The Witcher – Uchiha Madara!

[Chapter Size: 2000 Words.]

Third Person POV

Kaer Morhen.

...

...

The sound of horse hooves echoed in a corner of the forest as the rider, carrying two swords on his back, approached an opening in one of the local elevations.

When he arrived there, he calmly stopped his horse and took in the entire valley. His eyes scanned the place as he looked directly at Kaer Morhen in the distance.

Geralt had finally arrived after more than a moon's turn since he had left the northern region of Sodden. He stood there, motionless, observing the scenery so familiar to him.

"Finally, I'm home..." he murmured.

Despite these words, his mind was filled with thoughts about the two children he hoped to find at the castle. He didn't know if Vesemir would allow them to stay, even with his signed letter and request. Perhaps, if Vesemir knew what had truly happened in the war, he might not let them remain. But if he had allowed them to stay, then Geralt could talk to him and explain. After all, the situation was not as simple as it might seem.

He urged his horse forward again, turning it as it continued at a slow pace. His journey had not been the best so far. After all, all the kingdoms were in turmoil after the war. Along the way, the name Madara Uchiha echoed through villages, cities, and everywhere, with him being sought after.

The entire journey had been filled with questions. Many stopped Geralt to interrogate him about the boy for whom the kings were offering a generous reward for any information. They always described Madara as a young man traveling alongside a girl with platinum hair and a scar over one eye. He knew that Ciri didn't have such a scar, but Madara had suggested adding this detail to mislead those searching for them in Yennefer's mind. If anyone tried to invade the sorceress's mind, the false details would make the search more difficult.

It had happened more than fifteen times. Knights, mercenaries, bounty hunters, and even peasants approached him with the same questions, and Geralt always denied knowing anything.

As he neared Kaer Morhen, the questions became less frequent. After all, no one ventured into these remote areas. Or at least, that was what he thought.

While walking along a narrow trail, he heard voices in the distance. His sharpened hearing picked up conversations, and he frowned.

"Those aren't Vesemir and the others..." Geralt murmured.

Witchers were never careless with their steps, even when not in combat. The noise indicated that those voices belonged to strangers.

He moved forward cautiously, eyes narrowed. Finding people so close to Kaer Morhen was suspicious. Were they here looking for Madara and Ciri? After the number of questions he had heard during his journey, it wouldn't be unlikely.

"Come on, man! Move that damn cart!" a rough voice ordered.

"I'm trying! It got stuck in the mud, and the wheel is broken! It's not my fault it rained last night!" another retorted.

"Well, we can continue without the cart. After all, we're close to the witchers' castle," a third one said.

"You must be joking! We'll arrive at nightfall. There, we'll have no food or any of our supplies. I doubt the witchers will just let us in and give us food, a hot bath, and a bed!" another protested.

"If it's just to ask for information, we can survive and head back," one of them countered.

The third man was about to respond but was interrupted by another who raised his hand and looked toward the forest with alert eyes.

"Listen..." he said.

The sound of horse hooves echoed on the trail, while the horse remained calm.

So, the three men waited to see who was approaching.

Finally, Geralt emerged from the trail, his yellow eyes fixed on them. He kept his crossbow ready at his side, prepared to draw it at any moment.

"A witcher! That's great!" one of them exclaimed happily.

There were three men: one thin, one fat, and one more muscular. By their appearance and posture, they were clearly mercenaries.

"Sir Witcher!" the more muscular one stepped forward, opening his mouth and revealing a few missing teeth. "What a coincidence meeting you here! We were on our way to visit the famous castle of the School of the Wolf. From what I see, your medallion indicates that you belong to it."

"What do you want?" Geralt asked, cutting him off with a harsh and serious tone, showing no interest in prolonging the conversation.

"Well..." the man hesitated a bit before continuing. "We'd like to ask for some information."

"You could also help us with the cart, witcher!" the fat one said, still trying to push it. The cart was stuck with a broken wheel, and the horse couldn't move forward. There was only one horse, and it was certainly the supply cart they were bringing for the journey.

"What information do you want?" Geralt ignored the request for help and turned his attention back to the mercenary.

"We're looking for two young people. They are my nephews. We just want some information about them," the man said.

Geralt immediately understood what this was about.

"I can't help with that," was his only response, as he continued walking, still keeping his eyes on the mercenaries, ready to act if necessary.

"Wait! We came to hire you! There's a good reward for them!" the man insisted.

"Then go to the castle and hire another witcher, because I don't plan on taking any jobs for now. I came here to rest for a few months," Geralt shrugged and continued on his way.

"But, sir witcher, the reward is very good! I think you should reconsider," the man insisted again.

"I already said: go to the castle and see if someone is willing to do it," was the only thing Geralt replied, not slowing his pace.

"And the cart? Can't you help?" the thin man asked.

"That's not my problem," Geralt responded indifferently, shrugging again as he walked away, leaving them stunned.

Sending them to the castle was a strategic decision. If he simply denied the information and moved on, it might raise suspicions. This way, he just seemed uninterested.

