—
So while Cerys and Ciri chatted with the Flaminika druids, Gustave's mind was focused entirely on the abnormally large bear—or, more specifically, on the Nature Magic flowing through it, seeping into every muscle, every cell, and even into the creature's very spirit.
Unlike sorcerers, who divided magic into separate branches of Elements, Nature Magic—the kind druids wielded—encompassed every element known and unknown to man. It was like the difference between theoretical science and applied science: one sought to unravel the fabric of the universe, while the other was grounded in its practical impact on society.
But it wasn't quite like that. While science ultimately serves the good of civilization as a whole, magic could be pure extremism—either advancing individuals or advancing society as a whole, with no middle ground.
In other words, while sorcerers separate magic into branches of Elements for their own convenience and understanding, druids approach magic in its more natural form, using it to enhance and harmonize with the existing world of nature.
In other words, what they excelled at was not manipulating and commanding magic for personal gain, but enhancing the already existing forces of nature.
That's why, in both the games and the novels, Gustave rarely saw druids performing pure, raw displays of power. It wasn't that they were incapable; rather, their magic was intrinsically tied to the surrounding nature.
This reliance on nature created the stigma that they were weaker than their sorcerer counterparts, because they had to wait and consider the consequences for the ecosystem as a whole—the very source of their magic.
But to him, with his modern scientific knowledge, druidic magic was just as powerful as sorcerer magic in terms of raw firepower. Perhaps even more so, because, like the distinction between theoretical and applied science—with the latter having a more visible impact on society—druid magic was tied directly to the environment, amplifying its effect.
In other words, if a sorcerer's Fire Elemental magic could, with a modern understanding of natural science, eventually lead to the creation of a laser, then druidic magic could, in principle, generate natural catastrophes—or even cosmic-scale disasters, such as radiation storms.
As for why he believed druidic magic could produce cosmic catastrophes, it was because the earliest practitioners of Nature Magic—essentially elves who "loved" their greenery—were likely responsible for the cosmic-scale disasters themselves, known as the White Frost.
These first practitioners, whose experiments eventually triggered apocalyptic events later known as the Tedd Deireadh—freezing one planet after another—had likely pushed the boundaries of Elder Blood research without regulation through their Nature Magic.
Just as on his Earth, where the uncontrolled application of E=mc²—via the atomic bomb—could have sent civilization back to the Stone Age, Gustave guessed that generations of research and discoveries tied to Elder Blood had created a cascading effect similar to E=mc² on Earth.
But on a far, far larger scale, because at its core, magic is an unpredictable force of nature, no matter how skilled the practitioner wielding it.
That's why, to him, whether druidic magic or sorcerer magic was the most powerful was merely a matter of perspective.
An arcane spell might make a concentrated impact on a single purpose, while an ecosphere rite could affect a wide range of areas, encompassing every aspect of nature. It all comes down to the timing, intention, and reason for using it, because both have their own unique applications.
Observing the Flaminikas, who could understand the language of the bears, and noting that the bears themselves displayed a kind of awareness not present in wild animals, Gustave couldn't help but rub his chin in contemplation, tinged with a bit of excitement. The reason for this excitement was that he might be able to start his CCTV project immediately.
If these Flaminikas had ties to the Crow Clan druids from TRPG The Witcher: A Tome of Chaos, who specialized in mastering crows as messengers, or if they could even breed poultry with intelligence comparable to these bears, then he wouldn't need long and arduous research into golems or creating mechanical birds.
He would only need to place the instruments on the birds, and they would become his eyes and ears. Although he would still need to build the CCTV instruments to record video, it was far less complicated than building mechanical birds from scratch.
Mechanical birds would otherwise require assembling aviation systems, inertial stability systems, navigation systems, communication systems, structural integrity frameworks, propulsion rotors to generate lift, and countless other components. All of that would have been overwhelming within a mere seven-year timeframe.
Not only that, he knew, with certainty, that his inventions would likely not be advanced enough to withstand the weapons of the Witcher era, if he remained too fixated on creating them from the ground up.
Even though this was a medieval society with backward weapons like swords and axes, their mages were not. That meant that even if they could not immediately counter his modern scientific knowledge, they would eventually be able to, since they had the mages capable of researching and devising counters.
Just from observing Cintra—a city that would later host these bears, spellweavers, beastmasters, and artificers, yet still fail to stop the Nilfgaardian invasion—he realized that Gweison Haul, the Aretuza equivalent for commoners, and the Imperial Magic Academy, the Aretuza version for nobility, possessed magic practitioners far superior to any of Cintra's own.
Especially when looking at the Nilfgaardian factions in the Gwent game cards, he could see they had a more sophisticated framework of mysticism, reflecting how advanced their society truly was.
