A/N: Welcome to the fanfic! It's been a while since I wrote anything at all, and I suddenly got the urge to write a fanfic.
This is a story that is inherently introducing technology, mainly the many uses of gunpowder, to the world of the witcher, you know, typical stuff. Mind you, however, gunpowder already exists in this world. But, the application of it is only limited to the use of bombs and explosives. Firearms are considered 'impractical' if you read the story of Ortolan, though the way he made the firearm, of which he made a proto-gatling gun, makes sense on why people think it's impractical. But still, if that doesn't suit you, it is simply not for you. It won't of course go to modern inventions of technology.
But as the lore suggests, the world of the Witcher is very close to an industrial revolution, if not already in the early stages of it. The Continent is a strange world to write about things like this, because the technology of the world is very anachronistic, much more so than other fantasy worlds. At one point, genes, DNA, mutations, vaccines, are already discovered, but at another point, a pen or a pencil doesn't exist yet and they're still using quills, and they're still doing the classic medieval style of warfare and way of living. Personally, like any other fantasy world, I blame it on magic, and maybe feudalism.
In terms of character, the MC's a normal person, not a noble, not talented in magic, nothing, just a scholar of engineering and alchemy, and dabbles in other things. He's more of a bookworm rather than a fighter, rarely ever wielding a sword.
While this is a bit of kingdom building, this isn't a sort of conquering-type of fanfic. He has a hometown that he'll somewhat develop, but he'll mostly only defend against any attacks, and rarely expands. Think of it like the Swiss.
This fanfic will be updated slowly. every chapter consists around 4000 - 7000 words.
Lastly, a note for the first chapter itself. It has a very different vibe from the rest of the fanfic. It's supposed to show as the title says, shedding out the old chapter of his life and beginning the transition with the new, along with the purpose of adding some history to MC's new life in this world, as he's not going to start from a child. I want to show a glimpse of his life before this story, but I think I might've overdone it a little on a specific side. So, sorry if you're a bit thrown off by it.
Anyway, if there's any grammatical mistakes, please point them out nicely, and enjoy the story!
—
—
[Oxenfurt, December 1270]
As the sun began to sink in the distance, a young man walked along the wet, stony road of the Oxenfurt Academy. Snow clung to the rooftops and the edges of the cobbled paths, and he was wrapped in thick clothing to shield himself from the biting cold. In his hands he carried a bundle of papers. Step by step, he pressed on until he reached a certain building.
He knocked on the door before pushing it open. At once, the sharp stench of spoiled eggs and rot filled his nostrils. Though the smell itself was not from spoiled eggs but rather from the alchemical brews simmering in a corner of the room. Watching over the mixture stood a man somewhat older than him, neatly dressed, as befitted of an educated scholar.
"Armet. You've come," the middle-aged man said, turning to greet him. "I assume you've brought your final manuscript? With all the revisions?"
"Here it is, professor," replied the young man, placing the stack of papers upon the desk. "The ink is still fresh."
The professor gave a thoughtful hum, extinguished the alchemical flame, and walked over. He looked through the pages carefully. "Everything appears to be in order. Congratulations. You've finished your diploma in Alchemy, at least, once I wrote the letter to the faculty office to formalize it."
Armet inclined his head. "Thank you, professor. For everything."
The professor smiled faintly. "And how goes the other one?"
"All finished as well," Armet answered. "I submitted both the prototype and the manuscript. They awarded the diploma yesterday."
"Then your burden has grown lighter." The man drew a sheet of parchment and dipped his quill, before he began drafting a letter. "I hear you will be going home."
"Yes," said Armet. "It has been some time since I last returned."
The professor paused, then opened a desk drawer. He retrieved a small pouch and placed it before Armet. "One last gift from me."
"Professor…" Armet hesitated. "I don't—"
"I insist," the man interrupted gently. "You've been invaluable to my research, and you will need coins for the journey back to Upper Aedirn. That way you can settle down back in your hometown with your own coin."
With a resigned sigh, Armet accepted the pouch. "Then I thank you, professor."
The professor merely gave another quiet hum and continued writing until the letter was done. He handed it to Armet. "Here. Deliver this to the faculty office and claim your diploma. I suppose this is farewell, Armet. I wish you well in all that lies ahead."
