Even after she finishes speaking, Geralt is quiet. He was lucky. He knows that's a strange thing to think, to those who have suffered less. But he had Vesemir growing up, even when everyone else turned their back. As complicated as the old man is, he'd...tried. He'd kept them safe. Taught them what they needed. Not everyone can say the same, that they at least had a place to call home, no matter how steeped in blood it is.

"My mother never looked for me again. Never came to see if I lived through the Trials. She left me there, knowing I might not survive."

Destiny. That unshakable faith. He doesn't disbelieve it quite the same way anymore. But it doesn't change what Visenna did. Or didn't do.

"You're right," he says finally. "It's hard to have faith in others. But you can at least find it in your hands first, how to fend for yourself." A hint of wryness edges in. "Swords are a good step. Trust me, I know."