This was exemplified by the Imperial Diviner card, which could divine the optimal course of action in war, making conflict with the Black Clads extremely difficult to win.
Mage Assassins and Infiltrators—sorcerers trained from a young age to serve purely as tools for the empire, with no regard for their dignity as unique, individual beings, as was the case in the North.
Menagerie Keepers with their Hunting Packs, whom he assumed were the Nilfgaardian equivalent of Beastmasters but focused more on enslaving animals, breeding wild, savage creatures with Nature Magic only to send them to die on the battlefield.
Toxicologists, who studied and weaponized a variety of toxins and poisonous fumes, turning them into deadly tools against ordinary soldiers in combat.
Contaminators, interpretable as Alexanders but on an organizational scale—a whole network of epidemic mages—connected to other units, such as the Rot Tosser.
Blightmakers, senior wizards from these two professions, who could not only produce epidemics and diseases but also wield the destructive firepower typical of Northern mages.
Mage Torturers, who specialized in mentally breaking captured individuals to extract every secret—similar to Cintran enchantresses, but far more cruel and direct.
Masters of Puppets, who, unlike Mage Torturers, focused on manipulating the minds of soldiers on the battlefield, turning enemy troops against themselves.
Imperial Practitioners, mages devoted to studying the inner workings of magical anatomy—similar to Azar Javed, but functioning as an entire organization—so they could perform certain forms of mutation on someone or something.
Imperial Golems, or more accurately golem-summoners as inferred from the card, were constructs that essentially served as Nilfgaard's version of Attack on Titan–style weaponized soldiers.
And finally, the seemingly most harmless of the Nilfgaardian mystical practitioners were the Illusionists, whom he guessed were led by Artorious Vigo, Syanna's uncle from Toussaint.
Even then, this list did not include the Viper Witchers, who were currently being brainwashed by propaganda delusions about restoring their order's glory.
Nor did it include classic sorcerers—though not quite as brilliant as the mages of the North, those from the Imperial Magic Academy were still exceptionally talented individuals.
In the worst-case scenario, it could even include Higher Vampires from the Van Moorlehem family, tied to the Nilfgaardian aristocracy, who might join simply for amusement.
If not for Cintra—which had essentially become a meat grinder for the full-powered Nilfgaard, sacrificing every member of the House of Raven who possessed magical potential to briefly activate Elder Blood, witnessing their family members and countrymen die in a final blazing ember—there would have been no weakened Black Clads.
There would have been no Battle of Sodden, which Triss considered the "most terrible" battle for the Nordling mages. There would have been no unchecked arrogance from Vilgefortz, seeing himself as the most powerful and destined to take over the world. Moreover, there would have been no catalyst for why Ciri would be hunted to the ends of the world for her Elder Blood.
That's why it was high time for him not to think too far ahead about building machinery from scratch, but instead to create something akin to RDBM using already existing parts, because he knew he only had seven years to bolster Cintra until it could repel the full-powered Nilfgaard.
Full-powered Nilfgaard possessed titan golems, mutagenic alchemy, mind control, assassins, epidemics, poisons, and countless other unimaginable horrors—many of which he might not even be able to conceive, because the tiniest fragments of information had slipped through the cracks of his [Knowledge].
That's why, from the moment he had been awakened by the mages who wanted to manipulate him back in Lyria, he had emphasized the strength of civilization rather than the strength of individuals—at least for now.
He knew that a powerful enemy like Vilgefortz could be cleanly solved with a bullet to the head from two to three miles away, but a powerful opposing society—no matter who was in charge—would continue to function perfectly.
If he failed to address that, he could kiss goodbye to his relatively quiet life and would be hunted down just like the original Ciri, forced to flee from one place to the next, living like a tramp without a single coin to his name. In the worst case, he might even be caught and tortured, facing his own version of Leo Bonhart.
Suffocating as he reread The Tower of Swallow and The Lady of the Lake using his [Recall] ability, Gustave let out an anxious breath just as the protagonist girl asked him what was going on.
"Little guy, what's happening?! Don't always scowl like old people! Here! Smile!"
Forcing him to smile by physically lifting his lips, Gustave swatted Ciri's hands aside and said, "Gustave is sorry, Princess Ciri. But Gustave is not in the mood right now."
Tilting her head, Ciri asked, "Huh? Why, Little Guy? Did you catch a cold or something?"
Wanting to use this conversation as a way to approach the topic of the eggs of the crows the Flaminikas raised, if they had any, Gustave answered, "No, Princess Ciri. Gustave did not catch a cold. Gustave is only sad that he cannot see Mother again. Gustave wants to send Mother a letter, but through Uncle Odo it is too slow waiting for a reply."