Taking the letter, Armet nodded, then turned to leave. "Farewell, professor."
—
The Three Little Bells Inn was always filled with people of all ages, but right now most of its patrons were the young and educated. The sound of strings and drums filled the air, and many danced in the hall, their faces bright with smiles and laughter. Young men and women mingled together, wine in hand, celebrating their newly earned diplomas from the Oxenfurt Academy. Whether they came from the Faculty of Fine Arts, Natural History, Technology, or any other, they gathered here in merriment.
It was the same for Armet, who had worked hard these past years, earning a double diploma in Technology and Alchemy. Now, however, he stood alone. His peers were out in the hall dancing, while he lingered near a window, wine in hand, watching the snow fall into the night.
From time to time, his gaze shifted from the drifting snow to his own reflection in the glass. His black hair, his brown eyes, his thin beard, his slight sun-burnt skin. He had seen his reflection countless times—on mirrors, in quicksilver, or in water—but tonight it stirred something deeper in him. It reminded him of all the years he had lived in this world. This wasn't his first life, it was his second. And he remembered both of them, past and present. In his first life, this world had been nothing more than fiction. Now, it was reality, whether he liked it or not.
And this reality came with its own baggage. Baggage he had mostly managed to avoid during his years as a student at Oxenfurt. But now that he had graduated, he wondered if all that baggage would finally come crashing down on him.
Still, as heavy as this world's baggage might be, it also carried opportunities.
Before another thought could form in his mind, he felt a touch on his shoulder. A touch that made him turn. Before him stood a very familiar face, one he hadn't seen in years. It was a young woman. A young woman Armet knew well. A dear old friend. Or at least, she had been.
"Nice to see you here." She smiled almost longingly, brushing her red hair aside before leaning against the window. Hugging herself for warmth, she looked out at the falling snow and chuckled. "Figures."
"Figures what?" Armet asked with a thin, almost forced smile.
"That you'd be staring at the snow instead of dancing," she said. "You're always like that."
Armet chuckled, leaning against the wall opposite her. "I danced for a little bit."
"I saw. And as always, not very good at it." She laughed. "That's why I know you're here."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Armet asked.
"I thought you'd already gotten your diploma a year or two ago, knowing you," she muttered. "Apparently not."
"Well, I had to wait for someone to finish hers too." Armet smiled.
She frowned deeply. "You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."
"I am," Armet laughed. "I got the chance to earn a second diploma a couple of years back, after you left."
"That sounds more like you," she sighed, relieved. "A double diploma then. What's the other one?"
"Alchemy," Armet said. "Professor La Voisier gave me a scholarship in exchange for a lot of things. Help, ideas, ghostwriting, you name it. Since I didn't really have the money to keep paying tuition, it was the only way."
"So our little side-business crumbled as soon as I left?" she raised a brow.
"Are you serious?" Armet frowned. "And why do you think that is?"
She fell silent for a moment, then winced as memory caught up with her. "Ah. Right. That. I forgot." She shifted uncomfortably, then muttered, "Still, you could have found another client."
"Well, I sold some spare parts from my faculty to random people. But without a student from the Medical Faculty by my side, I couldn't sell medicinal herbs anymore for obvious reasons. Still, I miss those days," Armet muttered.
"Well, you got into the Alchemy Faculty. Why didn't you sell rare alchemical ingredients?" she asked, raising a brow in curiosity.
"I dabble, but not that seriously. Like I said, I already had a scholarship." Armet rolled his eyes. "And having a double diploma doesn't really leave much free time. But enough about me, I want to know what you've been doing all these years, Shani."
She only smiled and turned to glance at the crowd behind them, which was growing drunker by the hour. "It's getting rowdy here," she said. "Want to go to my place?"
Armet chuckled. "You know what my answer will be."
Her face softened, tinged with regret. "Right… Alright, let's stay here, then. What do you want to know?"
"Well, speaking of our little side-business, we never saw each other again after you ended that by killing our client," Armet said simply.
"Ookay." She rolled her eyes. "First of all, I didn't kill him. It was the sorceress. And she didn't kill him either. She just… tortured him until his mind broke. Maybe someone finished him out of mercy."
"You know, I should remind myself to stay away from Dandelion and all his friends," Armet muttered. "Nothing good ever happens with him around."
