The Divine Hunter - Chapter 569

Chapter 569: Return to the Temple

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

It was the sixth of April. The year was 1265. Warm sunshine rained down upon the northern outskirts of Ellander. An exhausted caravan was traipsing through the thoroughfare leading to the temple. A dozen structures stood between the steep rocks and boulders, gleaming under the sunlight. It was almost vague.

Within the lively courtyards, priestesses in grey were going through their morning routines of watering the fields, harvesting the crops, feeding the chickens, and just general cleaning. The priestesses were young. Most of them were in their teenage years, while some were barely ten years old. A few of the livelier girls turned around and stared at the mighty caravan coming through.

The temple of Melitele saw many believers coming to pray every day, but seldom were there so many people showing up at once. Even when they noticed the group of witchers within the caravan, the priestesses didn’t look at them with contempt or discrimination. Their eyes were clear, their gazes kind. It felt warm in their presence.

The young men within the caravan felt a little embarrassed. Living their years in the outskirts meant they seldom had the chance to be stared at by so many ladies their age. Vicki and the other girls smiled at the priestesses, nodding at them.

Letho teased, “The temple of Melitele has an abundance of adorable priestesses. Every year, girls from all over the Northern Realms come to the temples, and priestesses graduate at the same time, taking up positions of seers, midwives, and healers of women and children in other temples.”

The children looked at the girls with acknowledgement. Like them, these girls left their homes at a young age.

Roy looked melancholic. When he came to this temple for the first time, Letho told him the same thing as well. It was in this very temple that Roy passed his first Trial and became a witcher of the Viper School. In a sense, this was where everything started. The temple was serene and peaceful.

For now.

Eventually, the flames of war would raze it down to the ground. And I will change its fate. This is a promise I made to Melitele.

“Letho? Geralt?” A curvaceous young priestess with an oval, freckled face came out of an antechamber. She stared at the cloaked witchers at the head of the caravan. First, her gaze was upon the bald witcher, but then she turned her attention to the White Wolf. Tears glistened in her eyes, and an embarrassing memory welled in her mind.

So many years ago, she was still an innocent priestess holding up her vow of celibacy for Melitele.

“Good morning, Iola. It has been a while, yet you are still as captivating as ever.” Geralt bowed. He was trying his best to stay calm, but his trembling cheeks betrayed his true emotions.

The children, smelling gossip, looked at Geralt and Iola with interest.

Roy looked at the curious children and broke the silence. “We shouldn’t tarry, priestess. I believe Mother Nenneke should have received the news?”

“You and your bad memory, Roy. I have told you not to call me Mother.” A gray-haired, plump woman in maroon robes spoke loudly as she emerged from the antechamber.

She looked about sixty years old, her wrinkles soft and gentle. The woman looked much like a mother who’d toiled for her family. Her chocolate eyes shone brightly, like candles lighting up the lives of those who needed guidance. “It’s horrifying to think that I could bear a child at my age, don’t you know that?”

She humphed, but there was a smile on her lips. Her steps were firm, and her robes billowed in the breeze.

“Very well, Grandmother Nenneke. My humblest regards to you.”

“That’s more like it. Welcome, child.”

Roy suffocated. Nenneke hugged him tightly for a moment before letting go. She looked at him lovingly like a mother, then Nenneke pinched his muscly shoulders. “The Trial’s gone well. It hasn’t been that long since you left, but look at you now. Strong and handsome.”

“All thanks to you.” Roy bowed. “You gave me a place to stay and taught me how to get through the Trial.”

Nenneke cocked her eyebrow. “Still, why did Melitele take interest in you? She gave me a message, telling me to welcome your… army of witchers.”

Geralt coughed.

“Ah, Geralt. Is that a cold I hear? Or an inflamed throat?” Nenneke whirled and glared at the White Wolf, but she was smiling.

Geralt looked at her with gratitude and anticipation. The White Wolf had a near death experience once, and Nenneke took him in and nursed him back to health. He had nothing but gratitude for the dame since then.

“By Melitele, you’re still the same Wolf as ever. Smell like one too. How long has it been since you took a bath? I honestly do not understand why those girls can’t forget about you,” Nenneke complained, but she hugged Geralt anyway, and she looked at the people around the caravan. “Now, I need an explanation. What’s with the army of witchers? Are you going to pledge your allegiance to Melitele? And what’s with the children?”

“Let’s take this inside, Nenneke.” Lytta stepped up and held Nenneke’s arm. Despite their actual age, Nenneke looked just like Lytta’s grandmother. One was loving, the other was gorgeous.

“Ah, so you finally came. What took you so long? Did your witcher lover hold you up?”

“More or less.”

