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65.43% Blackheart (GoT, Witcher, DC) / Chapter 53: Chapter 1

Chapter 53: Chapter 1

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***

Damian Blackheart.

It's been a whole ten years since I got here. But in those ten years, I have accomplished something in terms of knowledge and progression of my powers and skills.

It should be recalled that I have lived eighty-five years in George R.R. Martin's world, and I have had time to do a lot of things, and the first life should not be forgotten. I have plenty of knowledge, skills and abilities. But the time to instil all this into the body and to re-develop methods for it is not much time for ten years of life.

To begin with, for the time spent in my past life, I was considered and I think I was, invincible and the best fighter in the world, and with any weapon, I was a master in all kinds of cold weapons, and then when I "invented" gunpowder, and the first shooter in the Empire. I also studied martial arts. I paid special attention to the masters of the I-Tii Empire, Asshai and Sotoriosa, though there were many other masters and schools that I learnt, but these I particularly liked for their variety and effectiveness.

These I began to train in my new body in secret from my mother.

In addition, thanks to my mother's extensive library, my persistence, our travels, and the means she had at her disposal, I had no trouble perusing all the literature, both scientific and magical, as well as simply artistic. The latter category helps sometimes more than the first two. My second rebirth is an example of that, and not the only one.

When I was John's Hand, I spent a year in Staromest, spending hours in the Maester's Tower, poring over folios, manuscripts, and books. Which led to rumours that I wanted to become a Maester. But what I was really interested in was useful information that might come in handy in the future. I knew that I would be reborn, but I didn't know in which world. Here the Lion of Night was silent as a fish, not as a representative of the cat family.

And I'm glad that the knowledge gained will be useful in this world, which is very similar in style and spirit to Martin's Westeros. But here everything is more honed to the history of Poland rather than England, but that's okay.

I ended up standing out a lot amongst my peers. And my mother was worried about it. She's a woman who wants family happiness with her beloved only son, who she has a thing for. Although many sorceresses have an obsession with motherhood, but it's different for each of them. But that's for another time.

Except that I was taught magic by my mother Yennifer. Her friends Tissaya de Vrieux, Marguerite Lo-Antil, and Keira Metz often visited us. The three of them were often at our house, and we had been to theirs a couple of times. They didn't teach me much, but they gave me useful advice and admired my persistence.

They recommended that my mother send me to study at Ban Ard in Caedwen. They even threw me a curveball, saying to me, "Damian is incredibly smart and clever. Even at such a young age, his knowledge and thirst for new things surpasses ours in some areas. So we think it would be a crime to bury such talent in the ground, he needs training at the academy."

My mother was surprised at this flattering assessment, a little relieved even, she did consider sending me there, but then she kicked up a fuss and said that I should not be trained by mediocrities and she would train me herself and if anything, she would find good teachers.

After that, my expectations of studying at the famous boys' academy were not fulfilled, even though I didn't set out to get there in the first place.

- Damian! - Kirk called out to me, displeased with many things as usual. - Why are you sad again?

I turned around and saw something that looked like a bad impersonation of Jaime Lannister in face, but not in physical features, if you were to look at the show.

The kid was two years older than me and a head and a half taller. Though I was still a little taller than my peers, my nose hunched, my face elongated, my chin sharp, my lips too thin and ugly pale pink, but otherwise my eyes, my hair, and even my skin colour, not to mention my features, were similar to Jaime's.

- Yes, Kirk? - I smiled slightly at him.

- I hope you haven't changed your mind about sword practice with me.

- No. But later. - I'm so sick of him. - Her friends are coming to see me, or rather my mother, and I, as the only man, will be "courting" them.

- Simply put, you'll be used as a doll to hug and squeeze and say what a good boy Mrs Jennyfair has raised, ha-ha-ha.

He reminds me a bit of Varick. Just as ironic in places, but overall a fun guy. Only this one is younger and not the son of a peasant, but a retired sergeant in Aedirn's army, now a merchant. His father, by the way, teaches us a bit of swordsmanship. Although I know how to hold a sword properly, but so that my mother would not ask too many questions, I decided to go to him a little for this purpose. But I barely got that right. She doesn't like that kind of fun and thinks it's useful to know how to swordplay, but I'm still a mage.