"Hey, he's nice," Shani argued. "But… you might be onto something there. Anyway, after that, I was assigned to the army. Stitching up soldiers, pulling out arrows, things like that. I was there, even. At Brenna."
"As a junior medic, I presume."
Shani scoffed. "Of course, what else? Traveling with an army is something else. But late last year it disbanded, and I arrived in Vizima early this year, just as the Catriona plague broke out. I stayed to help contain the spread."
"After all that, you're still alive. You're one lucky lass." Armet whistled. "And now you're here to finish your doctorate? Your life is certainly more adventurous than mine these past years."
"Definitely." She chuckled, then softened her gaze again. "After this, I'm planning to open a clinic here. I already have the permit and everything."
"That's good." Armet hummed. "Congratulations."
She looked at him nervously. "What about you? What are you doing after this? More study here?"
Armet shook his head, making Shani's face fall slightly. "I'm going back home. To Vergen. The war's over, at least for now, and maybe I'll do something there. It's been a while since I've seen the dwarves I grew up with."
"I… see," Shani murmured. "Are you setting up a workshop there? Quite a waste of the diploma, don't you think? You could've just not spent half your life so far in the academy and make one of the dwarves take you as an apprentice if that's the case."
"That may be. But as an engineer and an alchemist, there is only so much I can do here in Oxenfurt that actually feels useful," Armet answered. "Besides, I have a feeling the war is not truly over. These past few years are a heartstopper I tell you. Heard Kaedwen invaded Vergen but failed, thank the gods for that. And now I do not want my hometown sacked by the Black Ones nor Kaedwen again, not if I can do something about it, especially knowing what Aedirn is like. If another war starts, the frontline will change from the Yaruga to the Pontar again in a matter of months. "
"You? Going to the frontlines?" Shani asked with a smile.
"You are one to talk. You just said you were at Brenna," Armet scoffed. He placed his cup of wine on the windowsill and sighed deeply. "It is quite late. Perhaps I should go."
"Already?" She raised her brow. "I don't remember you being a light drinker. In fact, quite the opposite. Or… is it because of me?"
"Shani…" Armet sighed. "If you remember, we did not exactly part ways on friendly terms."
Shani smiled bitterly. "And here I thought the saying that time heals all wounds was actually true. You even laughed and joked. I was getting my hopes up."
Armet chuckled softly. "You are… a dear old friend, even still."
"We were something much more," she muttered, eyes cast down toward the floor.
"Well… you did not say that before," Armet replied quietly. "That this was never going to be long-term. And a lot more meaner things, do you want me to say it one by one? Or should we just shut up before this turns ugly again?"
"What I want to say is… I'm sorry," she murmured. "I was young, and stupid, and reckless. I know this will not turn everything back to normal. But I at least want to apologize. I want peace of mind that you can still tolerate me, in some way."
Armet sighed and glanced around. The crowd behind them had grown even drunker.
"I knew it was a mistake," he muttered. "I should not have thought of you as more than a friend. But call it teenage stupidity, hormonal urges. I was naive to think that it would change. That you would change for me."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked quietly. "So you think we were a mistake? That it was… stupid?"
"You said that first, if you remember," he replied calmly.
"Yeah, but…" She stopped, hesitating. "You know I have been in a couple of relationships these past few years. And subconsciously I kept comparing all of them to you. Every one of them ended quickly because of it. So I'm sorry I said that. I really am."
Armet smiled thinly. "That was sweet of you to say. Alright. I am sorry, I said it a bit harshly. But still, we are very different people, Shani. I love to stay still and shut myself in my room, and you love the outdoors and adventure. Your calling is tending to the ill and the wounded, while mine is my obsession with weapons of war. Like oil and water, it was never going to work. You and I were never going to change for each other."
"Still, the way I ruined it… it was not fair to you," she said. "You were desperate to make me stay. I knew you were worried about me when I went with Dandelion, I overreacted, and I should not have said those mean and false things to you."
"Well, I always knew you were attracted to danger. That mage-hunting business was never ours in the first place, but you decided to delve into it anyway. And as soon as I saw that sorceress, I knew it was never going to be a straightforward thing." Armet chuckled. "And like you said, we were young. I should not have tried to stop you in the first place. I should have let you go, I mean you were surrounded by a witcher and a sorceress for gods' sake, or maybe that's the problem, the witcher and the sorceress. Perhaps things would be different then. But adolescence is rarely logical. It is emotional, and… hornier."
