1. Rest and Recovery in the Mahakam Highlands
After the thunderous clash with the chimeras and the arduous labor of harvesting hides, glands, and glands, the Romeld Company earned a hard-fought respite. Seven days passed in restorative routine. Visenna converted the tower's lower hall into an infirmary, treating bruises, claw wounds, and frostbitten fingers with her skillful hands. Swallow potions and layered poultices accelerated healing; Black Blood potions ensured no necrophage could take advantage of fallen warriors. Jacob and Eskel took turns sparring in the courtyard, testing new blade forms against wooden dummies carved to mimic chimera torsos. Dick and Vicky mapped the surrounding foothills, charting grottoes and ledges where wyverns might nest. Geralt spent long hours in the improvised alchemy lab, refining his space-bag prototypes and enchanting runic crystals for the Master–Servant circles they planned to employ.
On the morning of the eighth day, dawn revealed a ring of jagged peaks carved by ancient glaciers. The low light glimmered on patches of snow nestled in rocky hollows. From deep within the clefts came a chorus of guttural roars and leathery wingbeats—wyverns patrolling their natal cliffs. The creatures' distinctive yips and screeches carried on the thin air, echoing like thunder through narrow passes.
Geralt stood at the tower's parapet, keenly attuned to the wyverns' patterns. These beasts were notoriously territorial: two-legged predators with barbed tails, razor beaks, and leathery wings capable of carrying them over great distances. Capturing and taming even a single wyvern was considered a reckless gamble—yet the potential rewards were immense. A bonded wyvern would serve as aerial reconnaissance, rapid transport, and formidable deterrent in any battle.
Turning to his companions, Geralt's voice was steady. "We rest no longer. These wyverns can be tamed through blood pacts if we employ the Master–Servant ritual correctly. We wound them—inflict non-lethal injuries—then seal the contract with our blood. They will owe us their loyalty and guide us through the skies. It's risky but worth the gamble."
Vesemir nodded, his stern features softened by a glint of excitement. "I've seen beast tamers of the South employ similar rites. Wyverns respect strength, but their bond is sealed by honor and magic. We can do this."
3. Preparing the Master–Servant Circles
In the days that followed, the company assembled the necessary materials to draw ten Supreme-level Master–Servant circles—one for each wyvern they intended to bond. Each circle required:
A base of wyvern skin treated and stretched into a firm parchment
Bone styluses carved from dwarven mithril ore for drawing runes
Vials of Geralt's blood, Visenna's blood for stability, and small drops from each companion to share the bond
Oil lamps and wind shields to illuminate the rough mountain campsites at night
They also crafted lightweight frames—collapsible wooden rings woven with dimeritium thread—to support the circles' structure on uneven ground. Each companion practiced the Elder Speech incantations, ensuring perfect pronunciation to avoid misfires. Geralt reminded them that a single misdrawn rune could spell disaster: the wyvern might tear them apart or flee into the stormy heights forever.
4. The Ritual of Bonding
On the evening of the twelfth day, the company crept into a wide plateau where three adult wyverns—distinct in size and markings—circled overhead, hunting mountain ibex among wind-scarred ledges. They chose a clearing near a rocky outcrop for cover and unrolled the first skin circle. Flickering lantern light danced over the crimson runes as Geralt carved the Master sigil at the center and concentric Servant rings around it.
With careful precision, he nicked his palm and let a single drop of blood fall onto the central rune. Vesemir did likewise, adding his blood to stabilize the rite. Jacob, Dick, and Vicky lent their drops to the surrounding rings. After the final rune was inked, the circle glowed with azure light, humming with latent magic.
Geralt signaled Eskel, who produced a long-range crossbow and anchored a non-lethal bolt tipped with mandrake extract. On Geralt's word, Eskel loosed the bolt at the largest wyvern, aiming for the thick hide of its flank. The wyvern screeched in surprise and pain, spiraling to the ground. Its massive wingspan churned dust as it struggled to rise.
Geralt and Vesemir approached with drawn swords and shielded runic wards. The wounded wyvern lunged but its movements were sluggish. Using Aard, Geralt slammed it into the ground with enough force to daze but not kill. The other wyverns soared away at the commotion, letting out warning calls.
Now comes the delicate moment: blood sealing. Geralt pressed his bleeding palm atop the center rune again. The wyvern's yellow eyes, glinting with residual rage, locked onto his smaller form. He spoke softly in Elder Speech: "Bind yourself to me. Share your skies, guard our path. I command no servitude beyond honor and mutual respect."
The circle flared as the vyvern's claw touched the first Servant ring. Magic crackled; the beast shivered. Finally, its body relaxed, its heavy breathing slowing as the bond locked into place. Geralt felt a jolt of connection—a pulse of primal instinct and ancient power acknowledging him as master.
Repeating the ritual, they wounded and bound the second and third wyverns in turn. Each required a different tactic: the second, more agile, necessitated a precise Igni blast to scorch its wing membrane; the third, heavier but wiser, demanded careful Quen wards to protect the truce.
5. Testing the Bonded Wyverns
At first light, the jagged peaks glowed with pale winter sunlight. Geralt and his companions arranged themselves atop a rocky ledge overlooking a deep ravine, the wind whipping their cloaks and armor. The three bonded wyverns—now acting under the Master–Servant pact—perched on adjacent crags, their scales catching the light like burnished steel.
