"Brothers and sisters of Lebioda!
"The end is coming! Make amends for your sins now, and accept all of the Holy Book! Our prophet wrote, 'It is sometimes right to stay away from the pleasures of the flesh and avoid one's own comfort. To value the happiness of one's neighbor above one's own comfort is worthy of praise.'
"Therefore, we of the Eighth Day Flagellants constantly whip ourselves and cause our own flesh pain, ensuring that everyone in the world can endure success. Any evil, sickness, or sin still remaining in the dark corners of the world is absolutely not because we do not whip ourselves diligently enough!"
...
Regarding the faith of the Flagellants, Victor had no opinion. In the medieval era, there were far too many strange and even evil religious explorations. The Flagellants' choice to whip themselves was still better than tying people to stakes and burning them. Besides, Lady Pinastri had no intention of preaching to the witcher either.
Sitting on a chair and watching her brew the potion, Victor carefully memorized the ingredients of the "graytop potion." Fortunately, aside from the graytop, the other ingredients were all normal and non-toxic.
And judging by the method of preparation, this so-called potion simply involved throwing herbs into a pot and boiling them. There was nothing especially miraculous about it. The female hermit was an ordinary herbalist, not an alchemist.
...
Several hours later, Victor took the finished potion from her hand, walked outside, sat down in the potato field, drank it all in one gulp, and lay down.
The reason he chose to test the potion outdoors was because according to his memories from his previous life playing as Geralt, after drinking the potion, one would grow dizzy, faint, and then wake up able to hear the voice of his mount, the legendary divine horse Roach.
That was right! The side effect of the graytop potion allowed people to converse with horses. Naturally, the alchemist was very interested in such an amusing potion.
Pinastri, who had followed him out, saw Victor run into the field to drink the potion and could not understand what was going on at all. She could only classify it as a witcher's eccentricity, then turned around and continued tending to her herbs.
But before long, although the female hermit had long known that drinking the potion would produce hallucinations, she still blinked, unable to believe what she was seeing and hearing.
She saw the witcher walk over to his horse, reach out to smooth the mare's mane, and begin introducing himself. "Hello, friend! Can you understand me? I'm Victor of Kaer Trolde. My titles are too long, so I won't mention them. I'm afraid you wouldn't remember. Sorry I never gave you a name before. Or do you have some way of referring to yourself? Are you willing to tell me?"
The next few minutes felt extremely long to the worried Pinastri. She was wondering whether there had been an error in the preparation steps, or whether she had used too much graytop. The witcher's hallucinations seemed very severe.
Fortunately, not long afterward, he stopped the strange act of communicating with the horse and stood in place, thinking.
Victor sighed. His current mood was one of great disappointment. Although he had already had a bad feeling after drinking the potion, when he neither felt dizzy nor faint, only heat on his cheeks, he had still wanted to try. He had rolled up from the ground and actively attempted to converse with the mare.
His tone had gone from friendly and cordial to threats and temptations. He used several languages he was proficient in to communicate with the horse, and even tried a variety of dialects, including a northern drawl, but none of it was any use. The mare simply opened her moist, innocent eyes and looked at her master.
Finally, the witcher had no choice but to admit that this graytop potion, at least Pinastri's version of the graytop potion, had no effect on him in its main function, "horse communication." Only its side effect, "spirit vision," did indeed make that black horse-shadow much clearer.
"I... I'm sorry. Perhaps I prepared the potion incorrectly and caused you to have such severe hallucinations... Are you all right now?"
Hearing her voice, Victor turned his head and saw Pinastri with both hands clasped before her chest, her movements and expression revealing nervous unease.
Scratching his hair, he comforted her gently. "Thank you for your concern. I'm fine right now. I did not experience any hallucinations. Of course, from a certain point of view, I'm also very much not fine."
After saying that, he waved his hand, took out Specter Oil, poured it over his silver sword, and walked toward the black horse-shaped evil spirit, intending to end things cleanly and swiftly.
While inside the cabin earlier, he had inspected the surroundings and confirmed that the evil spirit had slightly drained the hermit's blood and stamina. Although it had not caused obvious harm, that kind of chronic mental pressure might also be a way to slowly torture her, making the victim's suffering last even longer.
