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Tw3 alexanders specter.jpg
Alexander's specter
Mage, epidemiologist
Northern Realms
Fyke Isle

The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt (only as a specter)

The mage Alexander was a famous epidemiologist who studied diseases, including the Catriona plague, in Velen on Fyke Island. He did not limit himself with moral qualms and conducted deadly experiments on humans. During an attack organised by disgruntled peasants on the isle, he gave a sleeping potion to the lord's daughter Anabelle to save her. However, this led to terrible consequences: the girl was eaten alive by rats he had kept in the tower. Alexander was a friend of Keira Metz. He was killed during the peasants' assault on the tower.

- A mage lived on the island? Did you know him? Where is he now?
- We were friends. Sadly, he died that day as well. Very few survived.
~ Geralt and Keira Metz about Alexander, The Witcher 3
Alexander was a highly regarded epidemiologist. I would have given anything for an opportunity to study his notes, but he guarded them jealously.
~ Keira Metz, The Witcher 3

Associated quests[]

Alexander's notes[]

Day 237
My experiments continue to return results I must consider unreliable. Methodological errors are not at fault. The problem lies in the shoddy and fallible research material I am forced to work with. Despite his prior assurance, Vserad is unable to provide me with enough moderately healthy specimens for my tests. Most of the material is starved and terrified. having been dragged here straight from the dungeon. I wast a great deal of time daily washing and delousing them before I will so much as let them step foot into my laboratory. Sterility first.
As Marti Sodergren managed to prove in her little-known work, the attitude of a patient undergoing treatment can have a significant impact on the battle against the disease. Unfortunately the volunteers with which I am supplied do not show sufficient comprehension – let alone enthusiasm – for the noble work in which they are taking part. In fact, it seems they consider the research part of their punishment. I have tried a few times (though I am but a poor speaker) to convince them that they are contributing to the eradication of one of the greatest plagues tormenting mankind. I had the distinct impression they understood little, but perhaps their stupor was merely a result of the early stages of the illness.
Of course, it is impossible to achieve success without significant sacrifices. The overwhelming majority of them will have to lay down their trifling lives on the altar of learning. But that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.
Day 346
I never did like rats. Not because of their obscene tails, but rather on account of their lively distrubing intelligence. They are always listening when a man believes he is talking only to himself. And, what's worse, they seem to understand.
A few days ago, I caught myself talking to one of them – a particularly large, black male with a torn-off ear. At first I was overcome by panic. Was this a first manifestation of the illness? Of course, that was impossible, for I had fortified my immunity with powerful spells. Upon further consideration, I concluded it was an altogether natural reflex, one even the most learned among us find hard to restrain. We mages like to be listened to.
I placed the black rat in a separate cage. The time will come for it to play a parat in the test. Meanwhile, it can "keep me company." And observe. I've noticed it looks with great concentration at the cages of its infected brethren, particularly those cages in the last stages of illness. Fascinating.
Speaking of company – I have none, besides the black rat, and cannot hope for better. Vserad avoids the laboratory and has expressed his desire for his daughter to steer clear of me as well. At first I thought he feared a moral scandal – which would be risible in the extreme – but he explained the true reason in due course. It seems Annabelle has always possessed a fragile psychic constitution. Observing the ill might throw her into foul humors.
The peasants taking part in the study have stopped speaking to me. I don't know what they believe this litte act of defiance will serve. It does me no harm – they made for lousy conversation partners. There remains, of coruse, The Woman, but as for her, I try to limit my contact.
Day 362
My black rat has died – today I found him curled up in his cage. I suspected he had become infected on accident, but during the autopsy I did not uncover any signs of illness. He was also prefectly well-fed. Strange. From a medical point of view his death remains unexplained, something which, I must admit, irritates the scholar in me. But, as mentioned previously, I'm not particularly fond of rats.