***

Iola hurriedly led the witchers to the backyard where they could settle their steeds and carriages down. Nenneke led everyone else into the antechamber’s corridor. The children looked around curiously. Within the open doors were quiet rooms lit by white candles. Believers were praying before the statues of Melitele. There were the poor, who were donned in cheap clothing, and then there were the wealthy, who were donned in exquisite clothing.

Faith didn’t care which part of society’s hierarchy the believers were in. Some of them were even dressed in tatters. They were gaunt, skeletal, and almost cadaverous. There was worry and anguish upon their faces.

“Are those Cintra’s and Verden’s refugees?” Roy asked.

“The temple took in a few hundred of them right after the war broke out,” Nenneke explained. She noticed where everyone was staring. “The war has calmed down for now, and most of the refugees have gone to Vizima. The lands that were granted to Foltest are mostly stricken by war, and they require much rebuilding. Temeria needs labor, and they’re taking in refugees en masse.” Nenneke paused for a moment. “And Vizima’s new church is putting in the legwork as well, providing work and accommodation for the poor.”

“You mean the Church of Virtue?” Roy was reminded of Adda and Vivienne.

“Rumors claim that a Lady of the Lake is the patron of this church. In the past two years, it has become an even more prominent religion in Vizima than even the Eternal Fire. It’s almost catching up to the faith of Melitele.” Nenneke looked surprised. “Still, they have never expanded their influence beyond the borders of Lake Vizima.”

***

Roy stopped in his tracks as they went past a particular room. The candlelight shone upon the three figures within the room. One was in a scholarly robe. He was young, and he was squinting at an encyclopedia to read better. The man was reading an entry about swallows aloud.

A boy with short black hair and a girl with pigtails were seated behind the desks in front of the young man, listening intently. They would nod from time to time, as if they were puppies following their master’s instructions. They were dressed in grey, as per the temple’s rules. Both were beautiful and fair, almost like dolls. They resembled each other too, obviously meaning they were siblings.

The children reminded him of a certain werewolf. A cursed troupe master. A father named Alan. He could still see the werewolf in his mind, crying in the final moments of his life.

“Jarre!”

“Who’s there? I’m in a class right now. We can talk later.” Jarre the librarian stared at the handsome and dashing witcher. He wondered who this man was.

“It’s Roy. Have you forgotten about me?”

Jarre froze. He then looked up at the witcher, and his jaw dropped. “What happened to you? You grew so big. Any tips?”

“Well, you’re not exactly young anymore, but if you’d like to take the risk, I can probably get you through the Trial of the Grasses. You’d get some muscles and white hair. Maybe Iola’s going to fall for you, then.” Roy smiled.

Jarre shuddered. His glasses almost fell down his nose, and he shook his head violently.

“Alright, just joking. This must be Art and Lily.” Roy crouched before the children and held their hands.

Art and Lily were surprised by the stranger’s overly friendly attitude, but they didn’t squawk or flap their wings like birds anymore.

“Who are you?” they asked at the same time, their voices clear and beautiful as a songbird’s. They stared at the witcher. “You know us?”

Roy smiled and patted their heads. These children had been tormented by a curse for years. Now that they’d finally had their lives in order, he didn’t want them to relive the harrowing memories once again.

“I should go now. Teach them well, Jarre. Impart on them some skills. And you should be on the lookout, especially about Iola.” Roy huddled closer to Jarre and whispered something into his ear. The librarian got nervous.

***

Once Roy was done chatting with his acquaintance, Nenneke led everyone to the deepest courtyard in the temple. Underneath its beautiful roof were more than thirty empty rooms. Every room had two wooden beds and a yellow rug on the ground. They were also decked out with old but sturdy desks and chairs, oil lamps, and floral curtains that covered the wooden windows. Through the windows, the rooms’ inhabitants could see the priestesses working around the courtyard.

“Witchers, children, this shall be your abode from today onward.” Nenneke let go of her friend’s arm and looked around. “You may stay for as long as you wish, but I have two requests. One, follow the temple’s rules and follow the activities listed on the schedule. Two, don’t disturb the believers. Understood?”

“Yes!” the children answered.

Nenneke nodded in approval and looked at the witchers. “You decide who gets which room.”

“Alright. Vicki, you get to pick first.” Letho nodded at Vicki.

Vicki shook her head sheepishly and looked at her friends, but everyone gave her looks of encouragement. She’d been working herself a lot on the way here, keeping everything in check. Still, Vicki only picked a room at random.

“Renee.”

“Finally! I wanna share a room with Vicki! And I’m sleeping with her for a day at least! No, three days at least!” Renee held her friend’s hand, shouting in delight. She hopped happily like a bunny and ran into the centermost room, her pigtails swaying.

