthand. Your word makes for a more believable story.”
***
Flynn had no more reason to refuse, but the worry was taking over him. The food lost all taste to him. He should’ve refused the request, but whenever he imagined the fate that would befall Riverwood, a voice in his mind told him to do something about it. It felt like this was his destiny. Then he looked at Roy. If I want to do this, I need some professional help. I’m taking Goldeneye with me.
“Wanna come with me, Goldeneye? To Whiterun tomorrow?”
“Huh?” Roy gave him a questioning look.
“You aren’t shaking your head. I take that as a yes.” That’s one good trick, Ralof. A big smile curled his lips, and he wrapped his arm around Roy’s shoulder, thinking that he was safe now that he had a professional on his side. “Thanks, friend.”
***
Flynn had a long day. An escape from a burning city and a dragon, tormented by fear and worry, and then he had a hot meal in a safe village. Exhaustion eventually caught up to him, and he slept on the wooden bed in a room, snoring.
Roy stared outside the window, where the moon shone high up in the sky, hanging between the foggy, snowy caps. Silvery moonlight rained down onto the land, draping it with a glimmering sheen of ivory.
But Roy was staring at the moon in a stupor, not registering its beauty. Their beauty. This world had two moons, and they both had halos shining around them.
What a magical world. Nordlings, Imperials, Stormcloaks, dragons, constellations, and two moons. Wonder how many secrets are still waiting for me to uncover. He sat on a bed cross-legged, his attention on his own stats. Before he came to this world, Roy had leveled up, but he didn’t have the time to sort things out. For obvious reasons.
‘Roy
Age: Sixteen years old
Status: Viper, Manticore, honorary Wolf, knight of Lake Vizima, member of the brotherhood of witchers
HP: 320 (+80 from the Trial)
Mana: 310 (+80 from the Trial)
Strength: 15
Dexterity: 15.5
Constitution: 24
Perception: 12
Will: 27 → 29
Charisma: 9
Spirit: 22 → 23
Skills: Massacre Level 7, Witcher Signs Level 3, Sword Mastery Level 3, Griffin Arts Level 6, Witcher Senses Level 2, Observe Level 2.
Meditation Level 10, Alchemy Level 3.
Elder Blood (Passive), Trial of the Grasses (Passive), Avarice (Passive)
Level 12 Witcher (840/12500)
1 skill point and 1 stat point remain.’
***
Roy allocated his stat point to Will once more.
‘Will: 29 → 30.’
And then a long wall of text popped up on the character sheet.
‘Your Will has now reached Rank Three. You gain…
Massacre has yet to reach Level 10. No abilities gained.
You can now bend more creatures to your will and tame more mounts. +1 to mount slots.
You have bound Gryphon to one slot. 1 slot remaining.’
***
Roy’s heart skipped a beat. I thought Massacre would be powered up, but I got a mount slot instead? Wait. Can the character sheet actually hear my thoughts? It just solved my immediate problem. Language barrier is a pain for me. If I can tame a local, I can communicate with them through telepathy. No language barrier in telepathy. A living, breathing translator.
He couldn’t unbind Gryphon. She was the only thing that could lead him back home. And now an extra slot just solved his problem. Then he was reminded of the grandmasters’ conversation back at the fortress.
“I merged with a shard of the Most High? Could it be? Could this shard be evolving according to my needs?”
One slot left. Roy opened his eyes and turned his attention to the sleeping Dragonborn. He would be a good candidate, but Roy couldn’t possibly turn someone who had saved his life into his mount. That was evil. And he would never tame a human. I need a better target.
***
Roy tried to allocate his skill point to Meditation, but alas, nothing happened.
‘Meditation has reached max level. Requires more information for further level up.’
Okay, so I need more information about Meditation if I want to keep leveling it up. So what should I do with my skill point?
Observe was an important skill, given that he needed as much information about this new world as he could. But Massacre could evolve if it were Level 10. His Will was high enough for that skill’s evolution. Roy wanted to level that up as well. What should I do? Spend it on Observe? Or do I spend it on Massacre? It’s already Level 7.
Roy couldn’t decide. After killing so many people in the war, Massacre was already on the precipice of leveling up. Spending a skill point on it now would be a waste, so he kept it.
His weapons still gained no new effects. He could only strengthen the powers they already had, but none was what he needed. He saved the chance to power up his weapon like he did with his skill point. Let’s see what happens if I save up two powerup chances.
