The Divine Hunter

Chapter 185: Lammas and Griffin Taming

“Merten of Manticore School? Never heard of him.” Serrit and Auckes squinted at the marker on the map. “Are you sure he left blueprints of his school’s equipment in a hidden church in Toussaint?”

“Roy, are you sure you’re not pulling some sort of joke so you can lead us to the wilds?”

“Believe me. Merten exists, and so do the blueprints.”

“And what about the thing with Kolgrim?” Letho looked at another marked map, and he also had a lot of questions. “Many years ago, Master Ivar Evil-Eye sent him to look for lost blueprints of our school’s equipment, but he suddenly went missing and lost contact with the school. You saw him die in Temeria’s…White Orchard with your powers?”

“I can’t be sure about that. Perhaps Kolgrim has perished, or perhaps that hasn’t come to pass just yet,” Roy answered truthfully. “But we won’t lose anything by checking it out. If we can find any clues that lead us to Kolgrim, we’ll have another witcher back in our school. Of course, that would be an unexpected but pleasant surprise.”

The White Orchard was where dreams began for Roy, and he had always wanted to pay a visit to that place. “If we follow this map’s guidance and manage to find the blueprints, I take it that you’ll believe me and travel to Novigrad?”

The witchers nodded and kept the map carefully.

“It’s not a far journey to Temeria’s White Orchard, but a round trip to Toussaint would take more than a month,” Letho said. “We can’t waste any more time.”

“Wait, Letho. Can we delay this trip for just a few days?”

“Reason.”

Everyone looked surprised, but Auckes rubbed his hands. “You should be more sensitive to what’s happening around you. It’s going to be Lammas in three days. Even death-row inmates have a right to the last supper. Witchers have the right to celebrate Lammas as well. Letting loose before a big mission helps with focus.”

Realization struck Roy. Lammas was one of the eight traditional festivals of this world. It signified the start of the harvest and Midaete. It was the first harvest for the fall, and it was when preparations were made for the fall. Everyone would feast on a hot meal made from the first harvest, go on a parade, and dance around a bonfire.

“Can you say something luckier? What do you mean ‘the last supper?'” Serrit smacked the back of Auckes’ head, and he eased up. “It’s been years since I had my first meal of Lammas.”

Being a witcher was dangerous. Death lurked at every corner, and witchers would enjoy every good moment they had. Even an uptight guy like Letho accepted that suggestion tacitly. “Lammas is more solemn than Midaete, kid. You should see what it’s like.”

Nobody objected, and their eyes were lit with excitement.

“Good. Seems like we’ve reached an agreement. As a veteran who has taken part in thirty-two Lammas celebrations…” Auckes suddenly gave his comrades picky looks, as if their attire didn’t sit well with him. “I will be your attire advisor. Listen to me and clean yourself up. Even witchers can please a lady.”

“Oh, I won’t be taking part,” Roy said, refusing. He needed time to tame the little griffin.

“You promised you would never miss any of the school’s operations, and now you’re already going back on your word? Not a chance.” Auckes winked at the other two, and they looked at Roy.

“Are you being shy, Roy? You aren’t exactly young, you know? Boys your age have already sired children in Aedirn villages. Don’t you feel anything about it? It’s time to learn how to deal with your desires.” Auckes continued, “If you feel awkward, then you can wear whatever you please. You’re handsome enough to attract a drunken woman or two in even leather covered in blood and monster fur.”

Roy slowly backed away to the door. They’re starting to give me some pimp vibes.

***

“I can’t go with them. If I make a precedent, it’ll open up more chances to waste my time.” Roy shook his head and tossed the idea of fooling around with women away. He had the devil of desire residing in his heart, and he knew that.

Sometimes, having too much energy was a side effect of witcher mutations. When witchers had no monster to kill, their surplus of energy would become a kind of torture for them. Even so, Roy knew some habits must not be cultivated. He went to the stable and caressed Wilt’s neck. “Wilt, my boy. Sorry for setting you aside for so long. We’ll celebrate Lammas together. Just you and me.”

Wilt listened to Roy closely only to shake his head and neighed at him. Then the stallion went to a mare and grinned at it toothily. He raised his front legs and just like that, he lay on the mare’s back. The horses’ breathing turned hot and heavy as they moved, and a rancid smell started to fill the air.

“This can’t be real!” Roy’s face froze. “A beast is mocking me? Stop!”

Wilt was forced to stop, and it howled at its master who interrupted its fun so unscrupulously.

“That’ll teach you not to laugh at me ever again.”