She chuckled shyly. "We were quite horny back then."
"You definitely were," Armet said with a smile, brushing a strand of Shani's hair away from her face with his hand. "If you had not been with me, you would have slept with that witcher right there and then."
Shani rolled her eyes. "I admit Geralt is attractive, but I am not that horny. I've got a wonderful boy with me at that time, one that was very dear to me."
"I would not be so sure about that."
She frowned, though playfully. "You know I always know what I want. But with you, it is always a jumbled mess. I never know what to think, what to feel, or even what I want. I feel like you just insulted me to my face, yet I cannot focus because of the way you brushed my hair like that. I missed that. I do not know what I want to do now. Punch you in the face? Kiss you?"
"Neither," Armet said simply. He held her hand for a brief moment, gave it a gentle squeeze, then let it go. "Take care, Shani. I hope you will always be well."
A flicker of panic crossed Shani's face, and before Armet could leave, she caught his hand. "Wait," she muttered. "Please, can we spend time together? One last time. I might not see you again after this, since you will be going home to your hometown. And after all these years I… I missed you."
"Shani…" Armet murmured. He looked at her hand gripping his, then sighed. "Alright. Let's go to my place."
—
The smell of dust greeted Armet as he pushed open the door to his place. The room was a mess, not from neglect but because of half-packed belongings scattered about. He slipped off his cloak and dropped it over a chair. Behind him, Shani stepped in and hung her own cloak neatly on the stand by the door.
"You can put your cloak on the—" Armet turned, then stopped, realizing she had already done what he was about to suggest.
Shani smiled with quiet amusement. "You've told me that a hundred times, Armet. I decided to listen this once."
"Right…" he muttered, moving further inside. "Make yourself at home."
Shani wandered instead of sitting, her eyes tracing over the books, notes, and tools scattered around, each half-packed into crates or left where he last used them. A wave of nostalgia passed over her, and she smiled faintly.
"You know, my mother was angry when she found out I parted ways with you," she said out of nowhere.
Armet's voice drifted from the next room. "How so? I never got the impression she liked me. Something about me not being rich or well-established."
"Well, she thought better a man with potential than no man at all." Shani's smile was a mix of humor and regret. "She said I should have found a husband at the academy. I suppose I had a candidate for that… until that crumbled."
"It's the thirteenth century, Shani. Women don't do that anymore."
"Do what?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Hunt for husbands at the academy. They go there to actually learn."
"I suppose you're right," she murmured, half to herself.
Armet returned then, carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. He set them on the table.
Shani stepped closer, glancing at the label. A soft laugh escaped her. "Erveluce? Fancy."
"Traded it for some spare parts." Armet pulled the cork free, the faint pop echoing in the quiet room. He poured the dark liquid into the glasses. "Saved it for special occasions. Though now, I am moving. Anything to lighten the load."
"Well, I never say no to an expensive wine," she said, taking a glass. She did not sit, but wandered as she sipped. Armet watched her move through the cluttered room.
"Even with all the mess, it is still the same as always," she muttered. She came to a desk where drawings and manuscripts were stacked. "What is this? 'Chemical Fertilizer'? You? Making fertilizer? I was half sure your Alchemy paper was about an explosive."
"We cannot show all our trade secrets to the academy, can we?" Armet said with a smile.
"And what is your Technology diploma about? An improved irrigation system?" she asked, amused.
"Just a water pump actually. Quite easy to make." Armet shrugged.
"Unbelievable." She shook her head. "So you are not going to submit your half a dozen prototypes of Zerrikanian powder weapons?"
"Well, they are still there," he said, pointing to a chest in the corner. "You can take one if you want."
She laughed. "What for?"
"To defend yourself, what else?"
"I would rather have a knife," Shani said. "Your weapon takes a long time to load. I would be dead before I could get a shot. You have shown me that plenty of times."
Armet chuckled. "You are right, but in warfare it is not only about that."
"About what, then? I have seen war, Armet. A group of men carrying your weapons would be slaughtered by archers before they could fire."