***
That was it for his level up. And for the first time in this new world, Roy closed his eyes to meditate. It took mere moments for a flash of light to leave his body and enter the darkness that was the world of meditation. Unlike the witcher world, there were no colorful particles of elements here. Nor was there any chaos energy. But there were particles smaller than the elements.
These particles were like seeds of a fruit, surrounding him calmly. Beyond the horizon should be where the elementals’ dimension stood, but they were absent. What took their place was a great, shining hole that burned as brightly as the sun. Surrounding it were countless holes that hung in the skies like stars.
Just like how the elementals’ dimensions would produce elements and chaos energy to replenish Roy’s mana, these holes spurt out energy particles to replenish Roy’s mana, and they were fast. Eventually, Roy was getting drunk on these particles.
The energy back in the witcher world was like beer, but magicka was like liquor. Absorbing it could make Roy drunk.
Two hours later, Roy stopped meditating. He was done. The night was still dark, and the moons still shone down on the lands. Our witcher felt energized, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes, the light of awe glimmering like stars within them.
Through meditation alone, Roy managed to absorb a small amount of souls.
‘+24 EXP (+4 from Blessing of The Mage)
Level 12 Witcher (890/12500).’
“I see. Magicka’s no mere elemental energy. It has souls and something else in it.” So I don’t even have to kill anything in this world to level up. I can do it if I have enough patience to meditate all the time. Twenty-four EXP in two hours. That’d be 288 EXP if I meditated the whole day. A lot more efficient than leveling up in the witcher world. But not the right time to do that.
“Magicka’s a lot purer and smaller than the elements. I suppose I can turn them into elements and cast spells with them.”
He tried to cast Staticshock, Furyfire, and all the other Signs in the world of meditation. To his surprise, they were thirty percent more powerful. But when he imbibed Roar in his Signs, they showed less potency than they did in the witcher world. Roar was a skill connected to the elements, yet there weren’t a lot of them in the air of this world. Nor could Roar manipulate magicka that easily either.
“The magic system here is a lot different than the one back in the witcher world. I’d love to witness it.”
Roy whipped out the bloodstone given to him by Vivienne. After he released Kunguran, the stone had been empty. The witcher meditated once more and tried to guide his magicka into the bloodstone. One of the elements in the magicka disappeared into the air, while another flowed into the stone. They were slivers of purple light, but unlike human souls, which were arrogant and fierce, the purple light stayed within the gemstone, filling it up.
A few hours later, the crimson bloodstone had turned light purple. A bloodstone filled with souls.
***
Roy observed it for a while. This might come in handy someday. I might need a mage to appraise this. The witcher tucked the bloodstone away and stayed silent for a moment.
Silvery moonlight shone upon him, illuminating the sadness on his face. Unfortunately, he did not see the balls of light that represented Letho or Coral here. The distance between worlds was too vast for his spirit to pass. “Coral, Letho, Geralt, Triss… I wonder what everyone’s doing.”
Chapter 468: A World of Difference
[TL: Asuka]
[PR: Ash]
Alduin was still raining down meteors on the burning town, but our friends had already escaped the vicinity of Helgen. Now, they were safely standing behind a mountain that blocked off the burning town. A gust of breeze sauntered through the air, and the veils of dusk slowly came down upon the land, staring at the view of the mountain.
The trio that had just escaped their predicament heaved sighs of relief.
“Praise to be Talos, we got out of that safely.” Ralof patted Flynn and Roy’s shoulders in gratitude. “And thanks to you two too. Or those Imperial dogs would’ve gotten me.”
“Oh, not at all.” Flynn waved his hands sheepishly. “I wasn’t of much help. You guys saved me, really.”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re all friends now. You don’t get out of a life-threatening situation together and say nothing about it. So what’s next for you two? Anything you have in mind? You can come to Riverwood if you want. Lay low for a while. My sister has a sawmill there. It’s not far from here.”
Flynn nodded and stared over the river at the mountain’s base. “I’m a homeless tramp. It’s great that you’re willing to take me in. But what about our new friend? We don’t even know his name.”
“The language barrier proves to be a problem.” Ralof rubbed his chin. “Pardon me, but I’ll give you a nickname. Your eyes are really striking, so why don’t I call you Goldeneye?”
Roy frowned in curiosity.
“No shaking of head. I take that as a yes, then. Goldeneye… Yeah, you might not understand me, but you don’t talk much, so I assume you’re used to loneliness. A fellow homeless person, huh?” Ralof wrapped his arm around Roy’s shoulder and winked. “Come with me.”
