Chapter 84: Where Snakes and Wolves Play (Part One)

The slums—every city has such a place: narrow, crowded, filthy, and squalid, a repository for all the city’s refuse and the concentrated sorrow lurking behind its splendor.

Victor Corleone had never been here before. He knew of its existence, but he would never have come of his own accord. Too many tragedies unfolded here; at every moment, there were sights or sounds that left him uneasy, and no matter how capable he was, he could not hope to set it all right.

As night descended, careful to avoid several puddles of unidentifiable liquid and ignoring the shouting and cursing around him, the youth reflected inwardly on everything he knew about the Viper School. That burly man, if nothing was amiss, should be called Letho—one of the few true powerhouses among the Vipers.

Victor remembered his appearance clearly: an imposing, bald man with exaggeratedly deep features, sturdy and solid as granite. He recalled that, in the game, Letho and the White Wolf seemed to have known each other for quite some time, and their early meetings were shrouded in misty conversation, hinting at a friendship forged in both rivalry and camaraderie.

Later, in a grand finale—the Battle of Kaer Morhen—he even fought as an ally. The details and reasons were lost to time; Victor’s memory was understandably hazy, for the story of a hulking brute was hardly worth wasting too much mental space on.

Nonetheless, Letho was a man worth befriending. That lingering impression from a former life was the reason Victor now chose to trust and meet them directly, even if their timely appearance was suspicious in itself.

Reviewing the entire affair, the sequence of their shining entrance was clear, thanks to Auckes’s loose tongue. A month ago, Victor had been found in the Vizima cemetery—an incident the witchers claimed was a coincidence.

And the Wolf School lived up to its reputation for expertise with explosives; “Whirling Star” had truly impressed him, though in reality, it was the effect of extraordinary alchemy.

Now, a month later, the three Viper witchers had gathered in Vizima, arriving just in time to help deal with the vampire woman...

It could not truly be said they saved him from the monster, for Victor had been confident he could escape unscathed. Moreover, easily acknowledging a life debt could have serious repercussions.

Witchers always worked for payment; there was a world of difference between the price of helping with a monster and the cost of saving a life. The former could be settled with coin; for the latter, one might be asked to repay through the unpredictable “Law of Surprise.”

Besides, their timely arrival made it obvious they had been keeping an eye on him—or, more bluntly, watching him. What could a Wolf School apprentice possibly have that would interest fully-fledged witchers of another school? No matter how he considered it, there was only one answer...

At this thought, Victor noticed Auckes’s cheerful smile and the way he waved his right hand—clearly waiting specifically for the witcher apprentice.

“Ah! I win! I knew you’d come tonight!” His tone was as lighthearted and jubilant as ever.

Joining up with the witchers, Victor followed in his steps. “What’s going on? You were betting on when I’d show up?”

Auckes replied merrily, “That’s right. Serrit said you’re quite shrewd, and that you might not appreciate us jumping out to help so suddenly—in fact, you’d probably be wary of us. Maybe you’d come in the end, but only after a day or two of consideration, perhaps bringing a few well-armed ‘friends’ along.”

Hearing this, Victor felt his cheeks warm, for he knew that, had it not been for the spoilers granted by crossing worlds—if not for his choice to trust these three—Serrit would have been right. He really would have thought twice about meeting, maybe even bringing backup.

“But I disagreed, of course! You can’t always assume the worst of people. I think you’re great. Even as an apprentice, you’re already diligently harvesting monsters like a seasoned farmer—with the drowners and the Great Spined Tree, you handled it all beautifully. If I hadn’t checked that your pupils hadn’t changed, I’d have thought you were a full witcher already.”

Victor kept silent—yet another person moved by his “dedication.” In the Middle Ages, noble virtues could be converted into real value; people would rationalize everything you did because of them.

“So we made a bet—twenty Orens. I said you’d come tonight, and you’d come alone. You didn’t let me down…”

Still, Victor said nothing. He sensed Auckes didn’t need a response—he just liked to talk.

Soon, winding through the alleys and streets, the youth stopped by a campfire on the banks of Lake Vizima, where he once more saw that granite-like, massive figure.

Auckes tilted his head, gesturing toward the fire, signaling Victor to go ahead while he himself stayed behind, keeping watch.

Thanks to their shared life at Kaer Morhen, Victor trusted in the witchers’ keen senses; he was certain the man by the fire knew he was there. Still, he did not approach from behind. The apprentice deliberately circled around to face the giant head-on, a gesture of respect—and a way to grant himself time to observe before conversation began.

Another man by the fire, eating roasted fish and maintaining a cold, stern expression—Serrit—noticed his approach, stood, nodded to Victor, and silently withdrew, leaving space for the conversation between the giant and the youth.

Seated by the fire like a hibernating bear, the man looked up at Victor, resembling a tiger rousing from sleep. “Sit. Looks like Auckes won the bet.”

Victor accepted the invitation with poise, sitting cross-legged and laying his sword at his right side. “Yes, Auckes won.”

The giant leaned forward, extending a massive hand. “Letho, from Guletta, Viper School witcher.”

So, it really is you, Letho... It’s been a long time.

Victor grasped the offered hand. “Victor Corleone, from Bell Town, east of Cernykania—Wolf School witcher apprentice.”

Letho chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “A good start. An honest one. Now, we’ll take turns asking questions, each answering what weighs on the other’s mind. You may begin.”

He poked at the fire, then pulled up a skewer of roasted fish, handing it to the youth.

Taking the fish and collecting his thoughts, Victor spoke calmly and steadily: “First, thank you. Thank you all for arriving in time to help with the vampire woman.” With this opening, he defined the value of their presence—not quite a life-saving debt, but certainly the merit of timely aid.

Letho’s strong, chiseled face remained unmoved as stone.

“My question: while I hid my school’s origin in Vizima, how did you find out? And your timely arrival suggests you’ve been watching me. Why is that?”

The night breeze stirred the campfire, making it crackle.

“We were able to arrive in time and help you with the vampire woman because…” Letho’s words acknowledged the price Victor set for their shining entrance. By witcher code, monster-hunting was a paid service—no debt for saving a life, but Victor was still obliged to be grateful.