This is a non-commercial fanfic based on the universes of The Witcher and Disco Elysium. All rights to the original works, characters, names, and elements of their respective worlds belong to their respective copyright holders. The author of this fanfic does not claim ownership of any of them. Age rating: rated R (18+). The text contains profanity, alcohol, fictional drugs, violence, and other themes intended for an adult audience.
“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”
— Oscar Wilde, “Lady Windermere’s Fan”
NARRATOR – You shake Vernon’s hand and wish him good night. He heads quickly up the stairs; a few moments later, the sound of a door slamming shut comes from above.
UMBRA [Medium: Success] – An uneasy feeling creeps over you. The unwavering presence of the Blue Stripes commander had been reassuring. While he was nearby, the world seemed a little easier to understand, and what was happening at least partly explainable. Now you are completely alone — for the first time since waking up in that wrecked room. Since returning to this world.
FORTITUDE [Easy: Success] – Keep yourself together.
NARRATOR – Trying to distract yourself from your uneasy thoughts, you let your gaze wander around the common room. The tavern patrons argue, eat, laugh, and clink mugs; someone at the counter is demanding more wine, while someone else is already nodding off over a half-finished bowl of stew. No one pays any attention to the lone witcher. Jaskier is nowhere to be seen either.
DIALECTIC [Medium: Success] – Perhaps he really did manage to charm one of the local beauties, securing both pleasant company and a bed for the night in the process. In that respect, the bard is a far better adapted creature than a witcher without a single coin to his name.
NARRATOR – Suddenly, you catch the eye of a middle-aged gentleman dressed in a strange, long-skirted robe. He sits modestly in a corner, sipping wine and watching you with undisguised curiosity — like an entomologist who has discovered a particularly interesting beetle trapped in amber.
ARTISTRY [Medium: Success] – The stranger looks rather like a learned ape.
NARRATOR – The man gives you a friendly wave, clearly inviting you to join him.
DIALECTIC – As for whether anyone in this city is actually glad to see you… I think we’ve found one. At the very least, he doesn’t look like he’s about to accuse you of something, insult you, or expose you as a fraud.
CODEX [Impossible: Failure] – Who is he? Do you know him?.. Why are you incapable of recognizing anyone?
NARRATOR – You sit down opposite the friendly gentleman. Up close, he looks even stranger: dry, parchment-like skin, a narrow face, a thin nose, pronounced brow ridges, dark bulging eyes, and a goatee that trembles as though conducting scientific research independently of its owner. The stranger gives you a satisfied nod and introduces himself in a nasal but lively voice.
KALKSTEIN – Good evening, pan witcher! A pleasure to meet you. Adalbert Kalkstein, at your service. Scholar, alchemist, and amateur astronomer, presently renting a laboratory here in Vizima. I also deal in various potions, salves, and even cosmetics — the sort of things respectable people denounce as charlatanry while secretly buying them with admirable regularity.
NARRATOR – Judging by appearances, he has already emptied several glasses of wine and has reached that pleasant state of loving the entire world — especially the part of it willing to sit still and listen. Just to be safe, you decide to introduce yourself using a shortened version of your assumed name, suspecting that your companion wouldn’t remember the full one anyway. And if he did, he would inevitably mangle it.
ARTISTRY [Easy: Success] – A wise decision. The longer an invented name becomes, the greater the chance that one day it will start living a life of its own.
YOU – Andrzej de Beaupré. A witcher, as you were kind enough to notice. Forgive me — have we met before?
NARRATOR – The alchemist shakes his goatee and waves both hands energetically.
KALKSTEIN – No, no, pan Beaupré, I rather doubt it. I simply noticed the medallion and the yellow eyes, and became extraordinarily interested in you from a scientific point of view…
NARRATOR – He hastily adds:
KALKSTEIN – Please, don’t think I meant any offense! I merely hoped to ask you a few questions, if you’ll permit me. To learn something, so to speak, about your life as a witcher.