Seeing one of the druids shift, he knew he had succeeded in planting the idea in the Flaminikas' minds, so that later, when he got close to them, he could ask for a magically nurtured crow's egg—or any bird they cultivated—without being seen as wanting to weaponize the birds.
Just waiting for this seed to bloom in the near future, bringing him one step closer to his CCTV project, he began to complain to Ciri, as a toddler might, while burying this suggestive idea within their small conversation.
"There, there, don't worry! Living far away, just like when I was in Skellige, means letters take a long time to arrive. But I will ask Grandmama later if there's a way to make it faster, so you can talk with your mother constantly! Deal?!"
"Deal, Older Sister Ciri."
"Hiaaah!!! Say that again, say that again!"
"Older Sister Ciri?"
"Hiaaaah!!! I have a little brother of my own! Say it again!"
"What about me?! What about me?! I also want to!"
"Old Cerys?"
"Muahahahahaha! Cerys, you are being called old!"
"It is not fair!"
On and on, he joked with the children, and the Flaminikas began to see him in a new light, laughing at the kids' antics.
This secured him the initial stage of friendship with the druids, which made him realize that even though being a toddler came with many drawbacks, making connections was surprisingly easy—he only had to act cute and smile, and in an instant he could become friends with them, without lifting a finger to build tedious trust beforehand.
After thirty minutes of walking and chatting under the moonlight of late Velen, he and the rest of the pack finally arrived at the mouth of the gigantic cavern.
Seeing many bears moving around harmoniously, as if they had their own animal society with scrambled fences made from destroyed wood and well-trodden pathways, he was once again amazed. He realized he was witnessing early signs of intelligence in these wild animals, thanks to the druids.
If that intelligence were measured, they would likely possess 20–40% of a Rock Troll's intelligence—a remarkable evolution, or even a miracle, compared to the domesticated cats and dogs on his Earth, which would still require millions of years to evolve into intelligent species.
But he also knew that pushing an animal's intelligence to the level of a Rock Troll was a monumental endeavor. If it were that easy, the druids of Skellige—after one and a half thousand years of human history—would have already raised their fluffy companions to the point where they could talk.
Still, being able to witness the early signs of a species evolving into an intelligent race—like seeing his own Homo erectus ancestors becoming Homo sapiens for the first time—Gustave couldn't help but sigh in amazement, followed shortly after by a quiet giggle as he imagined the envious looks on the scientists' faces back on Earth.
"What?! What happened to Little Gustave?! Why are you smiling?! No! It's the end of the world! Little Guy is laughing! Madam Bretr, Cersy, help! This is the end of the world!"
Eyebrows twitching, and feeling an urge to smack this little she-devil on the head, Gustave took a deep breath to steady himself before he blew his cover. Regretting, once again, that he had made such a good first impression on this girl, he patched up his blunder by looking fondly at the bear cubs and the rest of the bears as a whole.
"The bears are living harmoniously. Just like Gustave's mother, Gustave's father, and Gustave's brothers last winter. Madam Bertr… can humans live like them too? Without killing each other?"
Stunned by the depth of the question, and finally witnessing the truth behind the rumors about Queen Calanthe's cousin's youngest son—said to have a brilliant mind at such a young age—Madam Bertr paused.
She wanted to answer the way adults usually answered toddlers, lightly and without thought, but she stopped herself. Because her answer might become something significant in shaping this young child's developing mindset—a mindset that, if unguided, might grow like the rest of the Nordlings', lacking even an ounce of respect for Mother Nature.
So, choosing her words with care, Bertr replied, "We could, little Gustave. Aye… we humans could."
Arriving at the center of the cavern, she dismounted from Osr's back and handed the other mainlander child to one of her sisters. Then she lifted the three-year-old prodigy into her arms. Overlooking her companions' bear pack as a whole with the child in her hold, she continued:
"Just as their kin before us, so too could we live in harmony. Look well, little one—see how the mother leads her cubs not with fear, but with the quiet weight of her presence. The young follow her because they trust her warmth, her steady wisdom, the guidance that will shape them into fine, exceptional bears of the isles."
"And look to the males there on the edges—silent as standing stones. They guard the family with calm vigilance, their strength resting like a held tide until the moment it's called upon. And when their watch is done, they tumble with the little ones, teaching them the ways of growing into the great, majestic bears of the isles."
"So it is with us as well, child. If wild animals can live in such balance—each creature knowing its place, each duty carried with quiet devotion—then surely we, blessed with thought and voice and spirit, may choose a path of harmony too."
Cradling Gustave close and lifting her voice for all the children, she went on, "For as the bears thrive by trust, guidance, and shared strength, so too may humankind prosper—should we walk together with gentleness, companionship, and unity."
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