However, the witcher's plan for a quick battle did not succeed. Sensing that the other party was charging at it without fear, the horse-shaped evil spirit, Umbra, turned and fled. Victor had no choice but to turn back, mount his horse, and give chase.
This evil spirit did not seem too difficult to deal with. By using the Yrden Sign to form a boundary, once it charged in, it would be a deathmatch inside a cage. So during the chase, the boy had the leisure to recall his vague memories regarding this task.
...
Time soon reached deep night. Hearing the clip-clop of hooves, the female hermit initially panicked, thinking that the horse-shaped evil spirit had come again. But she quickly heard that the sound of its landing was not terrifying and heavy, but light and cheerful. It was the witcher returning!
She got out of bed, lit a candle, and opened the door to welcome him. In the darkness, that man and that horse appeared with a dashing bearing.
Riding closer, Victor leapt down from the horse's back and led it in a leisurely walk. "Hi! Honourable lady, relax. Everything is over. I can guarantee that evil spirit will never appear again."
"Ah... Is what you say true? Lebioda bless you. Thank you truly for your help." Pinastri pressed her hands together and thanked him sincerely. "Please come inside and rest. Although there isn't much good food, the mashed potatoes I just pressed tonight are very fresh."
Victor tied the horse to a wooden post, then stuffed it a handful of hay. "That's fine. I like mashed potatoes. I have some dried meat in my pack. Perhaps you'd be willing to eat something with me? A bowl of meat soup will help a lot with the ill effects caused by the evil spirit. Although the Flagellants don't like enjoyment, they shouldn't forbid eating a bit of meat now and then!"
"Thank you for your kindness." She did not refuse.
...
At the dining table in the little cabin, eating mashed potatoes and softened jerky, the tormented old woman seemed to have far fewer wrinkles on her face.
"Knight Marcello Clerici... you know him, don't you?" Victor delivered food into his mouth with a spoon and began the topic indistinctly.
Pinastri froze. "How... how do you know that name?"
He brushed the blond hair falling over his forehead back behind it. "I had to know. He is that horse-shaped evil spirit!"
In shock, the spoon in her hand fell to the floor. "No... That's impossible. Although he was a rude, violent bad man who did not understand mercy, he would never hurt me!"
"Don't get worked up. Listen to my detailed explanation. I chased him on horseback for a very long distance before catching up to him at the cemetery where he was buried. Fortunately, he regained awareness and took the initiative to communicate with me. Otherwise, I might have killed him directly.
"He truly did not want to hurt you. But for existences like evil spirits, there are naturally moments when they lose consciousness. Right now, it is still the beginning. He merely occasionally finds it hard to endure his bloodlust, and he can still control it.
"But as time passes, he will eventually forget everything bit by bit, leaving only his original obsession. Still, even for the sake of that original obsession, he would not kill you. He simply would not be so friendly toward other people passing by."
The female hermit lowered her head dejectedly. "His... his soul is actually still lingering in the world. Why in the world is he unwilling to leave? When you spoke with him... how did he look? Why did he become an evil spirit?"
The witcher rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Relax. He looked quite good, wearing the armor he was buried in during life. His awareness was clear, and he expressed himself without issue. As for the reason he cannot leave, it is precisely because of you. He believes he must obtain your forgiveness before he can peacefully go to heaven.
"That thought caused him to unknowingly curse himself. Put another way, one could also say that he was cursed by you! I believe you definitely remember that horse, Flame, which he whipped to death!"
"I cursed him? No! How could I possibly curse him? Although I was furious at his cruelty, I also pitied his soul.
"Yes, of course I remember that horse named Flame. That poor child, simply because it made a mistake during a knightly tourney, was beaten to death by him. I cannot forgive his actions!
"So I joined the Flagellants. Through whipping myself, I sincerely prayed for Lebioda to forgive his soul."
Victor snapped his fingers. "That is exactly why he cannot leave. In his heart, he has always remembered this matter, causing him to find no peace even after death. Every day, he came here because he was actually begging you to show mercy. Only by stopping your self-flagellation can he find peace."
After listening to Victor's words, Pinastri covered her face with both hands and fell silent. Clearly, she had sunk into the classic memory sequence.
In certain mysterious texts, this sort of memory sequence could last quite a long time, such as when Namek was about to explode, or during a buzzer-beater three-pointer. So the boy did not disturb her. While eating, he reviewed the knight's confession.