NARRATOR – Kalkstein closes his eyes dreamily.
KALKSTEIN – Though I confess, I would take even greater pleasure in examining your internal… organization… Ahem. Yes. Once again, I beg your pardon.
NARRATOR – He awkwardly rises halfway from his seat and, swaying slightly, calls toward the kitchen.
KALKSTEIN – Innkeeper! Another plate of meat and cabbage, some cheese, bread, and a bottle of wine for my friend!
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – FINALLY, KUMPEL!!! This man is a fucking legend! Exactly who we’ve been looking for all day. Time to GET THIS PARTY STARTED!
RESOLVE [Challenging: Failure] – No…
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – YES!!! Don’t listen to that bore! He’d ask for water at his own funeral.
KALKSTEIN – The meal is on me, of course, pan Beaupré.
NARRATOR – Your new acquaintance smiles and settles back into his seat. In a way, he has just bought himself a pleasant evening, a willing conversation partner, and perhaps material for a future anatomical paper.
KALKSTEIN – I happened to overhear your conversation about your financial difficulties… Don’t worry, such misfortunes can befall anyone. I suppose you don’t have any contracts at the moment?
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Success] – Wait. He’s a scholar. This is exactly the sort of person you should ask about your mysterious condition. Perhaps Kalkstein can shed some light on it. Worst case, he understands nothing — or gets it completely wrong and then writes a detailed paper about it.
SENSIBILITY [Easy: Success] – Go on, don’t be shy. This alchemist is perfectly harmless. More than that, the subject might genuinely interest him.
UMBRA [Medium: Success] – “Interest” is a dangerous word. Especially when applied to a man who, a minute ago, was fantasizing about examining your internal organization.
YOU – Yeah, contracts are pretty scarce at the moment… You know, Adalbert, the thing is, for some reason I… don’t remember anything about my past life. Since this morning I’ve been having trouble with even the most basic concepts. I know that I’m a witcher and that apparently I’m supposed to be conducting an investigation, but… why am I doing any of this in the first place? And where is my home? I must have been somewhere before I came here, right?
UMBRA [Challenging: Failure] – Home. A good word. A warm one. So why does it feel empty inside? Dead cold.
NARRATOR – Kalkstein listens with great attention, thoughtfully turning the wineglass in his hands, a little wine still left at the bottom. He even seems to sober up slightly.
SENSIBILITY – He believes you. He doesn’t think you’re just messing around.
KALKSTEIN – In other words, you’ve lost your memory? Amnesia is rather unusual, though I have read about cases of this kind. Curious that some memories have remained intact. As you can imagine, my own field lies elsewhere, but… Well, allow me to ask you a few questions commonly used in situations like this.
CODEX [Trivial: Success] – Oh, this is my department! Pan Archiwariusz Pedantski enters the fray — scourge of dusty folios and forgotten facts.
KALKSTEIN – Do you understand where you are at the moment?
CODEX – That question is so simple it almost feels insulting.
YOU – Yes. We’re in Temeria. As it was explained to me, this is the Shaggy Bear Inn in Vizima.
KALKSTEIN – Excellent. Do you know what form of government we live under? What sort of state this is?
CODEX – If the country has a king, the answer should be obvious.
YOU – Some kind of monarchy?
KALKSTEIN – Excellent, pan Beaupré! Very good indeed. And who, in your understanding, currently rules Temeria?
CODEX – Foltest. You’ve heard that name several times already. He also has a daughter whom you saved many years ago.
YOU – Foltest?
KALKSTEIN – You see? It’s not quite as bad as all that. And one last question: what year is it?
CODEX [Impossible: Failure] – Six hundred and thirty-nine. I’m absolutely certain. No need to think about it.
YOU – Six hundred and thirty-nine.
NARRATOR – The scholar shakes his head in disappointment, like a doctor reluctant to alarm his patient right from the start.
