Chapter 217: Spellbook

Roy carefully went around the soldiers patrolling the Royal Palace and infiltrated the late royal consultant’s villa. Since Roy had killed the owner of the estate, he did not have to worry about triggering the alarm after destroying the traps. According to Kalkstein, the Zerrikanian sorcerer graduated from Ban Ard, but he had never joined the Brotherhood of Sorcerers and was estranged from the sorcerer organization in the north. He did not have any sorcerer friends either. They did not have to worry about anyone coming to claim Azar’s wealth.

Roy looted and pilfered everything he could. The laboratory was not the only place he targeted; every single room in the villa was looted. Halfway through his looting, he noticed pieces of human bones under a room’s floorboard. There were about ten persons’ worth of human bones tucked away.

The bones’ surface was corroded from all sorts of weird concoctions. Roy could imagine the pain the victims had to suffer while they were alive. He collected all the dead’s remains, planning on burying them outside the city. “Azar was already experimenting on humans? He was one cruel bastard.”

Sorcerers might have great power and long lives, but they had creeds they had to follow. It was the rules northern sorcerers came up with so they could live peacefully in the kingdoms. The one rule was they must never force regular humans into experiments. Most of them involved black magic. The only exception was if the experiment was made known, safe, and had received the consent of the test subject. Anyone who was found violating this rule would receive public judgement. Most of them would end up getting their hands cuffed in dimeritium for centuries.

Azar did not do as the Romans did, or in this case, the Vizimians did. However, he did manage to hide his experiments well. According to the original lore, Azar could have lived for more than a decade. He would become one of Salamandra’s executives and perform experiments on regular humans in an attempt to turn them into witchers. “Hundreds of lives are saved now that he’s dead.”

Azar died more than ten years before he should thanks to Roy’s suggestion. Adda contacted the Lady of the Lake and set off a chain of events that brought about his early demise, and the political scene in Vizima was undergoing a huge change at the moment. “Hm, now that Azar’s dead, I wonder if Salamandra’s going to exist. If they cease to exist, that means I’ve helped Kaer Morhen out. In that case, the Wolf School and Geralt owe me one.”

The looting went a bit differently than what Roy had in mind. Most sorcerers could save up a sizable amount of treasure after living for so long. Not to mention they could make alchemical stuff. They could enjoy a decadent life and afford their expensive experiment materials. Azar was still Vizima’s royal consultant. He should have made a ton of money over the years. He should have a stash of crowns somewhere. However, no matter how long Roy searched, all he could find was a bag of coins and sapphires that was worth less than two hundred crowns.

“Darn. I miscalculated. He must have tucked all his valuables away in his inventory. The knights have claimed his body now.”

Roy missed out on a fortune, so he decided to take everything in the laboratory, including the rhinoceros head and the weird organs in the bottles. He could recognize some of them, such as the pale widow’s organs and male endrega’s mutagens. They were rare sorcery materials. There was also an arachas mutagen. It was enough to make the list of requirements to level up Roy’s witcher rank.

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Aside from the decades of research data, Roy also found a hand-written leather notebook in a hidden compartment. It was written in the Elder Speech.

The creature that was sleeping on Roy’s shoulder gurgled and extended its finger to the book.

“You can read this, Gryphon?”

The creature poked its finger into its mouth.

“No. This is not food. Give me a minute. I’ll get you some dried fish once we’re done with this place. You’re a proud griffin. Just because you’ve transfigured doesn’t mean you can act like a common beast. You won’t just run around and mate with any dog if you turn into a canine, right?”

The witcher patted the creature’s head and flipped the book open. “Gwenalzurray… Alzur’s Thunder.” The first half of the book talked about the legendary spell that Azar used on Black Tern Island. It was written in the Elder Speech. The latter half talked about another equally powerful spell—Alzur’s Double Cross.

Roy did not know much about spells, but thanks to his proficiency in the Elder Speech, he got the gist of the content. Alzur’s Double Cross was a terrifyingly powerful summoning spell. Once cast, the user could summon a gigantic monster to do their bidding. This spell was created by the same sorcerer and one of the creators of witchers—Alzur.

There was a little history recorded after the spell’s introduction. ‘Alzur summoned a great centipede with this spell. The terrible beast brought half of Maribor to ruin in moments. Even now, ruins stand in that place to serve as a reminder of this past.’

The forbidden spells were powerful, but a part of the journal was missing, and fortunately so, or else Azar would have attacked them with more than just thunder and lightning. Roy tucked the spellbook away carefully, and after due consideration, he decided to share it with Kalkstein. That alchemist might be watching me right now, and I can’t guarantee I won’t work with him forever.