And yes, Kirk is the only one of the Wengerberg children I'm friends with. He dreams of becoming a knight and becoming famous on the battlefields, though his father has painted in colours all the details of real wars and battles, but it hasn't dulled his fervour.

- You're right, but do you agree, seeing such ladies as these, even you don't mind these "veal tendernesses"? - I grinned.

- Pfft. When you're free, I'll be home. Come on over.

Just a child, does not know how to translate everything into a joke, but okay, with me will learn.

Three old girlfriends and even the wizard Istredd (he delivered the baby), who was having an affair with my mother. He was really a nice guy, but after I was born, most of my mother's attention went to me.

He came to Wengerberg from time to time, but most of the time I saw him when I was travelling with my mother.

It would be nice to have a friendly relationship with him. He treats me well, but it's more because I grew up in front of him and the son of his beloved, so he's always nice to me and gives me gifts, even realised that I like cold weapons, and every time I meet him he gives me a dagger or a sword.

But I need his respect as a man to man, and this can only be earned by something. So I have to figure out exactly how to get close to him.

Our house was quite beautiful, a stone house of white granite in two floors, with a small garden, which was looked after by the old man Demius, and his wife Magda. They were his mother's servants, who had lived here for some thirty years after leaving Tsidaris. In a way they treated me like a grandson. They had no children themselves. Both of their older sons had died in a pirate raid on their village, one daughter had married and gone off to Nilfgaard with her husband, and the second youngest had died of a fever when she was a child, when her mother was somewhere else and couldn't help her servants.

I was gently hugged from behind.

- My sweet Damian. - Margaret sang in my ear.

- Hello, Mistress Marguerite.

- Hm. So quiet and calm, and anyone else would have considered it an honour to be hugged by me long ago. You don't appreciate what's handed to you on a platter.

She stepped around me and stood in front of me with her arms at her sides.

- I'm sorry if I'm missing something, but you're not on a platter. If you were on a saucer, that would be different. And the question of honour is a strange one. You were stripped of it when you were fifteen. You told me so yourself more than once when you were, to put it mildly, wasted up the arse.

- You little rascal! - and grabbed me by the ear and pulled me up, looking with her slightly indignant eyes at me. But there was no anger. - How dare you speak to me like that?!

- I apologise, I realise I behaved unworthily. After all, you are a wise maiden who is trying to teach me, an unwise child, the subtleties of entering society and communicating with the fair sex, but I by virtue of my unreasonableness ...

Rita smiled and let me go.

Of course, I will leave out the fact that she is old and old, that she likes to grumble and teach everyone. After all, my mum wouldn't be able to save me after that.

I praised her for a minute, and eventually she put her arm around me and told me that she and I were going to my mother's house together.

Mum was in the company of Keira Metz and Tissaya de Vries. Tissaya, it seems to me, hasn't even changed much in the way she dresses. Of course, she doesn't go for the old stuff, but I seem to realise more every time I see her that she likes monotony.

Keira was a rather short, skinny girl of about twenty or twenty-five years old, though as far as I knew she was in her twenties when I was born, with long straight straw-coloured hair. She had a high forehead and a tiny birthmark above her left breast that she didn't want to remove, maybe it meant something to her. The sorceress always wears a medallion around her neck in the shape of an Ankh cross studded with zircons. Most often I see her in a transparent airy dress, which rather provocatively emphasises her beautiful body and hides almost nothing intimate.

Though it happens sometimes, as right now, for example, Keira is wearing a dark blue sleeveless shirt with a deep to obscene neckline, a brown top skirt, and around her waist she has a red "belt" and some ropes tied around her waist. She doesn't like to wear shoes, but here at her mother's house she is forced to be in them. Of the jewellery she was wearing only her few bracelets, and her neck and cleavage are adorned with strings of beads and the same Ankh cross still on.

- Hello, Mistress Keira and Mistress Tissaya.

- Damian, boy, you've grown up in the six months I haven't seen you. - And she patted me on the head.

- I wish you had grown up, Mistress Keira. - I smiled at her.

- Prankster. Don't think I could be so easily hurt by your words.

- I know, Mistress, because you are irresistible and beautiful, no matter how tall you are.

- Well done, you're a quick learner. - said Marguerite and sat down next to his mother. - You have a good son, Jenny. Five more years, and girls will not be able to keep away from him, and if you tweak his manners and make him more brutal, I will not refuse him a kiss. - and winked at me.