KALKSTEIN – I’m afraid not, pan witcher… The correct answer is almost twice that. Still, I should point out that you do know some things, which means the situation is far from hopeless. What do you think might have caused an episode like this? Could your mind perhaps be trying to protect itself from some traumatic memories?
YOU – I don’t know… Apparently, I’ve been drinking a lot these past few days.
ELOQUENCE [Medium: Failure] – You have no idea how to explain any of this. Your thoughts tangle together like long, limp strands of dough, twisting into a nasty, cold knot.
YOU – Although later I found a letter from some woman, started reading it, and passed out… And then a bard who knows me said I’d broken his lute for some reason… So, generally speaking, I have very little idea what’s going on.
KALKSTEIN – I see, I see. I suspect all of this is connected: the memory loss, your drinking, that unknown pani… My guess is you didn’t start drinking for no reason.
NARRATOR – The scholar spreads his hands and sighs.
KALKSTEIN – Unfortunately, orthodox science currently possesses no means of treating conditions of this kind. I’m sorry, but neither I nor other scholars are in a position to help you. You might consider consulting a sorcerer. Druids are also said to know how to heal wounds of the mind, though that may take years.
RESOLVE [Challenging: Failure] – Years?! That’s a nightmare… You’ve barely managed to survive one day.
KALKSTEIN – My advice is simple: learn as much about yourself as you can, and whatever you do, don’t lose hope. It’s entirely possible that your memory will gradually return. And if it doesn’t… well, then there will be nothing for it but to begin the difficult work of getting to know yourself all over again.
NARRATOR – He raises his glass solemnly.
KALKSTEIN – I sincerely hope you turn out to be a pleasant man.
UMBRA [Easy: Success] – Get to know yourself all over again? That almost sounds hopeful.
NARRATOR – For a while, silence settles over the table. Fortunately, Garte rescues you from any further reflection by bringing over a plate of hot food, a loaf of bread, some cheese, and an imposing bottle of red wine.
SENSIBILITY [Challenging: Success] – Garte is not at all pleased to see you getting your hands on alcohol again. But he doesn’t dare object to the man sitting opposite you, who is apparently a regular here. Unlike you, Kalkstein always pays his bills.
NARRATOR – The food smells surprisingly appetizing. It suddenly occurs to you that you don’t even know when you last ate anything.
VICE [Trivial: Success] – Now things are finally moving in the right direction! Identity is a vague and abstract construct. Wine and bread, on the other hand, are much more real.
NARRATOR – You tear hungrily into a piece of meat. Kalkstein, who had sobered up somewhat during the conversation about amnesia, gradually slips back into his former wine-warmed friendliness. His eyes begin to gleam again, his goatee comes back to life, and his voice takes on that peculiar creaking tone of a man about to deliver a lecture.
DIALECTIC [Easy: Success] – Since you have a genuine scholar and alchemist sitting right in front of you — not to mention a man paying for your dinner — now is the perfect time to choose a topic. Something simple enough to ask, but interesting enough to discuss.
VICE [Challenging: Failure] – For example, ask if he distills his own moonshine! And if he does, whether he holds public tastings for homeless witchers.
MASQUE [Impossible: Failure] – Maestro, ask whether he has ever performed a tragic role in an endlessly sorrowful play!
BRAWN [Challenging: Failure] – Better ask if he takes part in underground fistfights. Come to think of it, you ought to get back into shape and enter some kind of tournament yourself. One where the city’s finest fighters compete. You could CRUSH SKULLS and get paid BLOOD MONEY for it.
VICE [Easy: Success] – Exactly. And then all the local beauties will fall at your feet!
DEFTNESS [Easy: Success] – Underground fistfights? In your condition? You can barely hold a fork. And only because it isn’t fighting back.
SENSIBILITY [Medium: Success] – No. Forget the tournaments, the moonshine, and the plays. Just ask him about potions — about the alchemist’s trade in general. He’ll enjoy talking about it. And you might even learn something useful.
