“Am I boring you, Iola?

“I need this. I really do need it.

“Where was I? My first noble deed. You see, they’d told me again and again in Kaer Morhen not to get involved in such incidents, not to play at being knight errant or uphold the law. Not to show off, but to work for money. And I joined this fight like an idiot, not fifty miles from the mountains. And do you know why? I wanted the girl, sobbing with gratitude, to kiss her savior on the hands, and her father to thank me on his knees. In reality her father fled with his attackers, and the girl, drenched in the bald man’s blood, threw up, became hysterical and fainted in fear when I approached her. Since then, I’ve only very rarely interfered in such matters.

“I did my job. I quickly learned how. I’d ride up to village enclosures or town pickets and wait. If they spat, cursed and threw stones, I rode away. If someone came out to give me a commission, I’d carry it out.

“I visited towns and fortresses. I looked for proclamations nailed to posts at the crossroads. I looked for the words ‘Witcher urgently needed.’ And then there’d be a sacred site, a dungeon, necropolis or ruins, forest ravine or grotto hidden in the mountains, full of bones and stinking carcasses. Some creature which lived to kill, out of hunger, for pleasure, or invoked by some sick will. A manticore, wyvern, fogler, aeschna, ilyocoris, chimera, leshy, vampire, ghoul, graveir, werewolf, giant scorpion, striga, black annis, kikimora, vypper… so many I’ve killed. There’d be a dance in the dark and a slash of the sword, and fear and distaste in the eyes of my employer afterward.

“Mistakes? Of course I’ve made them. But I keep to my principles. No, not the code. Although I have at times hidden behind a code. People like that. Those who follow a code are often respected and held in high esteem. But no one’s ever compiled a witcher’s code. I invented mine. Just like that. And keep to it. Always—

“Not always.

“There have been situations where it seemed there wasn’t any room for doubt. When I should say to myself, ‘What do I care? It’s nothing to do with me. I’m a witcher.’ When I should listen to the voice of reason. To listen to my instinct, even if it’s fear, if not to what my experience dictates.

“I should have listened to the voice of reason that time…

“I didn’t.

“I thought I was choosing the lesser evil. I chose the lesser evil. Lesser evil! I’m Geralt! Witcher… I’m the Butcher of Blaviken—

“Don’t touch me! It might… You might see… and I don’t want you to. I don’t want to know. I know my fate whirls about me like water in a weir. It’s hard on my heels, following my tracks, but I never look back.

“A loop? Yes, that’s what Nenneke sensed. What tempted me, I wonder, in Cintra? How could I have taken such a risk so foolishly—?