Wilt shook his head, tears of anguish and regret filling his eyes.

“Fine, you useless beast. Carry on.” Roy scolded Wilt playfully, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. If he wanted to tame the griffin, then he had to give up his current mount. “Wilt, even if nobody’s going to talk to you anymore, never forget to stay happy, alright?”

He tensed his hand and smacked Wilt’s hind.

‘Do you wish to unbind your mount?’

Yes.

Just like that, the connection between Roy and Wilt was cut off. He closed his eyes and tried to feel Wilt’s existence, but he couldn’t hear the horse’s thoughts anymore. It was as if something had gone missing in his soul, and he felt empty.

Wilt, however, did not realize what had just happened. The stallion was still having his fun without a care in the world. Even though the bond between him and Roy was cut off, the teamwork between them still existed, and Wilt still acknowledged Roy as its master.

***

Roy went on the streets of Cintra. The air was filled with the scent of Lammas even though the festival would only start tomorrow. The people who walked the streets looked jovial, and they would greet the people around them happily. Some young people were hiding at the corners of the streets, shyly looking at the partners they would want to have during Lammas, while families were holding hands and strode down the streets, laughing merrily wherever they went.

Banners hung on the walls of the buildings that flanked the streets, and they were filled with festival greetings written in multiple languages. Soldiers were leading the worksmiths as they measured the streets’ size and made wooden fences in preparation for the parade. Merchants who set up shop along the way were hollering and selling merchandise pertaining to the festival, including but not limited to clothes, alcohol, and fireworks.

Everyone was immersed in the merry season of the festival, but Roy went straight to the tent located in the marketplace’s center.

Galar came to welcome Roy. “It’s been a while since you came to see Gryphon, Mr. Roy.” He was in a new blue silk robe, and the man was beaming. “The little one has lost a few pounds. It misses you.”

“As if. It probably has been living large these few days.” Roy approached the steel cage. The griffin had grown a little since the last time he saw it. Its fur and feathers looked lustrous and healthy.

The griffin was lying in its cage, licking its claws languidly like a lion who just had a full meal. When it noticed someone approaching its cage, the griffin tilted its head to the visitor. Suddenly, it raised its head and stood up, as if it were agitated.

The griffin seemed to look angered. Its eyes turned crimson with fury, and it craned its neck. Its beak protruded through the cracks of the steel bars, and it spat its tongue out at Roy. The beast made an ear-piercing sound, and flapped its wings and banged its claws against the steel bars, as if it were trying to tear Roy apart.

Roy was sure the griffin would assault him if someone were to open the cage. “It’s only been a few days, but it’s already seeing me as its worst enemy.” Trying to tame it with Fear is a bad idea.If griffins were so easily tamed, they wouldn’t have been called the proudest beasts in the world.

“Calm down, Mr. Roy. Gryphon isn’t angry at you. It’s probably in its teenage years, so it can’t control itself.” Beads of sweat poured from Galar’s face, and he hastily explained, “It’s been quiet recently, and it hasn’t acted up during the exhibition either.”

Galar was worried. If Roy were to kill the griffin, he would lose his best stream of income.

“It’s alright. I won’t hurt it.” Roy met the griffin’s gaze without fear or fervor. “Give me the cage’s key and leave me.”

“Wh-What are you going to do?”

“Have a little chat with it.”

“D-Do please have mercy on it.” Galar struggled with himself, but eventually, he left the room, albeit reluctantly.

“Galar, there might be a lot of noise later, but ignore it no matter what. I’m just playing with it.”

***

Roy concentrated on his character sheet and spent his stat point.

‘Will: 11.5 → 12.5.’

His Will was finally more than double that of the griffin’s, and he fulfilled the condition to forcibly tame the beast. “Will you resist, or will you bow to me just like Wilt did?” Roy touched its protruding beak, and while it thrashed around, the young witcher uncorked Swallow.

Black veins started crawling up his face, and the potion contorted his face with power. “I can chain you down and tame you forcibly, but…” Roy cracked his knuckles and neck. “You wouldn’t bow to me if I tamed you that way, so you’ll have one chance, so listen closely, Gryphon.” Roy made a Quen sign in the air, and yellow light started covering his leather. “If you can break free of the taming, you’ll get your freedom back. I promise that on my name as a Viper School witcher. But if you can’t, you’ll be my mount.”

Roy opened the cage, freeing that griffin. He crouched and pounced on his prey.