YOU – So you make potions, then? Is it… difficult? And is there much money in it?
WHISPER [Easy: Success] – Excellent question! Money is a powerful potion. It cures almost everything except stupidity, a rotten reputation, and death.
NARRATOR – The scholar’s expression warms, as though you’d just asked after the health of his wife or children. He tops up your wine and spreads his hands.
KALKSTEIN – I was about to say that witchers probably dabble in something similar from time to time, but then I remembered your… situation. Yes, among other things, I prepare various decoctions, ointments, tinctures, and other substances that ordinary people first denounce as vile concoctions and then proceed to buy from me on a regular basis. The process can be quite complicated, especially since some remedies require rare ingredients. Flower petals, for instance, which must be gathered by virgins under a full moon… Or something else along those lines.
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Success] – Flower petals, virgins, a full moon… The classic scientific method: the harder something is to verify, the more convincing it sounds.
MASQUE [Easy: Failure] – But it’s so romantic!
ARTISTRY [Medium: Success] – Young maidens in white dresses twirl among flowers reaching toward the pale face of the heavens… Soft silver light bathes them… Gods, what could possibly be more beautiful…
DIALECTIC – I think he’s just making it up.
YOU – Wait, why virgins specifically? Couldn’t some old crones just gather the flowers at noon?
NARRATOR – Your companion narrows his eyes slyly and gives you a mysterious smile, clearly preparing to ruin the beautiful legend with the dull prose of reality.
KALKSTEIN – Can’t fool you, pan Beaupré! And you’re quite right: in most cases it makes no difference whatsoever. We simply like to shroud the craft in a little mystery, so every village oaf doesn’t decide to take up alchemy.
DIALECTIC – Translation: alchemists jealously guard the secrets of their trade. They have no desire to share the techniques, the recipes, the market, or, consequently, the profits.
KALKSTEIN – Besides, it isn’t always that simple. Some plants really should be gathered at night or just before dawn — when the air is cool and damp, when the flower is open and its volatile essences have not yet dispersed.
NARRATOR – He takes a sip of wine and raises one finger instructively, as though lecturing at a university rather than sitting in a tavern over a plate of mutton.
KALKSTEIN – Some species keep the same hours as moths: by day they are almost silent, but toward nightfall they begin to give off their scent as though summoning every winged pest in the neighborhood to some secret gathering. In such plants, the concentration of oils, resins, and other useful substances may vary depending on when they are harvested.
CODEX [Challenging: Failure] – Um… That is probably true. At any rate, it sounds scholarly enough that interrupting him would be unwise.
ARTISTRY [Medium: Success] – You can vividly picture what he is describing: a silent, gloomy forest, wet grass — cold as a drowned man’s skin — and the sweetish scent of night-blooming flowers mingling with the stench of swamp rot.
KALKSTEIN – Not to mention that some species open only at night, and even then only for a short while. Though I rather doubt that has anything to do with the phases of the moon.
YOU – Then why does it have to be a full moon?
NARRATOR – The alchemist grins triumphantly.
KALKSTEIN – Better visibility, my friend. You witchers can see perfectly well in the dark, but ordinary people are not blessed with such a gift. Under a full moon, it’s easier to find the right plant, avoid breaking your neck in a ditch, and not accidentally gather a basketful of nettles instead of some rare alchemical ingredient.
YOU – All right, then what do virgins have to do with it?
VICE [Easy: Success] – Now that should have been your very first question!
KALKSTEIN – Heh-heh… Ahem. To tell the truth, I’m not entirely certain about the virginity of the local gatherers. Usually they’re simply young women. It’s a matter of good eyesight and agility, pan Beaupré. Some old crone wouldn’t see much even under a full moon, and might very well catch a chill crawling about in wet grass after dark, or twist an ankle. So the truth is rather more prosaic: young eyes, a strong back, and the desire to earn a few coins.