Flynn followed Ralof, while Roy looked at the lush woods around him for a moment before he too followed them. The passage of the mountain was home to a big patch of purple flowers with thorny stems and leaves.
‘Thistle
Perennial
Habitat: Found in low areas.
Effect: Increases cold resistance, ?
Slightly poisonous.’
***
The thistles back in the world of witchers had a different look and effect than these thistles. If the strange constellations, Nordlings, and dragons failed to give it away, these thistles now practically told him he was in another world. And the barrier between worlds is what’s stopping me from contacting Gryphon.
“So that’s what Evil-Eye meant when he said I couldn’t stay. He exiled me to another world. Unbelievable. How the hell did they do it?” Fury flared in Roy’s eyes. “Grandmasters, Idarran, I’ll remember this. Payback is due.”
***
The trio descended the mountainside and stopped before a circular plateau. Standing before them were three stone altars the height of a regular adult male positioned in three points that would form a triangle if linked.
The altars were cylindrical with a hole in the middle of them. And on their surface were three different images. One was a man with a sword, another was a person with a dagger, and the last was someone with a staff.
“Seen these before?” Ralof crossed his arms. “Standing Stones. Thirteen of them in Skyrim. Corresponds to the number of constellations we know.”
Skyrim had nine administrative divisions. Its land was vast and rich with secrets. Flynn was but a young wanderer. This was his first time seeing a Standing Stone.
“And these three are known as the Guardian Constellations. The Warrior, The Thief, and The Mage. If any of you are born in their season, they’ll strengthen your talent if you touch them. Lasts for a month or so.”
Flynn was born in the season of The Lady. That was one of The Warrior’s constellations. He closed his eyes and approached The Warrior’s stone.
Roy felt his medallion hum, and he looked at his new friend. Once he put his hand on the Standing Stone, the stat he gained from The Lady changed from one point to two. Then the witcher took a step ahead and stood within the circle’s center, his eyes on the Standing Stones.
‘Stone of The Warrior
You have no constellation. But if you come in contact with it, you shall receive Blessing of the Stars—The Warrior (Passive). Lasts for one month. Those born in Last Seed (August) are tough and quick to temper. They are masters of weaponry. +1 to Strength. You master weapons at a twenty percent increased speed.’
‘Stone of The Thief
Blessing of the Stars (Passive): Those born in Evening Star (December) are adventurous and sensitive to danger. They are masters of evasion and concealment. +1 to Perception. Your stealth receives twenty percent increased effect.’
‘Stone of The Mage
Blessing of the Stars (Passive): Those born in Rain’s Hand (April) are prone to pride and arrogance. They possess better talent for magicka. +1 to Spirit. Twenty percent increased efficacy for the learning of magic and meditation.’
***
A surprised Roy looked at The Mage’s stone calmly. So everyone who’s born in Rain’s Hand in this world can master magic? But he denied that assumption right away. None of those Imperials were mages. Magic is still a privilege open to a few in this world. But that’s probably not because of its complexity. Roy had a feeling it was something else. Magicka. Wonder how much different is it from chaos energy.
Roy touched The Mage’s stone without hesitation. A sliver of magicka flowed into his fingertips. White light gleamed on the stone’s surface and flowed to the top. Then, a string of white light shot into the heavens, connecting with the constellation in the skies.
Roy felt a surge of energy flow into his body, and a message popped up on his character sheet.
‘You have received Blessing of the Stars—The Mage (lasts for one month).’
Roy closed his eyes. Aside from the one-point boost to Spirit, he felt nothing else. Maybe it’ll show when I meditate.
“Goldeneye went with The Mage, eh?” Ralof arched his eyebrow. He looked a little surprised and disappointed. Roy exhibited great skill in combat during their escape earlier. He wasn’t a great swordsman, but he was faster and stronger than most Nordlings. Ralof thought he was a warrior. And an outstanding one at that. But now he thought perhaps Roy’s strongest skillset lay in the path of magic.
Mages were mysterious, powerful, and yet fragile at the same time. They would spend most of their time hiding in their own institute, doing abhorrent research. Nordlings thought of mages as weaklings and allies of evil. Aside from healers and mages who played the role of support, all other sorcerers were nothing but pests in the eyes of the Nordlings.
“If he is a mage, then I guess he can’t be a part of the Stormcloaks.”
***
Once done with the stones, the trio descended the meandering path. Roy harvested all the new plants he saw along the way. Nirnroots, thistles, water caltrops, and everything else. They overlapped with the herbs he was familiar with, but at the same time, they were also different. If I can bring these back with me, maybe we can come up with some new alchemy items. Or even potions.
