The Wild Hunt

There are two different books with the title "The Wild Hunt":

First version
A least one copy of this book is found in the Royal Palace.

Journal entry

 * From farmers and herdsmen, milkmaids to midwives – all the common folk of the Continent whisper, sharing tales of a wraithly procession pounding across the sky. The Wild Hunt, they call it, Winds and gales, storms and blizzards arise when it is sighted, and all grows cold, though the sun shone bright moments before. Some remember only the cold from the shock of the encounter, and claim the Riders come always in winter. But nay, this is not so – the Hunt brings its own ice.


 * Death and war gallop in its wake, or so the superstition goes. Yet evil enough is the Hunt itself. It takes folk captive, youths, most often, in the prime of their wilding years, with ten to twenty summers behind them. The Hunt rushes in and they disappear, only to return long years later with no memory of what passed in the time between. (...)

Second version
A copy of this book can be purchased from the following merchants:
 * Merchant by the rugs in Hierarch Square

Journal entry

 * A frail ribbon flickers across the sky, the Riders' spectral silhouettes barely discernible within it. Then the cavalcade contorts closer and closer, revealing more and more of their ghastly form. Now the buffalo horns atop their helms penetrate one's view, now the crest betwixt them, and now the skull-like face exposed beneath their visors. The Riders sit astride skeletal mounts, bits of barding stuck to their sides like boils. A furious gale hows through the willows. Their blades now glisten like unfailing stars in the black sky. The wind howls louder and louder. No. That is no wind. That is ghoulsong. Suddenly the nightmarish cavalcade twists once more, the hooves of its ghostly mounts churning the light of will o' the wisps hanging above the bog.


 * At the head of the cavalcade rides the King of the Hunt. A rust-eaten bascinet sways above the skull-like mask. Gaping eye sockets burn with a pale blue fire. Around him whirls a tattered cloak. A necklace rattles atop his rust-covered breastplate. Holes empty as the abyss stare out from it – once they were filled with precious stones, but these fell out during his race across the skies and became stars. The King of the Hunt laughs, his teeth, rotten as the grave, snapping above the rusted collar of his bearstplate. The blue flames in the eye sockets of his skeletal mask roar.

This volume can be found in a chest in the ruined elven baths along with some other loot, or purchased. It provides Geralt with some information about the cavalcade of specters.

Journal entry

 * The Wild Hunt


 * According to the Nordlings, the Wild Hunt is a procession, or rather a cavalcade of skeletal horsemen. They rush across the sky on the bony remains of steeds. Clad in rusty remnants of armor, they wear jagged swords at their waists. Like comets, the Wild Hunt is an omen of war, which has been confirmed beyond all doubt.


 * The spectral cavalcade ventures out in search of victims every several years, but its harvest was never as rich as just before the last war with Nilfgaard, when over twenty souls went missing in Novigrad alone after the Hunt passed through. Curiously, elven and dwarven legends make not the slightest mention of the Wild Hunt.

Die Wilde Jagd (Buch) La Chasse Sauvage La Caccia Selvaggia Dziki Gon (księga)