- Stop seducing my son. - Mum snorted. - You'd better tell me why you're here so early, I was only expecting you in the evening.

- There were things we cancelled specifically to meet an old friend.

- Damian. - Tyssaya smiled softly at me, handing me a weighty book. - Here, take it, I found this collection of Goetia especially for you, I know how much you love books and learning.

- Go to your room, sweetie. - Mum added. - I'll tell Magda to bring you your favourite cakes.

- Of course, Mummy. - I smiled and rushed to my room.

- He's so cute..." Marguerite said when I was almost out of sight.

I wouldn't say I liked studying very much. It was a necessity, a useful necessity, to become stronger.

Magic wasn't much of a study in the past worlds; all I knew about it was the stories of my relatives, Jaehaerys, and my personal observations of the treatises of the scholars and mages of Essos.

And there's a lot of room to explore. For example, as it is now I can study a virtually local variation of demonology, though that's not exactly what I mean by demonology.

Magic is a pretty specific thing here.

The local magicians use energy for spells, which is traditionally divided into four elements: fire, air, water and earth.

But there are a lot of nuances.

The first and most important is that spellcasters do not always interact with the elements themselves, they draw strength from them, their energy, then transform it and pour it into spells. Borrowing energy is a very subtle process.

Directly passing it through your body can be very dangerous, as it can cause an uncontrolled release of energy, the most harmless spell turning into a destructive and crippling, or even killing the wizard that made a mistake.

Therefore, many spellcasters absorb energy into themselves, only then transferring it to the spell. Naturally, therefore, a talented spellcaster is always concentrated, having this amount of energy in himself, which can be instantly realised into a defensive spell. Most spellcasters store up this charge before attacking, curing, or any other spell, and use the extra time to do so. This can be fatal in certain situations. However, many effective but crude spells can be cast in a fraction of a second. They may lack finesse, but they can save lives, such as defending against a flying arrow or throwing an enemy back with a kinetic wave.

The spells themselves vary in level of difficulty and, of course, in their intended purpose. Wizards can literally do anything with magic, but complex spells require special skill.

Medical spells can restore lost limbs, organs, but this requires years and constant magical influence. Mages can create living beings, but not the fact that intelligent, homunculi certainly can not have a place in this world.

And creating life through magic is the highest level of wizarding skill.

Illusion, on the other hand, is the most simple yet effective skill. With the help of illusions, both visual and emotional, wizards are able to create projections of really existing objects, as well as to enchant people, bewitching or vice versa, instil hatred in them.

Warlocks can also turn some things into other things, including both animals and people. That is, the classic fairy tale transformation of a man into a frog and then casting a spell to make him human again may well take place, I remember an example from canon of Philippa turning into an owl.

The spells themselves are a mixture of gesture and speech components. It is not uncommon for many spellcasters to take years to learn the correct gestures and proper pronunciation of words. And it happens the other way round, if a wizard or wizardess is very talented or persistent like me, they get it all faster. And I have good teachers. But even I should be careful, because the slightest mistake in pronunciation or finger position can lead to disastrous consequences.

As for the four elements, they are very different in their use.

Each spellcaster can draw energy from any element if they wish, but everyone finds it easier to work with a particular element rather than all of them at once.

The most malleable and popular in the work is of course water, probably, it is the most "quiet" in any universe. However, when using water magic can be a problem, because not everywhere you can find water veins. For example, in the desert or in a very dry area is difficult to find this energy vein, not to mention the real one.

Earth is also popular - it is always there, it is always easy to feel it, but it is characterised by some inertness, slowness, so it is more difficult to pull energy from it than from mobile and plastic water.

The most difficult element is probably Air. It is very light and this energy literally slips away, to master it fully capable of only the truly strongest magicians.

And the last element is Fire. It is very easy to master it, moreover, it provides its own forces, ready to give all its frenzy, all its "fuse". But at the same time it is the most dangerous, in some cases even almost forbidden element. Because it burns a person morally, deprives him of all relatively positive feelings, leaving only the thirst for power and the desire to bring chaos. Only the most skilful mages can use fire magic for their spells.