NARRATOR – You had expected something more. Your companion seems to notice.
KALKSTEIN – And that is precisely why magicians never reveal the secrets behind their tricks. The audience is disappointed once they learn how it all really works. So we herbalists need an aura of mystery as well… so the townsfolk will pay more!
NARRATOR – He laughs, pleased with himself, then takes a healthy swig of wine and spears a piece of meat with his fork.
DIALECTIC [Challenging: Success] – That sounds depressingly plausible. Scrape the silver dust off any mystery, and underneath you’ll usually find someone’s commercial interests.
NARRATOR – The next two hours dissolve into a warm, sweet haze of wine. First, you briefly explain the nature of your investigation, and your companion offers several useful pieces of advice from the field of criminology, which he too once read about somewhere. Then the conversation wanders from alchemy to witcher mutations, from moths to the nature of human greed, and somehow, eventually, to cheese. You are no longer quite sure who brought up cheese in the first place.
VICE [Easy: Success] – That second bottle of wine was absolutely necessary. The first merely broke the ice. The second will bring you closer. And the third will make you true friends.
NARRATOR – Kalkstein finally loses the last remnants of scientific coherence. His goatee has grown completely unruly, and his finger keeps shooting upward whenever an important clarification occurs to him, though the thought itself does not always make it to a logical conclusion.
KALKSTEIN – …and therefore, pan Beaupré, any sensible classification of cheeses must begin not with hardness, as certain ignoramuses suppose, but with smell and the number of holes!
NARRATOR – At some point, the two of you reach a silent but urgent agreement: you need to go outside. Get some fresh air. And, since truth demands precision, relieve yourselves.
DEFTNESS [Medium: Failure] – Getting to your feet proves much harder than expected. The floor is behaving in a distinctly insolent and not entirely friendly manner.
NARRATOR – Under Garte’s suspicious gaze, the two of you struggle out from behind the table and slowly make your way toward the door. Somewhere halfway there, Kalkstein grabs you by the shoulder. Not out of affection, but practical necessity. You return the favor. Thus, arm in arm and swaying ominously, the twin pillars of science and the witcher’s trade leave the tavern.
HORRIFIC MEDALLION – The ni-i-ight is still young, kumpel! I demand that the banquet continue!..
NARRATOR – The night air hits you in the face with cold, dampness, and freedom. You relieve yourselves in a dark alley with the solemn concentration drunken men somehow bring to the simplest bodily functions.
FORTITUDE [Trivial: Success] – Ahhh… Magnificent.
NARRATOR – Once you’re done, you somehow make it to the square and sit down on the edge of the fountain. The stone is pleasantly cold and slightly damp. Kalkstein is barely capable of coherent speech by now: he smiles into the darkness, blinks at long intervals, and, judging by appearances, is continuing the lecture somewhere inside his own head.
ARTISTRY [Medium: Success] – Vizima is much quieter at night… The dark water in the fountain is still and smooth as a mirror. Two figures are reflected in it: a witcher who has lost his past, and an alchemist who has lost count of his drinks. Excellent company for the rest of the evening.
ELOQUENCE [Trivial: Success] – “Smooth as a mirror”? Seriously? That metaphor is as worn out as a half-dead village nag used to haul water. Try again. Better yet, don’t.
KALKSTEIN – Tell me, pan B… Beaupré… do you know how far away the stars we’re looking at now actually are?
NARRATOR – With a trembling hand, he gestures across half the night sky. You belch questioningly and shrug. Somehow, it comes out almost philosophical.
CODEX [Impossible: Failure] – I imagine they’re not especially close.
KALKSTEIN – According to the latest astronomical research… very, very far away. So far that we cannot truly imagine it. You see, I also spend some of my spare time observing the heavenly bodies… And do you know what the most frightening part is?
NARRATOR – His voice grows quieter, and his speech almost stops slurring. To your own surprise, you find yourself listening closely.