“I’m surprised you did not take the spellbook for yourself.” Kalkstein broke into a grin and pinched his nonexistent goatee. His hand froze in the air. “You have proven that my trust is not misplaced.” Kalkstein shook hands with the young witcher and stood up straighter. “I feel a lot better now. I shall teach you a few recipes. Three, to be exact. It’s a reward for your honesty.”

That was unexpected, but a welcome surprise regardless. Roy requested, “Alchemist, can I have a copy of the data?”

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“Witchers can’t cast spells. Why are you interested in the research data? I need your reason. Putting the regular data aside, this spellbook alone spells disaster if it falls into the wrong hands.” Kalkstein was serious for once.

“Don’t worry. I’m giving it to a friend of mine. She’s a sorceress.” The witcher grew tender for a moment. Roy wanted to put his faith in his friend again. “She’s a part of the brotherhood. She won’t abuse the spells.”

Kalkstein stared at Roy for a moment, and he handed the copy to the witcher. After that, he went to his own laboratory to teach the witcher how to make some new potions step by step. Kalkstein’s laboratory was brighter and a lot more spacious compared to Azar’s, though he also had more bizarre items hanging around. There were a lot of dried herbs and powdered sulfite and sulfur lying around. It was the basic stuff all alchemists must have.

Gryphon was still in vodyanoy form, and the creature was feasting on the fish laid out on the table. A black cat was accompanying it. The cat’s name was Sandru, and it was Kalkstein’s pet. Cats could sense magical energy acutely and would approach sorcerers, who were walking beacons of that energy. A lot of sorcerers would take a cat in as their pet.

“Witcher, we’re friends now, so I’m going to call you Roy, and you’re going to call me Kalk.”

“Okay.” Roy slid the leather gloves over his hands and glanced over at where the cat was. Sandru was holding its head up high like a king. Sandru’s whiskers shivered as it held its paw down on Gryphon’s head. Gryphon, however, ignored the cat. It concentrated on the fish before it.

“So you’ve mastered five recipes: marigold potion, paralyzing poison, Swallow, Petri’s Philter, and Thunderbolt. You’ve got the basics down, but I need to see how you truly fare. Pick one recipe you’ve mastered and make it using the ingredients and tools here.” The alchemist put on a stern look. He seemed more like a teacher now.

“Right now?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

Roy picked the most common potion—marigold potion. It could stop bleeding and prevent infection of wounds. He had been spending a lot of time training his battle skills and senses. Potionmaking had been taking a backseat lately. However, the moment he held the ingredients and tools, he started remembering all the steps of making the potion. It was like his mind was playing it in slow motion, showing him how to make it frame by frame.

“One part marigold and one part nettle. Grind them into a fine powder. Add a quarter part of distilled water into the mixture, then pour one ounce of nettle and two ounces of marigold. Stir them together. Heat it up for five minutes until its color changes to… And then keep doing this until the rancid smell disappears.” The witcher’s fingers moved deftly but firmly. He pounded the ingredients and controlled the heat perfectly, as if he had practiced this countless times. Every movement had been ingrained in his soul and instinct.

That was another effect of the character sheet. Once he mastered a skill, it would never regress no matter how much time had passed. Two hours later, the witcher handed the test tube that was filled two-thirds of the way to the alchemist. He was already sweating. Kalkstein uncorked the test tube and took a whiff of the content. “Its smell, color, and amount far exceeds a regular potion. I’d say this is a quality product.” He praised, “Roy, you have talent in alchemy. Now, all you need is experience.”

The witcher’s precision, efficiency, and sleek moves left a deep impression on him.

“Letho taught me well.”

“I would have taken you in as a disciple if you came to me a few years ago. Before you became a witcher.” Kalkstein shook his head. “But it’s too late for that now. I’m going to spend two to three days teaching you one recipe. We’ll start with the meditation potion.” Kalkstein explained, “It’s something that’s between a potion and decoction. It increases meditation’s efficiency by about twenty percent. Works for witchers and sorcerers alike.”

The cat’s meows interrupted the conversation, and the two of them looked at the creatures. Sandru was lying on all fours on the table, while Gryphon was lying on the cat’s nose, holding its whiskers. It was staring at the cat, not moving a muscle at all.

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The little creature gurgled, while the cat meowed. It was as if they were communicating in a way nobody could understand.

“Sandru noticed the vodyanoy’s magical energy. It’s trying to get close to the little one. Ignore them. Let’s get back to our class.”

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