In the nameless cemetery,
Knight Marcello Clerici, now transformed into an evil spirit, had a clear figure. Even the feathers inserted into his helmet were vivid. "We knew each other since childhood. We were childhood friends. I loved her, but she was always unhappy. Her mood never improved. Nothing could please her.
"She felt the world was complicated and terrifying. I thought her unhappiness came from poverty, so I did my best to take us away from the village and begin a new life elsewhere.
"Later, I became a knight's squire and moved her into a large house, but Pinastri soon grew weary of that life and fled from me to join the Flagellants. I left home to look for her, yet she drove me away and said she did not want anything to do with me."
Sitting on the cemetery steps, Victor propped his cheek with his hand. "You definitely did something that made her very angry. If she were simply tired of it, then when facing you, she would not have driven you away. She should have felt guilty instead."
"...Inside the darkness of the grave, the world of the living is bright and dazzling. In life, no matter what I did, I could not understand her. Only after death did I realize that she was simply constantly searching for herself.
"Wandering around her, I finally saw her thoughts clearly and understood why she drove me away.
"It was because of that horse named Flame!
"Once, I had a chance to become champion of the knightly tourney. She was happy for me, and I wanted to win for her. But my mount, Flame, caused me to fail. Blinded by fury, I beat the horse to death.
"Although I did not hurt her, that kind of frenzied brutality frightened her and made her refuse to forgive me!"
"Good. Looks like you're self-aware. She is full of anger and concern. That is probably the reason you turned into an evil spirit after death. You were unintentionally cursed by her."
...
The recollection ended.
"So... how was it resolved afterward? Did you use the silver sword on your back to completely destroy him?" Pinastri raised her head, clasping both hands as she stared at Victor.
"Don't be nervous. After all, I'm not some demon either. For a conscious existence like that, one that can still communicate, there's no need to draw a sword. Although people all say witchers have no emotions, I consider myself quite an emotionally rich young man.
"I helped the knight develop a new train of thought and told him that the one whose forgiveness he truly needed to beg for was not yours, but Flame's. If the mount he beat to death could forgive its master, that would be true redemption! And you would also feel released."
After a moment of silence, the female hermit nodded. "That is indeed so, but Flame is already dead."
"No matter. Thanks to my mount, who represented Flame in friendship, listened to his apology, and nodded to express acceptance."
"This... can that really work? How did you make the horse nod?"
"The method is not important. Facts speak louder than words. Knight Marcello has already been freed and ascended to heaven. That is enough, isn't it?" Victor had no intention of explaining.
Although luring the mare with a carrot to make her nod did seem like an extremely childish method, since the evil spirit yearning for release had acknowledged it and believed it, the effect of lifting the curse was objective.
Inside the herb-filled wooden cabin, dry firewood burned in the hearth, making crackling sounds.
Without speaking, the aged woman lowered her head and stared at her interlocked fingers. Drops of water fell onto her hands one by one.
Everything that needed to be said had been said. Victor silently ate the mashed potatoes, with nothing more to say.
Perhaps it was the wind stirring the grass and trees, but outside the window, there was suddenly the sound of a horse's neigh. It came from the "holy horse" that had redeemed Knight Marcello.
She suddenly rose, picked up a plate, took out a carrot, and walked outside to reward it.
The witcher did not follow her out. He sat at the table and continued eating mashed potatoes one spoonful at a time. He guessed that the female hermit might also have many things she wanted to confess to the "holy horse."
...
The next morning, after sincerely refusing Pinastri's potatoes, Victor rode the "holy horse" and vanished along the forest path.
As for the most important reward, the graytop spore powder, it had naturally been stored in his herbal satchel. He had also carefully confirmed the cultivation method with the female hermit. Once he returned to Corion Manor, this project would need to be started immediately.
Although it had no effect on him, after solving the headache problem, the School of the Wolf or other witchers would like such a toy. Geralt had Roach, and Eskel had Scorpion. They would definitely like hearing their good partners' true thoughts.
Of course, when he had the chance, he would also have to make a trip to Ellander and bring the thing to the Temple of Melitele for Mother Nenneke. As one of the few people who had taken the best care of Victor since he came to the witcher world, she would certainly like this gift.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters //[email protected]/Razeil0810