“Why are you harvesting these plants anyway, Goldeneye? Are you perhaps a healer? Or an alchemist?”
Roy grunted.
“Oh, sorry. Forgot you can’t talk our tongue. But don’t stuff those into your mouth. We got no doctors here. Nobody can save you from food poisoning.”
The trio walked for half an hour before they eventually came to a small town.
Riverwood stood at the mountain’s base. On its right was a gurgling stream, and the village was surrounded by old stone walls. It wasn’t a big village, and its stone houses were strewn haphazardly. About a hundred families were living in that village. Like its name, Riverwood had an abundance of wood and streams.
On the left side of the stream was a pile of wood. Upon a simple wooden bed was a circular saw driven by the power of a water mill, and it was cutting the wood that was passed through it.
Helgen stood in flames and ashes, though it was on the other side of the mountain. On this side, Riverwood remained tranquil and safe, its villagers blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked right beside the mountain. They went on with their lives, toiling on the fields, cutting wood, hunting, and blacksmithing.
The trio was greeted by a pair of men with bows, presumably the guards of this village. Flynn fell into nervous silence, while Ralof nodded at the guards and went around them.
Before the first house of the village stood an old woman, excitedly shouting out the story of a terrible dragon flying past the mountain. Her only audience was her son, and he shrugged his mother’s tale off, thinking it was her eyes playing tricks on her. The man kept trying to calm her down.
Flynn shook his head, sighing. He had a feeling Riverwood would soon share the horrible fate that befell Helgen. He would love to help, yet he was but a simple tramp. The only thing he could do was leave this place as soon as possible. And then Flynn saw a proud rooster strutting around the village path, pecking away at the wildflowers without any fear or fervor. Annoyed for no reason, Flynn felt like cooking the fowl.
Roy held him back, giving him a look that warned him against killing the rooster. It was but a bird, and yet Roy had a feeling harming this creature would bring untold danger to them. Weirdly enough, Observe showed no special message.
Reluctantly, Flynn shifted his attention away from the rooster.
An old whetstone stood beside the sawmill’s entrance. “Praise Mara!” And then, a blonde woman in a green dress came out looking surprised. “You’re finally home, dear brother.”
The woman held Ralof’s hand and stared at him with concern in her eyes. She had the same sharp chin and jutting cheekbones as Ralof did. “When I heard of Ulfric’s capture, I thought something might have happened to you.”
“Calm down, Gerdur. Talos and the heroes of Sovngarde have decreed that it was not my time to die. I’m fine. Oh, I have some friends here. Not comrades just yet, but they saved my life. This is Flynn, an… adventurer. This one’s Goldeneye. Comes from a land far, far away from the Empire. He doesn’t speak our tongue. The Imperial’s wrongful accusation robbed them of their homes, so…”
“Come with me.” Gerdur looked around. She told her son and her dog to go around town and keep an eye out for any incoming Imperials. Then she called her husband, Hod, who was working the saw. “Let’s talk in the house,” she said carefully.
***
The light of a candle shone upon Gerdur’s house, one that was roughly decorated and had the air of a primitive cave. Yet it had its charms. A lot more unique than the dilapidated shacks Roy had seen. The floor and walls were made of stones of different sizes, and the roof was made out of hay.
The house was filled with a lot of items. Cauldron on the fireplace, cut wood, shelves, wooden buckets, wooden crates, a table made of some pieces of wood slammed together, and some food on the table. There were potatoes and grilled fish there.
All the walls had random items hanging from them. Dried meat, garlic, or just decorative hides. It was a messy abode, and Roy felt a little dizzy.
“Ralof told me everything. Thank you for all you have done for him.” Gerdur served Roy and Flynn some hard bread, goat’s cheese, and hot stew. She uncorked a bottle of Alto Wine and poured a couple of glasses for them.
Roy sniffed the air. It was filled with the smell of fermented malt. The scent of it was almost intoxicating. Feels like the craftsmanship is older than Vizima stout’s. He and Flynn exchanged a look and wolfed down the food, while Ralof was nowhere to be found.
“Slow down. They’re all yours. Take your time.” Gerdur was apparently happy with how much her guests were enjoying her food. She then made an offer that moved her guests. “You can stay here for as long as you want. But if you have time, send a message to the Jarl. Tell him a dragon has appeared in Whiterun. Tell him we need more soldiers.”