KALKSTEIN – It is entirely possible, pan witcher, that those stars no longer exist.
NARRATOR – For no apparent reason, it feels as though a bucket of ice water has been thrown over you.
UMBRA [Medium: Failure] – What a strange feeling… How can that even be possible?
YOU – What do you mean, “they’re gone”?.. I can see them right now.
KEEN EYE [Medium: Failure] – You can. Though almost all of them seem to be strangely doubled, and some keep jumping back and forth. Suspicious behavior for celestial bodies.
KALKSTEIN – Quite true. I’m afraid science is not yet able to explain everything, but there is a hypothesis put forward by one young and very talented scholar… You see, stars, to put it simply, “shine.” And light does not reach us instantly. It has to cross enormous distances, and that may take years, centuries, perhaps far longer. At least, that is the theory.
NARRATOR – He looks sadly up at the sky. For a moment, Kalkstein seems strangely lost.
KALKSTEIN – And while that light is making its way to us… the star itself may already have gone out. Vanished. Crumbled away into the void. Yet we still look up and say, “There it is.” Though perhaps what we’re really seeing is only a delayed message from something that no longer exists. We are, quite literally, catching the light of dead stars.
FOREBODING [Medium: Success] – Suddenly, a terrible unease comes over you. So strong that you want to run back to your room, lock the door, and hide under the blankets until the sun rises and drives those tiny bright points from the sky. You are sitting here, on a dark and deserted street, in the company of a strange man, admiring the glow of stars that died long ago. Taking it in, absorbing it into yourself… Devouring it.
UMBRA [Impossible: Success] – Perhaps this is where the malice and hatred you spoke of with Vernon this afternoon truly begin. For every night, the light of dead stars pours down upon the people of Temeria. It gives no warmth and promises no salvation. It simply falls upon rooftops and cobblestones, upon faces, gallows, and gutters…
ARTISTRY [Challenging: Success] – And yet it is infinitely beautiful.
CODEX [Challenging: Failure] – They say some people stared at the moon and stars for so long that they lost their minds. Perhaps something similar happened to you?
UMBRA – No. At night, you usually keep your eyes on the ground, following the trail of yet another monster. Mud, blood, pawprints, claw marks. Witchers rarely look up at the sky.
NARRATOR – A slight jolt pulls you out of your thoughts. You flinch. But no — it’s only the alchemist, having rather clumsily rested a hand on your shoulder.
KALKSTEIN – Tell me, pan Beaupré, would you ever want to visit one of the stars? Just imagine: what if there are lands there too, and seas, cities, kings, witchers, alchemists… What if dreamers just like us live there, looking toward us at this very moment? Who knows — perhaps they are wondering what life is like for us here…
UMBRA [Easy: Success] – Yes. Yes, you would. You would like to run as far away from all of this as possible — even if it meant escaping up there, into the dark sky. Leave Vizima, the tavern, the debts, the letter, that unknown woman, and yourself behind forever. Explore unknown lands where no one knows your name. Not even you.
YOU – Honestly, that sounds tempting.
NARRATOR – Kalkstein positively beams. Still swaying, he declares in a firm and solemn voice:
KALKSTEIN – I knew at once that you were no ordinary brute who understands nothing beyond raw force. There is something in you… Something suited to a great undertaking! And if one day…
NARRATOR – Your companion’s breath suddenly catches.
SENSIBILITY [Medium: Success] – Yes, he’s drunk. But the scholar is also sharing his most cherished dreams with you; perhaps he has never told anyone else about them. Kalkstein, too, is intoxicated by that unearthly light, only in a different way. He wants to follow the path of moonlight into the unknown, even if the journey should last a lifetime.
KALKSTEIN – …If I ever manage to send an expedition out there, to the stars, I would want you on the crew.