"You are right again," Armet said. "But I could arm a hundred men with my weapon in two days and make them effective. A hundred archers take months, even years to train."
"Then I will get myself a crossbow," she shrugged.
"A crossbow will not kill a fully plated Nilfgaardian horseman so easily," he said. "My weapon can. It can scare horses with the noise, and it can scare people."
She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Alright, you win."
Armet chuckled and rose. He opened a desk drawer and took out something wrapped in cloth. He laid it on the table, revealing a small pistol he had made. It was intricate, too delicate to mass produce. Patterns of flowers were carved into the handle. He also set down a pouch of black powder and another pouch of round bullets.
"Here, a small version," he said. "It probably will not kill a knight, but it is good enough." He pushed the pieces toward her. "You remember how to use it, right?"
"Armet…" she muttered. "You do not have to. I know this is expensive to make."
"Just take it," Armet sighed. "It was meant to be a gift for you anyway. Years ago."
"Really?" She raised her brow curiously. "Usually men give their women flowers."
"There are flowers on it, rowan blossoms, just how you like your flowers." Armet pointed at the carved handle. "Take it already. It annoys me to see it lying around."
Shani's expression softened. "Right. Alright, I'll take it with grace. Just remind me to bring it home later."
Armet sat again. A slight pause settled between them. Shani's gaze lingered on him, then she swallowed the rest of her wine in one go and sat opposite him. Armet only raised his brow, waiting.
"So…" she began quietly. "Have you had any… you know… relationships? After me?"
Armet chuckled and shook his head. "I was chasing a double diploma. Do you think I had time for that? Besides, my confidence in love kind of crumbled after you said all those things to me. I thought I was good to you. Apparently not."
"That was just an outburst." Shani's voice carried regret. "I didn't mean it. I only wanted to make you mad… to push you away."
"Well, you managed to do that," Armet hummed.
"Yeah… For the record, if anything, you're the opposite of all that nonsense I said." She slumped back in the chair. "Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if I'd kept quiet and just talked to you properly. How things would be different."
"Like I said, it would've gone nowhere still," Armet said. "We are too different."
"That's what I like about us. We're very different from one another." Shani's voice softened. "I've thought long about my life, Armet. All these years… what have I done except patch wounds, reattach limbs, sew cuts? So much gore, so much blood, it wears me down. I've managed alone so far, but in those lonely nights I wondered if things would be better with someone there. Someone to cheer me up, pour me a drink, make me laugh, make me forget for a while. Then I remembered… I actually had that once. And then I regretted everything."
A silence fell. Armet reached across the table, taking her hand gently. Her eyes glistened as she looked up.
"We can't change the past, Shani," he said. "Regret never leaves, but it isn't healthy to cling to it. What happened has happened. We should move forward. You always knew your calling… treating the sick and the wounded, so keep chasing it. Don't let what happened between us make you doubt that, that's the last thing I want."
Shani chuckled weakly, a sob escaping as she wiped her cheek. "You really are set on not starting over. Even after I've given you every hint. You know… that kind of hurts."
Armet sighed deeply, caressing her hand. "What for? I'm going away. Far from you. Like you said, we might not meet again. It'll only hurt more later."
"Surely you're not traveling in winter?" she asked.
"Well, no… but still, you know what I mean."
"Then we can spend the time we have left together," she murmured.
"Again, Shani…" he muttered. "It will only hurt more later. It's better if we don't see each other again after tonight."
She forced a small smile. "That's harsh… but you're right."
Armet stood, and Shani rose with him. He led her to the front door, not forgetting the pistol and its supplies. Taking her cloak from the hanger, he placed it gently around her shoulders before opening the door.
Her face was full of sadness as she looked at him. She smiled bitterly. "So… I guess this is farewell."
Armet nodded, his own smile faint and sorrowful.
"Still…" she muttered. "Can I… get a kiss? For old time's sake."
Armet chuckled. "You really do know what you want. And you work hard for it."
"That's not an answer," she whispered, almost daring him.
Armet's smile lingered only a moment before he leaned in. Their lips met softly at first, hesitant, but the years of distance and regret melted away in an instant. The kiss deepened quickly, their breaths mingling, hands pulling each other closer. Shani pressed herself against him, fingers digging into his back as if afraid to let go. Before she even realized, she dropped her own cloak that she was about to wear on the ground.