“Where’s Ralof?” Flynn’s heart skipped a beat. He was planning to leave in a couple of days. This little quest was not what he had in mind. “Can’t he send the message himself?”
“Ralof has set off for Windhelm to join forces with the rebellion. You have witnessed their cruelty firsthand. Even the evil dragon came to vanquish their crimes against Jarl Ulfric.”
Oh gods, Ralof. Flynn rubbed his temples. You welcomed us to your home and left us alone. I can’t believe you set us up.
“Nordlings pride themselves on our faith in our ancestor and the real divine—Talos. But the Empire forbids us from practicing our faith just because they signed the White-Gold Concordat. A concordat of humiliation, I say. And they assigned Thalmor, our sworn enemy, to supervise us!” Gerdur turned red. With fury in her voice, she hissed, “No Nordling worth their salt would stand for that manner of humiliation. The Stormcloaks are no rebels. They’re allies of justice working to revive our true faith.”
The woman was an ardent supporter of the Stormcloaks. Flynn sighed. The Empire and Stormcloaks were supposed to be allies, but Thalmor managed to corrupt the Empire and start a civil war.
“Warriors, you must be—”
“But we’ve killed Imperial soldiers.” Flynn shook his head. “If we go to Whiterun, they’ll arrest us again, this time for the murders of Imperial soldiers.”
“Do not worry. Balgruuf the Greater is no supporter of either faction in this war. He’s neutral. You should be fine as long as you follow his rules.”
“But why me?” Still confused, Flynn asked, “Do I look like an errand boy to you?”
“Oh, no. Don’t take this the wrong way.” Gerdur quickly explained, “You’ve witnessed the tragedy firsthand. Your word makes for a more believable story.”
***
Flynn had no more reason to refuse, but the worry was taking over him. The food lost all taste to him. He should’ve refused the request, but whenever he imagined the fate that would befall Riverwood, a voice in his mind told him to do something about it. It felt like this was his destiny. Then he looked at Roy. If I want to do this, I need some professional help. I’m taking Goldeneye with me.
“Wanna come with me, Goldeneye? To Whiterun tomorrow?”
“Huh?” Roy gave him a questioning look.
“You aren’t shaking your head. I take that as a yes.” That’s one good trick, Ralof. A big smile curled his lips, and he wrapped his arm around Roy’s shoulder, thinking that he was safe now that he had a professional on his side. “Thanks, friend.”
***
Flynn had a long day. An escape from a burning city and a dragon, tormented by fear and worry, and then he had a hot meal in a safe village. Exhaustion eventually caught up to him, and he slept on the wooden bed in a room, snoring.
Roy stared outside the window, where the moon shone high up in the sky, hanging between the foggy, snowy caps. Silvery moonlight rained down onto the land, draping it with a glimmering sheen of ivory.
But Roy was staring at the moon in a stupor, not registering its beauty. Their beauty. This world had two moons, and they both had halos shining around them.
What a magical world. Nordlings, Imperials, Stormcloaks, dragons, constellations, and two moons. Wonder how many secrets are still waiting for me to uncover. He sat on a bed cross-legged, his attention on his own stats. Before he came to this world, Roy had leveled up, but he didn’t have the time to sort things out. For obvious reasons.
‘Roy
Age: Sixteen years old
Status: Viper, Manticore, honorary Wolf, knight of Lake Vizima, member of the brotherhood of witchers
HP: 320 (+80 from the Trial)
Mana: 310 (+80 from the Trial)
Strength: 15
Dexterity: 15.5
Constitution: 24
Perception: 12
Will: 27 → 29
Charisma: 9
Spirit: 22 → 23
Skills: Massacre Level 7, Witcher Signs Level 3, Sword Mastery Level 3, Griffin Arts Level 6, Witcher Senses Level 2, Observe Level 2.
Meditation Level 10, Alchemy Level 3.
Elder Blood (Passive), Trial of the Grasses (Passive), Avarice (Passive)
Level 12 Witcher (840/12500)
1 skill point and 1 stat point remain.’
***
Roy allocated his stat point to Will once more.
‘Will: 29 → 30.’
And then a long wall of text popped up on the character sheet.
‘Your Will has now reached Rank Three. You gain…
Massacre has yet to reach Level 10. No abilities gained.
You can now bend more creatures to your will and tame more mounts. +1 to mount slots.
You have bound Gryphon to one slot. 1 slot remaining.’