Geralt spoke aloud the simple telepathic command, testing the circle's range and clarity: "Follow in formation. Circle low." Immediately, the wyverns flexed their wings in unison and took to the sky, their flight silent save for the powerful thrust of their wingbeats. They glided through the thin air, weaving between cliffs with an agility confounding for creatures of their bulk.
Below, the Romeld Company saddled their horses and prepared to follow. Geralt sensed the wyverns' instincts merging with his own—he could feel their anticipation, the keen hunger for aerial freedom, and their calm trust in his guidance. The bond extended a sense of security: if they fell, the wyverns would carry them to safety; if danger arose, they'd serve as scouts and guardians.
Geralt gathered his companions. "We ride with new wings. We can cross these peaks in hours, reach Kaer Morhen before the snows close the passes. Let's move."
The signal given, the group mounted specially crafted saddles for wyverns—reinforced leather frames with secure harnesses—and began the ascent. Geralt climbed aboard the largest wyvern, feeling its hot breath through the reins. With a single squeeze of his legs and an encouraging word, they ascended in a powerful surge, breaking dawn's grip on the mountain valley.
The flight was exhilarating and sobering: below, the dwarven valleys shrank to pinpricks, and distant smoke from dwarven forges curled into the sky. Geralt opened channels with the wyvern's mind, assessing wind currents and thermal columns. They reached heights where only mountain vultures dared to fly, but the wyverns soared with ease.
They landed in a sheltered basin near the base of the mountains, accompanied by the echoing siren calls of the future peaks. Their next task loomed large: provisioning Kaer Morhen with livestock before winter's full onset. They intended to drive 500 goats, 500 pigs, 50 cows and 10 bulls across the high passes—a massive undertaking requiring more than simple wrangling.
Geralt's plan was both practical and strategic: by applying Axii to livestock pens, they could guide the animals through the mountains with minimal stress and without alerting human settlements (who might see a massive herd as opportunity for theft).
First, they purchased the herds from a dwarven broker at Hammerfall—pre-selected for hardiness, each animal's health certified. The goats, sure-footed on rocky slopes; the pigs, thick-coated for winter; the cows, lean breeds accustomed to alpine pastures.
Geralt and Dick administered carefully measured applications of Axii to the herd.
They set out with the wyverns overhead and horses at their side, driving the goats and pigs over lower mountain passes, while the cows followed the most level paths. The journey spanned 1 month, crossing frozen streams and deep snow drifts. When weather threatened, the wyverns scouted ahead, finding sheltered glades where the herds could graze and rest. At night, Dick and Jacob patrolled the lines, warding against predator attacks and reviving any animal weakened by the cold with Swallow potions.
On the fourty fifth day, the mass of livestock and the Romeld Company crested the final ridge. Kaer Morhen appeared , the ancient witcher keep, its stone walls dusted with the season's first snow. Smoke from hearthfires rose in slender columns, and in the courtyard, Vesemir's familiar form stood watch. Geralt and his brothers waved as they walk into the fortified sanctuary.
The livestock found their winter pastures in the valley below: goats on rocky ledges, pigs in sheltered barns, and cows in heated stalls where Visenna had arranged straw bedding and warming charms.
Within the keep, they distributed supplies ordered en route: sacks of grain, barrels of salted meat, kegs of strong dwarven ale, and bundles of warm furs. They set up beds for traveling quarters, placed trays of winter fruits and cheeses near hearths, and ensured each room contained personal chests filled with essentials: clothing, quivers, oil lamps.
After securing the livestock, Geralt and his companions made their way to the great hall. The torchlit chamber crackled with hearth warmth. Vesemir, leaning on his long silver-hilted sword, greeted them with a broad grin and clasped Geralt's forearm.
Behind Vesemir stood unexpected visitors: Lembert—a wiry teenager with bright eyes and calloused hands—and Berengar. Both bore winter cloaks and backpacks; the jagged journey had tested them.
Geralt surveyed the faces around him—his forged family of warriors, healers, redeemed outcasts, and gifted beasts. Snow fell lightly outside, but within Kaer Morhen's walls, a new chapter was beginning: one of compassion, strength, and bonds sealed by both magic and shared purpose.
As the first winter storm whipped across the mountains, Geralt felt the weight of what they'd achieved. From Novigrad's dangerous intrigue to Mahakam's savage beasts, from the roar of wyverns to the stampede of livestock, their journey had tested every aspect of their skills—combat, alchemy, magic, diplomacy, and leadership.
Now at Kaer Morhen, home for a time, they would train, recover, and shape the next generation of witchers and volunteers. The Master–Servant and Unbreakable-Pact contracts would be refined, and the space bags would store tomes and relics in the keep's libraries. Yet of greater importance was the principle they embodied: alliances formed through mutual respect, magic used to protect rather than oppress, and life cherished even amid the world's relentless darkness.
Winter's hush settled over the mountains, blanketing the keep in silence. But inside, laughter and conversation echoed. Geralt allowed himself a rare moment of contentment—surrounded by allies he'd sworn to guide and protect, bonded by blood and honor, and ready to face whatever storms the Continent might bring next.