“The cheeky girl. Conrad, you’re next.”

Conrad made his choice.

“Oreo, you’re up.”

The children happily went into their rooms. For nearly two months, they’d been sleeping in the wilderness, and their bodies were sore. Sleeping in tents was not a great experience.

The witchers stood in different corners of the courtyard. They smiled at the children. If possible, they would like to see happy occasions like this forever.

“Carl, Monti, Acamuthorm, you guys have the last pick.”

“What? Why?” Acamuthorm leapt into the air like a bristling cat. He was shivering in anger. “This is discrimination!”

“And this is a badge of honor.” Serrit grabbed the medallion hanging before Acamuthorm’s chest. “You’re the oldest kids here. Let the younger ones choose first.”

The young witchers exchanged a look, their anger turning into delight.

“You make a good point.” Carl and his friends spoke. “We have a duty to protect the younger ones. Fine. They can have priority picks.”

“Good. Then you’ll be leading by example.” Felix knocked Carl’s head. He wrapped his arm around Carl’s shoulders and walked him to the end of the corridor. The witcher picked the room right beside the toilet for his protégé, and the kids who followed them laughed quietly.

“Alright, shut it. You’ve made your picks, haven’t you? Now get to the courtyard.” Felix had a stern look on his face, and everyone’s hearts sank.

***

“You seem to share a close bond with the Church of Virtue.” Grimm came to Roy, who was standing under the overhang. His eyes were blazing with curiosity. “Is there really a Lady in Lake Vizima?”

Roy whipped out Aerondight and extended his right arm. The blade shot into the air like a spear and joined Roy’s arm. He then curled his arm, and the blade was poised perpendicularly to his bicep. The dragon bone gleamed golden in the morning sun, shining upon Roy’s face. “Vivienne, that’s the Lady, gave me this sword as reward for passing her trial. Grimm, this might be goodbye. I can write a letter of recommendation for you. Take it to Adda, the high priestess in Vizima.”

Roy flicked his blade and sheathed it. “And perhaps you’ll have an audience with a Lady of the Lake. Probably not Vivienne, though. Undertake their Trial. Become a Lady’s knight. It’s a great honor aside from your existing one. So, what do you say?”

Grimm mused over it. “Are you kicking me out of the team?”

Roy shook his head, smiling. “No. We have some private business to settle, but you can stay at the temple and keep an eye on the children.”

***

“I can see these children are as close as a family can be.” Nenneke was standing in the shade of the roof with Coral. Curiously, she asked, “But as I recall, witchers believe in the rule of the jungle. They are grotesquely cruel with their protégés, their training involving near-death encounters.”

“That is a practice of the past, old friend. It is no longer in use. The witchers have written new rules.” Coral smiled, twirling a few strands of her hair. Proudly, she said, “There’s a reason we`ve had a dozen apprentices in the past few years. It’s hard to believe, but we have not had a single failed Trial up until this moment in time. Nor have the children developed any faults in their personalities. Still, they are sterile.”

Nenneke fell silent, and her frown disappeared. The gods are fair. They granted witchers power, but they took away their ability to sire children. If they could have children who could inherit their superhuman strength, this world would be doomed.

“So how long will you stay this time?” Nenneke massaged her temples.

“We’re leaving right away.”

“We?”

“Yes. All the witchers and I have to go. Besides the children, of course.” Coral scanned the courtyard. The older witchers had gathered all the children who’d picked their rooms, sternly lecturing them. The lecture did not seem to be interesting, and the joy in the air was fading fast. Carl and the feistier young witchers were having heated arguments with them, but they were shut down easily.

“Why are you leaving the children in my care? Will you be returning to Melitele’s kingdom?”

“Not just yet, no.”

Nenneke looked at her friend with concern. “You are hiding a secret. Why? I can help if you just tell me.”

“That’s amusing, Nenneke. You’re younger than m—” Coral looked at Roy carefully. He wasn’t listening. The sorceress patted her chest and heaved a sigh of relief. “I am not asking you to take care of them like they’re orphaned. See those young witchers? Don’t shrug them off. For a considerable period of time, they’ll be staying in the temple and keeping you and your priestesses safe. It’s a promise we made to someone. If you have time, please teach them how to navigate life more easily.”

“So you’re suggesting that danger is coming to the temple? Who would be so bold as to attack Melitele’s place of faith?” Nenneke mused. Is this why the goddess told me to give them a warm welcome? Because the young ones will be our guards?

“You will find out soon enough. As for us, we have a score to settle in Maribor.” Coral’s eyes glinted coldly. “A bloody score.”