***

Galar was standing outside the camp, horror etched on his face. The entrance to the tent was in front of him, sounds of things clashing, biting, screaming, and the howls of a man coming from within, as if a hurricane were brewing right inside that tent. He would take a glance within from time to time, and the cage where the griffin was locked was shaking violently, as if it would explode at any given time. If nothing else, it reminded him of a shaking bed.

“What is Mr. Roy doing in that cage? What does he want to do to that griffin?” Galar could picture something morbid in his mind. The young witcher was looking like a demon who crawled straight out of hell, and he was pinning down the helpless griffin, pounding it with his iron fists. Galar put his hands in a prayer and closed his eyes. His beard shivered, but he prayed, “O Goddess Freya, please spare the poor griffin’s life. You may take the witcher’s in exchange.”

Fifteen minutes later, all the turmoil in the tent disappeared, and it was replaced by silence. Someone opened the cage’s door, and a slender silhouette came out of it. The dim sunlight shone through the tent, shining down on a young man, but he looked worse for wear. His black leather, which was perfect before he entered the cage, was in tatters. Gashes decorated his skin, and even his face was injured. His left cheek had a big bruise on it. He seemed exhausted, and his footsteps wobbled, as if he hadn’t slept a wink in three days.

“M-Mr. Roy, wh-what happened to you? Did a bandit rob you?” Galar asked with a trembling voice, but his attention was on the cage behind him. Is the griffin dead?

“It’s nothing. Playtime with Gryphon got a little out of hand, that’s all.” Roy whistled loudly, and a little creature that looked like a combination of a lion and an eagle pounced out of the cage.

The beast looked all banged up. Its grey hair was just as unkempt as its mane, but its eyes had a brilliant light shining within them, and it zipped over to the young witcher like the wind. The little beast gurgled softly and rubbed its head against the witcher’s leg, as if he were the beast’s own father.

Roy heaved a great sigh and patted the griffin’s nape with his left hand. He seemed content and happy, though the thought of the earlier battle still sent stabs of pain up his head. Compared to Wilt, Gryphon was at least ten times harder to tame. Gryphon harbored intense hatred toward Roy from the moment he activated Forced Taming, and it assaulted the young witcher.

Not even Fear could calm it down, and Roy was just like a little canoe facing the wrath of the ocean on a stormy night. One wrong step could cost him his life, and all he could do was ride on Gryphon’s back, holding its wings and mane as if his life depended on it. It was all he could do to evade the griffin’s attacks and assaults. If too much distance was put between them, Forced Taming would fail, but facing the beast face-to-face would put Roy at a disadvantage. He had no claws like the griffin did.

He had to keep using Quen to defend against the onslaught, but the griffin still kept attacking, even after he had exhausted his mana. In the end, the griffin took out a third of Roy’s health pool, and Roy felt his muscles and bones screaming out to him in pain, but eventually, the fifteen minutes of hell was finally over.

After what happened this time, Roy realized that some of his earlier thoughts had been so naive it was laughable. Even a young griffin could put him in danger when Roy tried to tame it by force. If he did that to a grizzled witcher like Letho or Geralt, they’d probably kill him in ten seconds. His target would have to remain conscious throughout the whole process, and that would mean destroying what friendship they had if Roy tried to tame them.

After all, humans were different from beasts. Under most circumstances, nobody would remain friends with someone who tried to turn them into their mount.

Roy’s Will was enough if he wanted to tame the Lady of Space and Time, but if he tried to do it, Roy knew her Elder Blood would go berserk and possibly kill him.

***

The young witcher shook his head and killed his unrealistic thoughts. Taming Gryphon was already a great achievement in and of itself. Not everyone could meet a young griffin on their travels. His preparations were already done, and once the griffin grew up, Roy could soar through the air on its back.

“Mr. Roy, are you taking it with you now?” Galar asked as he licked his lips.

“You can keep it for now.” Roy patted the griffin’s smooth back. It wasn’t like he could get a free griffinsitter every day, and he would use that advantage for as long as he could. “You can carry on with the exhibit.”

The witcher went down and patted the ground, then the griffin rolled over, revealing its belly for Roy to rub. Roy swung his arm to his left, and the griffin stood back up to roll over to its right. When Roy swung his arm to the right, the griffin rolled to its left, just like it was a trained dog.

Galar’s jaw dropped.

“If you should find it missing sometime down the line, then it would mean it has come with me. Your exhibit will come to a close when that time comes, understood?”

“Of course, sir.”

Roy would summon Gryphon to his side once he found a better place for it to stay, and he would start its hunting training. After all, griffins could make great mounts, but they were the apex predator in the animal kingdom, and they were the best partners in monster hunting.

***

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