All of this makes the magical craft extremely dangerous, but also privileged. Warlocks are the elite, and they themselves consider themselves just that. This isn't Westeros, where magic is considered almost fiction and baubles. Here it's a real power that makes its wielder capable of many things. And they don't occupy the places of counsellors and closest people around the monarchs for nothing. They have a lot of power in their hands. But they are not very loyal to their monarchs, at least most of them. This is not Nilfgard with his laws that set the position for mages as civil servants.

Also among the skills of spellcasters are mentioned similar in appearance, but having a different nature and mechanics:

- Polymorphism - actually transforming into various lower-order living beings while retaining their mind and their will.

- Goetia - which isn't exactly necromancy and isn't exactly accepted as magic in the local area, yet it is used nonetheless.

- Oneiromancy.

The latter art of mages reminds me a lot of wargs from the last world, but in local cases here mages have learnt to induce dreams themselves, to travel between lands and different times, to make predictions and see the truth. The processes are similar, though slightly different. I wasn't a warg, though. But an old friend of mine was, and willingly shared his dreams with me.

As my mother had told me recently, "Magic is the key that unlocks locked doors. Doors behind which lurk nightmare, danger and unimaginable horror, hostile, destructive forces, forces of pure Evil that are able to destroy the whole world, not just the one who opens the doors!"

And my mum gave me this key, you could say, passed it on to me by inheritance. I've already learnt quite a few good quite simple and common spells: Fireball, Lightning, Telekinesis, Magic Barrier, Levitation, Flight, Light, Illusion and Telepathy. There are a lot of spells, especially in "elemental magic", but I haven't managed to master them all in such a short time. But the results are already impressive to the wizards, who are now discussing something with my mother downstairs, sipping wine.

I studied the book and almost fell asleep. All these mythical creatures of the demonic plane were already familiar to me. Although the book is ancient, but here I found only one kind of demons that I have not found in other books. Although the book itself is very valuable and ancient, it didn't give me much at the moment.

However, I keep coming back to the idea of taming the "genie" that made Jennyfair and Geralt meet in canon. If I'm not mistaken, Buttercup hasn't graduated from the University of Oxenfurt yet, or is just finishing it. And they weren't supposed to meet Geralt yet. And then there's fishing by the lake and finding a bottle of gin. And only then will Geralt meet his mum.

I don't intend to give Geralt his mum, he only managed to make her fall in love with him thanks to the gin and no more. It's a surrogate that will only make her more miserable. It would be easier to give her to Eastred than to a witch who's only good for reflexes and dabbling in danger. Oh, no, I'm not gonna let that happen.

So it looks like I'll have to make a wish to the genie and try to capture this genius of the elements to get my perks and avoid unnecessary problems with the witch doctor.

The deed is dangerous, it excites my brain and only whets my appetite.

At about three in the morning, I left my room and went to the kitchen. I knew Magda always left a small untouched supply of goodies of all sorts for me and apple juice for Mum. She loves it. Although I prefer orange juice or even lemon juice. After all, I got pretty drunk on apple juice in my first life, both home-made and store-bought. Once in a while this apple hell was diluted with birch juice or tomato juice at any entertaining events and drinking parties.

To my surprise there were no biscuits, pies or even store bought roosters at the market this morning. I even know it was all eaten by one white-haired sweet tooth, Keira.

- They're no good! - I grimaced.

- Mistress Metz couldn't resist the sweets again, could she? - I heard Magda's voice.

- Yes, Magda. There's no one else. Where have they all gone?

- I think they got dressed and teleported somewhere. I don't know why and I don't know where exactly either. - she smiled tiredly.

- Why aren't you asleep? It's late, I understand you've been bored by the three witches' enquiries.

- No, my boy. I'm not tired. Besides, sometimes some old men don't sleep much at night.

I know what you mean, Magda. I was an old man myself. But I aged so quickly because of the effects of the health-destroying battles, injuries and the magic of the Others that touched me during our clashes. I would have lived longer otherwise.

- Go to sleep, Damian. - Magda patted my cheek. - I assure you, when you wake up, you'll have your favourite sweets.

She's kind. I haven't met many people who are genuinely kind to me that don't have ulterior motives. It's unusual and even alarming all the time. It's my nature that I can't take "good intentions" lightly. I've been through some pretty rough lives. I'm not complaining, though. I live my life so that I won't be ashamed to remember it later, and it was fun.....

At that moment, as I was about to go upstairs, my intuition sounded an alarm.

