—
After a bit of intentional manipulation—mixing mock annoyance with a touch of naïveté to reinforce the image of a child forced to grow up too fast due to his circumstances and his gifts—Gustave then heard Coën make a remark that instantly made Lambert's face scrunch up, as if someone were trying to steal his contract.
"Good, good. In that case, I will also join the expedition with Lambert, of my own desire."
"Count me in, Coën. I want to see what happened to our second mentor, Jerome Moreau. Keldar has been searching for him for ages."
"Same, brother."
"In that case, let's go together."
Seeing the three Griffin Witchers decide to go to Toussaint at their own expense and not because of his contract, Gustave reassured Lambert, who now wore an ugly expression of regret for mentioning the Grandmaster Griffin set to Coën.
"Don't worry, Lambert. You will still get your coin. I hired you not just to look for something in Toussaint, but for many other tasks as well while you're there—like bringing the Megascope."
"Damn. It is good when the contractor is aristocratic like yours, buddy. A nice change of pace from the pitchfork-wielding peasants. So just tell me anything you need. I'm open for hire."
Nodding, Gustave replied, "Well, if you're truly open for hire, then tomorrow morning—and every morning after that—I want you to be my sparring partner."
"Hmm? What for? You've got your personal spies, you're fluent in arcana, and you've got a whole platoon of soldiers following you. Surely studying fencing with me won't make much difference."
"What this freak said is true, my Lord. And not only that, when it comes to teaching you combat, the Prince doesn't need to hire this monstrosity. We can do it ourselves."
Annoyed at being called a freak, Lambert glared daggers at Tobias, the chief guard, and spat on the ground in silence. If this guard weren't Gustave's own man, Lambert would already be throwing hands right now. But for the sake of the contract and the gold, he forced himself to endure it.
Coins were worth more than a moment of offended dignity. And dignity could always be reclaimed by force if the chance arose, just as it had been with many who ended up under his steel for treating him like shit when the pay didn't match the disrespect.
"Well, if you say you can, then teach me now, and I will be the judge of whether you can teach me or not."
Seeing the six-year-old child—who stood at the height of an eight-year-old—Lambert watched as the Prince and the racist guard moved into the open space of the kitchen.
After a few exchanged remarks like "Be careful, Prince" and similar warnings, Lambert couldn't help but nod, already knowing that with the smooth and dangling baby fat on the boy's body, Gustave had never done any exercise let alone doing combat routine that needed years to hone.
The boy was awkwardly trying to defend himself against incoming strikes using his glove-mounted magical device, which could transform into a shield. But suddenly not a minute later, Lambert suddenly looked at the Prince in puzzlement.
Like someone who had been directly injected with a Vial of Forbidden Knowledge that could turn a simpleton into an expert overnight, Lambert saw the boy's foot movements become more and more fluent.
What gave him chills and sent shivers across his body was that this footwork was becoming the very technique many of the Witchers present had settled into after decades or even hundreds of years of doing their trade.
His own habit of slightly rotating the ankle when dodging a sword coming from the side, Eskel's forceful whole-sole stomp on the ground when deflecting from the front, Coën's calculated pattern of steps completing a cycle of dodging and deflecting, Raven's habit of using the material of the boots he wore to exert low or high pressure depending on that material.
And many more, from Geralt's adaptable free-style footwork to Vesemir's textbook movements, who were currently downstairs with Ciri and outside helping a mason build the fortress wall respectively. Lambert saw different variations of habits put together, not just from Witchers but from anyone present in the vicinity.
To the point that after just thirty minutes it felt like watching another Arch-Grandmaster doing his trade and trying to teach him how to do footwork properly, making him suddenly feel depressed and ashamed, as if his years of experience meant nothing in front of Gustave.
If not for the still-clumsy way the boy attacked, like someone trying to imitate incomplete knowledge of shield-bearers with that patriotic style and many other shield-based techniques, Lambert would likely already have suspected the boy had learned footwork while still in his mother's belly.
Clang, clang.
"Huft, huft, huft, huft."
"So it seems, Tobias, you can't teach me. So step aside. Because I need a Witcher who has many different senses and a large amount of stamina to become my sparring partner. Maybe if you turned into one of them, you could teach me personally. But for now, these Witchers are the only ones capable of keeping up with my fast way of learning and adapting."
Seeing that the sky was already dark, Gustave decided to return to Twin Realms. Turning toward Lambert, he said, "So Lambert, don't forget every morning. As for the contract, just send a letter to me whenever you are ready to go to Toussaint."
Knowing that the depressed gazes around him would shift into jealousy and strain his relationship with the Witchers if he stayed, Gustave chose to leave. Better to keep an air of mystery than linger and worsen the atmosphere.
He understood the feeling well. When others were confronted with fast AI-like learning—more accurately AGI—it became depressing.
As if the whole point of being a living being was meaningless when someone, or something, could imitate their work in the blink of an eye, even though the problem could be solved easily if they upgraded their brains the way Yennefer had upgraded hers or used external tools like quantum computers.
Because he now understood that the difference between Artificial General Intelligence and Natural General Intelligence came down to efficiency of design and nothing more. And considering that nature's biological design follows the pattern of "good enough"—if it works, it doesn't need to improve—it was inevitable that the natural would lose to the artificial.
Although he could erase that depressed feeling by upgrading everyone's brain to local computational infinity using efficient quantum computing systems, just like his [Elder Blood – Neural Network], Gustave knew he would only release such technology or spells to the public once he was five to seven generations ahead.
For now, because the timing was not right, he simply let these people fall into despair while witnessing this world's version of AGI.
"Anyway, it is already late. Goodbye everyone, it is nice meeting you."
Seeing a boy who can handle an adult with a longer reach and still work around his own lower height disadvantage while dueling, Lambert suddenly feels that the extra work of becoming a sparring partner will not be as easy as he thought. Especially considering that the one becoming his partner is someone who is not yet old enough to piss straight.
So with depressed and conflicted feelings mixed together, Lambert simply nods to Prince Gustave and watches the boy leave the area as if what he just showed was nothing special.
—