By the time they broke apart, both were breathless. Shani's eyes burned with want. "Armet… let's not stop here. One last time. No strings, no promises. Just tonight."
Armet hesitated. "Shani…"
She silenced him with another kiss, fiercer this time, pulling him back in. Between kisses she whispered, "Please. I need this. And I know you do too. After tonight, we walk away. But right now… I want you."
After a long pause, Armet gave in.
"Alright… just tonight."
—
The next morning, Armet was woken up by the sunlight passing through the window. He groaned awake and sat up from the bed. It was a mess from last night, and now that he thought about it, a trace of regret lingered. Still, closure mattered, for her and for him.
He looked around and saw Shani sitting at the desk, already dressed. She looked at him a little embarrassed, quill in hand over a piece of paper. When she noticed him wake, she stopped.
"Good morning," she said with a soft smile.
Armet returned the smile. "Morning. What are you doing?"
"This? Just a silly thing," she said, looking away. "I was planning to leave without waking you, but I thought I would write a letter first. I remembered you were a late riser, did not expect you up so soon."
"A letter?" Armet laughed. "Kind of dramatic, don't you think?"
"Well, you said one last time, and we would never see each other again." She muttered, crumpling the paper. "I didn't want to break the illusion the next morning. But it broke already, so to hell with it."
She sighed, brushing off the embarrassment, then turned back to him. "Did you know you have a lot more burn marks since I last saw you? Fifteen more, to be exact."
"I did not keep count," Armet chuckled.
"You take care, Armet. I do not want to hear that you died because of your experiments." She stood and picked up the pistol and its supplies from the table.
"You take care too," Armet said. "I do not want to hear you died because of some vagrant you tried to heal. I would tell you to stay away from the frontlines, but you would never listen to me on that."
She smiled, walked to him, and kissed his forehead. "If you need anything back in your hometown, you can always send me a letter. I will be there as soon as I can. I promise you that."
"No promises, remember?" Armet said.
"Right," she said, amused. "No promises. But still, my offer stands."
"Then I will offer the same to you," Armet hummed.
She chuckled and turned away. "Goodbye, Armet. I hope we will meet again someday. And I…" she paused, turned back with a thin smile, and said softly, "You know what I feel." Then she left, closing the door behind her.
As the sound faded, Armet sighed and looked down at the floor. These next few months would be his last winter here. After that, he would leave this old chapter behind and begin a new one.
—
[Oxenfurt, Late March 1271]
As the snow of winter melted into the ground and the warmth of spring returned, the Oxenfurt port grew lively once more. Porters shouted over one another, merchants haggled, and sailors hurried up and down the docks. In the middle of it all was Armet, walking with a carriage loaded with chests and crates trailing behind. He made his way to a small platform where a modest ship had been moored.
A man stood waiting there, rough-looking, tattoos running down both arms. He leaned lazily against a rope post with his arms crossed. When he spotted Armet, he straightened up and called out.
"Ye the scholar?"
"Yes," Armet answered. "Sorry for the heavy baggage, I couldn't leave everything behind."
"'Tis alright," the man waved it off. "Ye paid extra anyway. It's covered. We'll sail at noon, through the Pontar. We'll stop at one o' the fishin' villages near Vergen and drop ye off. Go ahead an' board, let me boys haul yer things up."
"Alright, thanks," Armet said with a nod.
He climbed aboard, leaning against the railing while his belongings were carried up the gangplank. He breathed deep, drawing in the sharp, dirty air of the port.
His eyes wandered over the city that had been his home for nearly a decade. A sigh escaped him. Leaving was harder than he had expected. Here lay safety and familiarity, yet the world beyond was shifting.
He knew what was coming, at least roughly of the timeline. It's been a while since he remembered the story of his past life, but he knew what was to come, even though he didn't know the details of what was on the ground. In this case, staying meant waiting for Radovid's hounds to sweep through, purging nonhumans, mages, and scholars alike.
Better to try to save his hometown from a siege rather than hide like a rat in Oxenfurt. He could vanish elsewhere, live quietly, but that path felt hollow. He wanted to make his mark on this world. How, he did not yet know, but he would seize every chance he found.
His gaze dropped to the worn planks of the deck. He waited in silence until the ship would carry him away toward his new beginning.