***
Roy’s heart skipped a beat. I thought Massacre would be powered up, but I got a mount slot instead? Wait. Can the character sheet actually hear my thoughts? It just solved my immediate problem. Language barrier is a pain for me. If I can tame a local, I can communicate with them through telepathy. No language barrier in telepathy. A living, breathing translator.
He couldn’t unbind Gryphon. She was the only thing that could lead him back home. And now an extra slot just solved his problem. Then he was reminded of the grandmasters’ conversation back at the fortress.
“I merged with a shard of the Most High? Could it be? Could this shard be evolving according to my needs?”
One slot left. Roy opened his eyes and turned his attention to the sleeping Dragonborn. He would be a good candidate, but Roy couldn’t possibly turn someone who had saved his life into his mount. That was evil. And he would never tame a human. I need a better target.
***
Roy tried to allocate his skill point to Meditation, but alas, nothing happened.
‘Meditation has reached max level. Requires more information for further level up.’
Okay, so I need more information about Meditation if I want to keep leveling it up. So what should I do with my skill point?
Observe was an important skill, given that he needed as much information about this new world as he could. But Massacre could evolve if it were Level 10. His Will was high enough for that skill’s evolution. Roy wanted to level that up as well. What should I do? Spend it on Observe? Or do I spend it on Massacre? It’s already Level 7.
Roy couldn’t decide. After killing so many people in the war, Massacre was already on the precipice of leveling up. Spending a skill point on it now would be a waste, so he kept it.
His weapons still gained no new effects. He could only strengthen the powers they already had, but none was what he needed. He saved the chance to power up his weapon like he did with his skill point. Let’s see what happens if I save up two powerup chances.
***
That was it for his level up. And for the first time in this new world, Roy closed his eyes to meditate. It took mere moments for a flash of light to leave his body and enter the darkness that was the world of meditation. Unlike the witcher world, there were no colorful particles of elements here. Nor was there any chaos energy. But there were particles smaller than the elements.
These particles were like seeds of a fruit, surrounding him calmly. Beyond the horizon should be where the elementals’ dimension stood, but they were absent. What took their place was a great, shining hole that burned as brightly as the sun. Surrounding it were countless holes that hung in the skies like stars.
Just like how the elementals’ dimensions would produce elements and chaos energy to replenish Roy’s mana, these holes spurt out energy particles to replenish Roy’s mana, and they were fast. Eventually, Roy was getting drunk on these particles.
The energy back in the witcher world was like beer, but magicka was like liquor. Absorbing it could make Roy drunk.
Two hours later, Roy stopped meditating. He was done. The night was still dark, and the moons still shone down on the lands. Our witcher felt energized, but there was a hint of surprise in his eyes, the light of awe glimmering like stars within them.
Through meditation alone, Roy managed to absorb a small amount of souls.
‘+24 EXP (+4 from Blessing of The Mage)
Level 12 Witcher (890/12500).’
“I see. Magicka’s no mere elemental energy. It has souls and something else in it.” So I don’t even have to kill anything in this world to level up. I can do it if I have enough patience to meditate all the time. Twenty-four EXP in two hours. That’d be 288 EXP if I meditated the whole day. A lot more efficient than leveling up in the witcher world. But not the right time to do that.
“Magicka’s a lot purer and smaller than the elements. I suppose I can turn them into elements and cast spells with them.”
He tried to cast Staticshock, Furyfire, and all the other Signs in the world of meditation. To his surprise, they were thirty percent more powerful. But when he imbibed Roar in his Signs, they showed less potency than they did in the witcher world. Roar was a skill connected to the elements, yet there weren’t a lot of them in the air of this world. Nor could Roar manipulate magicka that easily either.
“The magic system here is a lot different than the one back in the witcher world. I’d love to witness it.”
Roy whipped out the bloodstone given to him by Vivienne. After he released Kunguran, the stone had been empty. The witcher meditated once more and tried to guide his magicka into the bloodstone. One of the elements in the magicka disappeared into the air, while another flowed into the stone. They were slivers of purple light, but unlike human souls, which were arrogant and fierce, the purple light stayed within the gemstone, filling it up.
A few hours later, the crimson bloodstone had turned light purple. A bloodstone filled with souls.
***
Roy observed it for a while. This might come in handy someday. I might need a mage to appraise this. The witcher tucked the bloodstone away and stayed silent for a moment.
Silvery moonlight shone upon him, illuminating the sadness on his face. Unfortunately, he did not see the balls of light that represented Letho or Coral here. The distance between worlds was too vast for his spirit to pass. “Coral, Letho, Geralt, Triss… I wonder what everyone’s doing.”
