I must confess, after following in Berengar's footsteps across most of Temeria, I wasn't sure what to expect when I finally met him in the crypt at lakeside. I had questions for that rogue, troubling questions. Questions that needed answering. Alas, I didn't get a chance to speak with him long, as we were waylaid by bruxae and wraiths. After we'd finished fighting them off, Berengar was quick to point out the flaws in my pirouette. The man was all business, yet somehow he managed to skirt my questions. He seemed bitter, nearly unpleasant, and yet for some reason I didn't dislike him. Not yet.
Berengar seemed to know things about Salamandra. Things he shouldn't know. I had a nagging feeling I couldn't trust him completely, as he told me how the Salamandra had captured him briefly. We sat by a fire, warm, and brightly flickering.
Days passed. Berengar was always in the back of my mind, but I was busy with other things. We ran into each other again. He seemed to be struggling with something, wanting to tell me more. He confessed his disillusionment with Witchers, and his own struggles, and admitted he collaborated with Salamandra willingly during his captivity. Berengar said he wished to be a normal human. Start a family perhaps, lead a peaceful life. I grew uneasy.
I empathized with Berengar. Being a witcher weighs on all of our shoulders. There were and still are days when I look back and wish for the same things as him. Maybe settle down on a little plot of land with Shani, have a couple kids and a cow. You know, a mundane but satisfying life. So I understood how Berengar felt. I left him there, by his little campfire. He poked at the coals with a stick, deep in thought, as I walked away. Had Berengar betrayed Kaer Morhen, I wondered. Is that what is bugging him?
Another night fell, another day.
The sun was setting as I stepped off my raft, and on to the Lady's island. I had a matter of business I needed to discuss with the Lady of the Lake.
Berengar? Why was he here? Had he followed me? No, he was already here - he must have known I was coming.
The moment I saw him, I knew he was finally going to tell me. He had a haunted, guilty look in his eyes, and yet he carried himself in his usual rigid, bitter way. No, there was something more, a grim determination.
My fears were true. Triss and Vesimer's suspicions were right, it was Berengar who had betrayed us!
Why was he telling me these things? It was as if he wanted my judgement, wanted me to look at him, to tell him I despised him. Yes, he wanted to face my anger, wished to face my wrath.
And yet, I wasn't angry. Disappointed and sad, and deeply troubled, yes, but not angry. In fact, I almost pitied him in that moment, knowing that my reaction was far short of what he wanted.
Pink and golden light reflected on the glassy waters.
"I don't intend to judge you," I said. "Does that mean you understand?" Berengar asked, as his face fell, "You don't condemn me?" "I can't condone your choices," I replied, "But I guess I understand."
Berengar seemed shocked. I guess he had expected me to pronounce judgement on him, the steel judgement us Witchers are all to familiar with. But there was nothing in me that could bring me to slay Berengar for what he had done. Certainly, his choices had led to Leo's death, and harmed the order of Witcher's irreversibly, but he couldn't have known that those things would occur, and in the heat of the moment I cannot blame him for his actions. Who is to say I wouldn't have done the same?
Berengar left in a hurry, leaving a few of his items. "We'll meet again White Wolf," he called back to me, as he walked away down the beach.
And we did.
Azar Javed's laboratory. Darkness incarnate. A place I knew full well I would likely not leave.
How did Berengar know to come at that moment? I'll never know.
He lunges forward, his blade raised. Javed growls in rage. A blinding blaze.
Arcane conflagration. Javed's flaming hammers, a deadly blur. A guttural scream, Berengar's?. The smell of blood and singed flesh. My own?
I stand back to my feet, feel my blade meet flesh. A pirouette, with a slight adjustment. Thanks Berengar, your swordplay was always a joy to watch. Javed cries out in pain. The hammers swing, more wildly this time. Another roaring blast. I am on my back again. Blurry images. Berengar on one knee, struggling to stand up. Powerful blows from Javed. Bones crack, flesh sizzles. Another scream from Berengar.
Lunging forward. Aard. A ringing blast of air. Javed's mass slamming an the ground.
Cold steel whistling through the air. My own. Javed is no more.
A pile of broken bones and charred flesh coughs. Berengar. Why did you come back? But it is too late. Not even White Raffard's will help him now.
Thank you, Berengar.
Rest in peace, Berengar.