RESOLVE [Impossible: Success] – There is something Kalkstein left unsaid, for he is afraid of the thought himself… Most of those stars are probably completely uninhabited, like islands in the Great Sea. They simply drift somewhere through the surrounding ether — infinitely distant, cold, and empty. There are myriads of them, and yet when you look up at the sky, you feel that crushing loneliness and melancholy more keenly than ever. No. There is no one up there looking back.
NARRATOR – You hiccup again. The alchemist, finding it increasingly difficult to keep his balance, leans his full weight against you.
KALKSTEIN – We’ll call ourselves… hmm… the Star Brothers. No! The Brotherhood of the Celestial Sphere! Or… the Order of Heavenly Wanderers. We’ll decide later. The important thing is that there will be no borders for us… The whole world will lie before us…
MASQUE [Challenging: Failure] – Magnificent! Two celestial wanderers in search of a home they can call their own.
ARTISTRY [Medium: Failure] – The name still needs work. But given your present condition, that particular problem is probably best left until later.
NARRATOR – Now he hiccups too. You smile contentedly, imagining the two of you arriving on some distant planet in all your glory. The first to set foot on alien soil. You will name it after yourselves. Proclaim the dawn of a new age of great accomplishments.
VICE [Easy: Success] – And IMMEDIATELY open the first tavern! Civilization ought to begin with the essentials.
CODEX [Trivial: Failure] – Actually, there was some well-known saying about starting not with a tavern, but with… a square, I think. Starting from one. Or standing in one… I don’t remember.
FOREBODING [Challenging: Success] – But even there, in those unknown reaches, you will smell lilac and gooseberries again. Their scent will drift through alien air. It will live in strange grasses. Lurk among the flowers of that mysterious world. It will not let you go. Ever. And the celestial gates remain locked.
YOU – I… don’t understand anything anymore… What gates?..
FOREBODING – The ones opened with a silver key… She who keeps it has not yet appeared. The time has not yet come.
NARRATOR – How exactly you made it back to your room at the Shaggy Bear is already impossible to remember. The evening has broken apart into separate fragments, clumsily glued together: the cold stone of the fountain, Kalkstein’s shoulder, another bottle of wine, and a piece of cheese your star-brother had thoughtfully brought along, only to drop it into some ditch…
DEFTNESS [Challenging: Failure] – Your limbs, too, were responding less to commands than to… general suggestions.
NARRATOR – You seem to remember first volunteering to walk the alchemist home. Along the way, the two of you finished the wine straight from the bottle and stopped several times to ask street signs and each other for directions. Then Kalkstein, overcome with gratitude and a sudden fit of nobility, decided to escort you back.
DIALECTIC [Medium: Success] – At some point, the system of mutual escort ceased to serve any purpose, but continued operating anyway.
NARRATOR – After that, perhaps you started leading him again. Or he started leading you. All that remains in your memory is the cobblestone street, Kalkstein’s creaking voice, and the stars above the rooftops — dead, distant, yet strangely understanding and gentle.
NARRATOR – You also vaguely remember the alchemist grabbing you by the shoulders outside some house and, breathing wine fumes into your face, officially appointing you first assistant of the future expedition to the stars, which was absolutely certain to take place within the next few months.
WHISPER [Challenging: Failure] – You think the position was called “chief witcher navigator.” Or “senior seeker of the celestial host.” Or something else, not much better.
KALKSTEIN – You absolutely… absolutely must come and visit me one of these days, pan Beaupré. We need to plan everything… We’ll need equipment. Maps. Supplies of wine. Yes, yes, my friend, every great expedition begins with a supply of wine. Take, for instance, the voyage of such a renowned man as…
NARRATOR – The last thing you remember is the corridor, somehow much narrower than it had been during the day, the door to your room, now considerably heavier, and the bed emerging from the darkness like a lifeboat. You collapse onto it without taking off your boots.
RESOLVE [Trivial: Success] – Victory. Incidentally, this time you managed not to lose the other boot.
NARRATOR – Then everything drops away into a black sleep where there are no debts, no stars, and no letters from your former life.