Chapter 8: Plenty of Travelers

Nenneke stood in front of the entrance of the temple. In front of her, three individuals, two adults, one a child. One of the adults is white in hair, had a sword on his back, and a distinct necklace for all the people to see. The other, a young woman of striking beauty, her red hair framing a pale face that spoke of recent recovery from illness. Despite her youthful appearance, Nenneke recognized her true nature—an enchantress, a wielder of magic.

Yet, it was the third person who drew Nenneke's curiosity. A girl with ashen hair, her demeanor tomboyish and her gaze filled with curiosity as she scanned her surroundings.

"Mother Nenneke," the silver-haired man greeted respectfully.

A faint scoff escaped Nenneke's lips, the term 'Mother' not unnoticed. "Geralt. It warms my heart to see you at last. May the blessings of the Great Melitele continue to guide your path."

The man, Geralt, simply nodded. "I hope all is well within the temple."

"Why do you inquire?" Nenneke's brow arched inquisitively.

"We encountered a Scoia'tael attack on our journey here," Geralt explained.

"Are you suggesting the elves might turn against us? After all the goodwill we've extended?" Nenneke's voice held a hint of skepticism.

"I was just making sure." Geralt simply said. "They've gotten brave lately."

"You needn't worry about us, Geralt. As always, we accept all kinds of people, elves included." Nenneke turned her gaze to the child beside the man in front of her. "So, what brings you here? With a child no less." She turned to the sorceress. "And an enchantress."

"This is Ciri." Geralt introduced the girl to Nenneke. "She is—"

"Geralt." The sorceress behind him cut him off. "Don't say it outloud here."

Geralt grunted in agreement, his gaze scanning their surroundings. "Could we speak in private?"

Without relocating, Nenneke snapped her fingers, conjuring an instant barrier that enveloped them, muffling sounds from both within and without. "Speak freely now."

Geralt's reaction was a resigned sigh. "Very well."

—

Meanwhile, Argus trod the temple's paths, scrolls and notes cradled in his arms. A week had elapsed since he had taken up residence here, a brief hiatus from his tower. Yet the repository of knowledge held his attention captive. Magic theories, history, and the world's flora and fauna, so similar yet different from his own realm, all demanded his fascination. To study a civilization existing within an alternate universe was a privilege that rarely came knocking. His meticulous wizardry had enabled him to replicate nearly half the library's contents – a feat that would extend his sojourn here by perhaps another fortnight.

Suddenly, as he stepped out of the building, towards his encampment, he saw Nenneke, standing in front of the entrance with another three individuals in front of her. It looks like they're covered by a magic barrier, which made Argus raise his brow. Now that he thinks about it, it's the first time he has actually ever seen the people of this world using magic.

"Fascinating," he mused aloud, his gaze lingering on the mystical barrier. From the ground beneath to the lips of the conversing man, all was swathed in silence. "A barrier that stifles sound – reminiscent of [Private Sanctum], albeit more austere in its attributes..."

His scrutiny then shifted to the man engaged in dialogue, eyes reminiscent of a feline's, a sword resting upon his back, an enigmatic pendant gracing his neck, and a leather ensemble serving as armor. "A witcher, it seems," he postulated, musing on a concept that was absent in his own world.

He turned to the girl beside the man, she was looking at Argus, raising her brow, looking haughty. "She looks normal… Ashen hair… the witcher's child, perhaps? But I thought witchers can't have children?"

Now directed at the other adult stranger, a lady with an air of confidence, eccentric attire hinting at wealth, Argus could hardly fail to recognize the demeanor that was ubiquitous among wizards. Yet, her striking beauty and apparent youth begged further consideration. Unless Elven heritage coursed through her veins, her command over arcane arts would be deemed extraordinary to be able to learn it without much time – a sorceress or, perhaps, a warlock, otherwise, she'll be a hag by now if she walks the wizard's path. Of course, if other wizards looked at Argus too, they would think that he is a sorcerer too with that logic… with how young he looked.

Ignoring the looks of the little girl besides the witcher, Argus finally moved his gaze away from the barrier, walking again towards his camp to place these scrolls and parchments to his storage.

—

As the conversation between Geralt and Nenneke flowed on, Ciri's attention wandered to a curious figure who cast his gaze upon them. This man possessed an uncommon youthful appearance, coupled with a pointed ear reminiscent of an elven lineage. His peculiar attire, a robe that captured one's attention, held a certain mystique in the eyes of the young girl.

"Hmm, this child, a source?" Ciri caught the voice of the elderly woman before her, her thoughts interweaving with the scene. "I see... Very well, I shall take her under my wing and nurture her. However, I am intrigued. You've brought a sorceress to us, yet why couldn't she be the one to guide her?"

"I can't take care of her on my own. She's too powerful." the sorceress, Triss Merigold, spoke out. "I'm not experienced enough in this. I was wondering if you could do it, with the help of another."

"Another?" Nenneke arched a quizzical eyebrow, her demeanor shifting subtly.

"Yennefer." Geralt said. " I was planning on sending her a letter about this matter."

"Yennefer, you say?" Nenneke exhaled audibly. She approached Ciri, a gentle pat gracing the girl's hair despite her evident discomfort. "Very well, I shall contribute what I can for this young one."

"Thank you, Mother Nenneke," said Geralt.

"Don't thank me. Thank Melitele." she simply said. "Come."

The warding barrier dissipated, and the quartet embarked along the temple's path, passing priestesses and scribes immersed in their tasks. Yet, amidst this tranquil traverse, their attention was arrested by an individual that prompted Geralt's medallion to hum. This individual is the same one Ciri had fixated upon.

Abruptly, Geralt halted, the melody of his medallion refusing to fade, even after the man had passed by.

"Who is that?" Geralt inquired, his brow knitting inquisitively.

"Him? A mere wanderer," Nenneke responded succinctly. "An unusual wanderer, I might add."

"My medallion can't stop humming. Is he a sorcerer?"

"I harbor no doubts regarding his arcane nature," Nenneke answered. "But we do not ask questions here, Geralt, as you know. All he does is sit in the library all day long."

"He keeps staring at us before." Ciri suddenly spoke.

"It's his nature, from what I can tell." Nenneke reassured them. "He's curious about everything. And he seems foreign, he said he came from a place far away from here."

"Nilfgaardian?" Triss entered the conversation.

"No." Nenneke shook her head. "Definitely not."

"How can you tell?" Geralt probed further.

"You can talk to him if you're really curious." Nenneke hummed. "You will stay here for a while, I assume?"

"Only for a day." Geralt answered. "I can't stay here too long, otherwise…"

"I understand," Nenneke acknowledged with a nod. Her gaze then turned to Triss. "And you, sorceress?"

"I can stay for a day too. Though—"

"You won't stay in the dormitories." Nenneke guessed. "Very well, do what you want."