At the same time, within the Temple of Ulfric—
The Witcher Gonz, who had just been tricked by his own apprentice, sat upright across from Father Richard, the presiding priest of the temple.
Among the few church orders that maintained a good relationship with witchers, the priests of the War God Ulfric were highly respected. Through their courage and numerous collaborations with witchers on the frontlines of the Chaos-occupied zones, they had earned the witchers trust.
Richard, the head priest of the Ulfric Temple in the port city of Anthony, had once fought side by side with Gonz. Together, they successfully prevented a Chaos incursion along the border of the Old Road.
"The War God shelters every warrior who dares to fight," Richard said. His physique was far from that of a typical clergyman—he looked more like a battle-hardened soldier. "That little one you sent over is fine now. After some rest, he'll recover completely."
Gonz thanked his old friend, then lowered his head before the statue of the War God in reverence. He placed a few precious gemstones from the elven lands at its feet as an offering.
Then, with a trace of regret on his face, he said, "I appreciate your help, old friend. But that's not why I came here today. I'm sure you've already noticed—the gate to Chaos in the Black Forest outside the city has been opened. I failed to stop it in time. Before long, swarms of demonic entities will pour out and overrun the forest. I fear this city alone won't be able to hold out for long."
Richard patted his friend's shoulder. "Our Lord has already sent down an oracle. A group of holy paladins is on their way to reinforce us—it's only a matter of whether they'll arrive in time. This failure shouldn't rest on your shoulders. The Dawn Church's actions have already been reported. All factions who signed the Flamebearers Pact will send representatives to question the Dawn Church's conduct this time. But… this is beyond the Church's territory, and they have strong ties to the New World. I doubt it'll lead to much."
Gonz sighed. "The Knights of the Lord of Dawn are still as proud and inflexible as ever. Their childish black-and-white worldview blinds them. I'll head to Kaer Morhen to raise my objections. The witchers will no longer cooperate with them—it's been nothing but a nightmare."
Richard's lips twitched, as though he wanted to say something, but Gonz continued before he could.
"Richard, I need to meet with the local lord. I bring goodwill from the elves—they wish to form an alliance with the lord here to resist the Chaos invasion together. But the local nobles turned me away. I can't even get my message through to the lord himself."
Richard gave an awkward smile. "Things here are… complicated. The only heir of the Anthony family is still underage, so for now, the city is managed by the Anthony family's steward—Mr. Antoine. Because the late Count Anthony distrusted the Church, relations between us and the city's nobility have always been strained. This temple itself was only built after Antoine became acting lord. I think… it should be possible for you to speak with him instead."
Gonz frowned. "My instincts tell me you're hiding something. I can hear the insincerity in your tone, old friend. A steward? Since when does a steward have the authority to negotiate alliances with other factions? Don't tell me the Church has sided with a traitor scheming to usurp his lord's seat—just because the rightful lord was hostile toward you?"
The earliest witchers had been selected from among noble bastards with strong physiques and exceptional potential. But as the death rate during the trials remained high, the order gradually opened its doors to people from all walks of life. Regardless of their birth, once one became a witcher, their past identity was erased completely.
Even so, one fact remained undeniable—their external funding mostly came from noble families across both the Old and New Wolrd. Unlike the great churches, who received tithes from their followers, or the mage organizations, who monopolized the production of magical items and thus never lacked for money, the witchers—being one of the few warrior orders that could stand on equal footing with those powers—relied entirely on massive annual sponsorships.
For centuries, the nobles had continually provided the witchers with financial support, enabling the order to survive despite its brutal mortality rate. In return, the hunters were granted freedom to operate across noble territories, so they could focus solely on their duty—purging Chaos and maintaining humanity's fragile stability.
And the nobles, in turn, asked for only one thing: protection of their bloodlines.
In this world's hierarchy of power, even the lowliest slave could, through fate or fortune, ascend into a being of supernatural might. Yet no noble could guarantee that their descendants would inherit the valor or strength of their forebears.
No lord wished to see the legacy they had built over a lifetime torn away by some wandering superhuman. Thus, the witchers became the nobles' hired guardians—keepers of legitimacy and protectors of their rule.
The Witcher Council had once made a solemn vow: any witcher traveling abroad must answer a local lord's call for aid. They were to protect noble lives and act as mediators in conflicts, conducting public investigations when necessary.
If the local nobles were indeed being extorted or threatened by any human or nonhuman, the witcher would defend them with force. But if the situation was reversed—if the nobles were the oppressors—then the witchers would conduct an open trial and bring justice upon them.
For hundreds of years, the witchers had abided by the laws established in noble territories—no matter how absurd those laws might be. As long as the matter didn't involve Chaos, they refrained from interference.
Of course, there were always exceptions. Some witchers with a stronger sense of justice occasionally intervened when the local nobles' cruelty went too far—punishing, or even executing them on the spot. The noble alliance often turned a blind eye to such incidents, pretending they never happened.
But for the most part, the witchers helped local lords maintain order in their domains, preventing unrest that could give Chaos cults the opportunity to take root.
Over time, an unspoken arrangement formed: nobles paid annual "protection fees," ensuring the witchers could continue their work, while the witchers upheld the lords' authority in return.
This was precisely why Antoine—the steward—grew fearful upon learning a witcher had entered the city. And as for Father Richard, his position was caught between both sides. The late Count Anthony had long oppressed the Church, while the ambitious Antoine, greedy and lustful though he was, saw aligning with the Church as his only path to power.
Thus, the Church chose to feign ignorance of the brewing coup—turning a blind eye to the Anthony family's downfall while quietly supporting a more Church-friendly successor.
(End of Chapter)
TN: Damn, what a complicated situation but hey love the treatment the witchers get here that compared to the game.