Leaving the three men behind and already feeling the mild headache they might cause at Kaer Morhen's gate, Geralt continued his journey. His only relief was the sight of Kaer Morhen and the comforting feeling of being back home.

The road stretched on for a few more hours. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to arrive until the sound of a branch snapping among the trees caught his attention.

Quickly, he turned to the side and saw the boy appear at the top of a tree before jumping down, landing lightly on the trail in front of him.

"You finally arrived," Madara commented before glancing back. "Did you see those three?"

"I think you already know the answer," Geralt murmured.

Madara didn't deny it and simply nodded.

"Yes, I've been watching them since morning. I managed to break the cart with a kick without them noticing, just to see if they'd give up coming here," he explained.

Geralt remained silent for a few seconds, analyzing him.

"If you're here, that means Vesemir let you and Ciri stay at Kaer Morhen," he said.

Madara nodded.

"Was Vesemir very hard on you?" Geralt asked.

"I can't deny he was suspicious at first... and still is. He doesn't know what happened in the war down south. I hope you talk to him. If needed, leave Ciri in Kaer Morhen, and I'll go away for a while, but we'll discuss that later. I'll inform my original that you've arrived, and Vesemir will know as well," Madara said before turning into smoke and disappearing.

"A clone... what a surprise," Geralt murmured as he continued forward.

Two more hours later, he was finally crossing the river near the castle. He kept riding until he spotted Eskel at the entrance, pulling a rope as he tied it, probably doing some maintenance on the gate.

Eskel looked at Geralt, but without any surprise, as Madara had probably already informed him of his arrival.

"You're finally here, Geralt," Eskel commented with a small, tight smile, not showing much emotion—a typical trait of witchers.

"Yes," Geralt replied curtly.

"Well, let's go," Eskel said, motioning toward the entrance as he finished his task.

As he entered the courtyard, Geralt saw Vesemir standing with his arms crossed, watching Ciri train with a wooden sword against a training dummy. Geralt raised an eyebrow, intrigued. It seemed that Vesemir was teaching the girl, which was quite unlikely.

Vesemir's gaze shifted to Geralt the moment he noticed his arrival.

"You finally arrived," Vesemir said.

With those words, Ciri stopped her training and, surprised, looked back. Her eyes widened upon seeing Geralt before she broke into a wide smile and ran toward him.

"Geralt! You're finally here!" she exclaimed excitedly as he dismounted from his horse.

"I am," he replied, affectionately touching the girl's head before shifting his gaze to Vesemir. "How are things around here, Vesemir?"

With a tight press of his lips, the old witcher looked somewhat tired.

"I'm managing as best as I can. There are some things I can't complain about, but others for which I'd really like some answers," he murmured, clearly wanting to discuss the matter further.

"We'll talk about it later. But, in any case..." Geralt paused. "Are you training the girl?" he asked, curious.

"I'm helping her today, in particular. Even if she doesn't become a witcher, from what I've seen, she certainly has talent, and she trains hard with the help of the other boy," Vesemir said with a slight, proud smile.

"Geralt! You're finally here!" Coën emerged from the castle ruins as well, approaching his companion.

Geralt shook his hand.

"Well, now that we're all here, take care of your horse. Let's head inside. Lambert and Madara are busy in there," Eskel said.

Geralt nodded, and Ciri set her sword aside. Together, they walked into the castle.

As soon as they opened the door, they heard a voice coming from inside.

"Come on, kid! Help me out here!" Lambert exclaimed impatiently.

"Can't you handle your own potions? Don't you see I'm busy over here?" Madara's voice replied in a neutral tone.

"Stop being stingy, kid! Just give me a hand!" Lambert grumbled, while someone seemed to get up, taking a few soft steps.

The witchers outside finally saw Madara standing before a cauldron, placing some herbs inside it. Lambert was busy manipulating the fire sign, shaking it to control the flame.

"See? I knew you wouldn't leave me hanging, kid!" Lambert said as Madara shot him a glance and then turned to his companions.

Noticing Geralt, Madara gave him a slight nod. He had already received information from his clone earlier, so he wasn't surprised.

"Geralt, you finally made it, you rascal! Where the hell did you pick up these two brats?" Lambert teased, not taking his eyes off the cauldron as he continued stirring the ingredients.

Geralt didn't answer the question, simply returning the greeting.

"Lambert."

"Well, now that we're all here, we can talk," Vesemir said, crossing his arms and looking at everyone with a serious expression—one that quickly spread among most of the witchers. Only Madara seemed to maintain a neutral look.

"After all, we have a group of three people heading here at this very moment... and they're a problem," Vesemir continued. "While we're hiding these two children here, this could make things complicated."

"What are we going to do, Vesemir?" Geralt asked in the end.

"First, I want to know everything about these two, from your mouth. I want the whole truth," Vesemir demanded.

-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------

Chapter 175 - The move of the King of Kaedwen.

Chapter 180 - Starting the plan.

Chapter 190 - The Attack on Non-Humans in Kaedwen 01.

Chapter 199 - How long has it been, Yennefer...

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