My hearing picked up the kicked in doors in the hallway, and at the same moment a portal appeared from the wall, through which five no doubt mages emerged. Two were dark-haired men in their thirties, wearing simple plain clothes and carrying staffs. The rest were young-looking sorceresses, and they looked like they could be in VIA Gry: a redhead, a dark one, and a white one.

Magda and I were affected by sleep magic, but if Magda collapsed almost immediately, I managed to dispel it, but still fell down next to her, pretending to be asleep.

- Where is the sorceress? - One of the mages asked. - She's definitely not in the house?

- Yes." said one of the sorceresses after a few seconds. - 'Really, neither are the others. We need to look for what we need.

- What about the servants?

- Do we need them? Let them sleep. No need for unnecessary sacrifice.

That's good.

It's also good that only eight people entered the house, not two dozen as I thought at first. Probably just ordinary guys, not mages.

Three of them left with the four guys on the first floor, two went into the living room. And two stayed with the other two mages. Well, mages, judging by the voices.

- Do you think we can do this quickly? - one asked the other, stuffing her mouth with something.

- All we need is Jennyfair's office. Danes knows what to look for and where to find it. We're only here to back him up if those old women show up early.

- Should we kill these two? - said one of the men who wasn't far away.

- Why do you want to go to all this trouble? They haven't even seen you, and we're under an illusion.

- Pathetic? - He had a nasty voice, though. Even nastier than Dog's.

- You want it? Well, then kill me, don't you dare fuck with my brains! - snapped at the sorceress and walked on. - Where are the knives?

The big guy was coming towards me, pulling his sword out of its sheath, and the lady came to the cabinet where Magda's husband always kept his knives sharpened.

Telekinesis and several knives flew into the sorceress' face.

- Aah! - I don't think he killed her yet. Adding another one in her direction, she fell. And then, the next in the count, flew not at the other magess, but at the bulky guy who was hovering over me and his partner.

Two more dead.

At the same time I put up a barrier, which she had already reacted to, sending a fireball that shattered against her shield.

- You little bastard!

- Board! - I prodded her, looking at her really unrepresentable form, which is odd considering she's a warlock.

- You're gonna die!

Fireball, Lightning, Telekinesis with throwing all sorts of utensils and stabbing and cutting objects, even with the bodies of her companions and companion metal, only on the fast fifth round was I able to break through her barrier and hit her first with lightning and then with a cleaver of one of the thugs.

At that moment, two mages showed up from the teleport, the last sorceress and the wizard, who immediately attacked me.

I threw the bodies of their friends at them and they crashed against the wall.

But I had to quickly dodge the attacks of two other mages who easily broke my shield. I could hear the rest of the "regular" performers running down the stairs.

And the onslaught of mages was increasing. I was frankly weak against two of them at once. If it had been one at a time, yes. I would have withstood and won. But I have no experience in such fights. And I'm too small in body and strength to face two mages at once.

All the fighters jumped out, and I threw them at the mages, who with their strong shields effectively killed them, either burning them or turning their organs and bones into crumbs. They were distracted by the bodies of their accomplices, and I managed to get to the table, despite the pain in my body, the fatigue, and the blood coming out of my ears and nose. I threw the table at them with all my might, blocking the view of me and Magda, I sent the sharpest thing I could, and grabbed Magda and tried to open a portal to Eastredd.

I'm not very good at creating stable portals, but there was no other way out, we had to leave. Otherwise we're dead. Too bad I can't save the old man. But I hope he'll only be stunned.

It would seem I was able to create a stable portal, but I underestimated the reaction time of the mages.

We were hit back with daggers. I felt the cold steel pierce my legs, side, and even my arm hitting my back.

The portal shatters and I hear the mocking voice of a mage I don't know:

- And because of him, so much fuss? And so many casualties at the hands of a boy!

I turned my head in his direction and saw the missing mage with some rag I had seen in my mum's office. Standing next to him was another mage, scarred and glaring angrily at me. His mate was nailed to the wall by part of the desk and the sword that supported it. And next to me lay Magda with her skull cracked open, her brain leaking out of the cavity and turning into a far unappetising grey mush mixed with blood.

- He must be killed! - shouted the second mage to the first. Maybe it's that Danes.

- I have a better idea. - He smirked and a ball of flame lit up in his hand.


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