System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 163
“Why’s this kid so set on going to the palace? Don’t tell me he’s figured out our little secret operation.” Kael watched Roy’s retreating back. “If he goes in there and sells us out to that old bitch Calanthe...”
“Kael, stop making everything so damn sinister in your head.” Orin cut off his brother’s speculation without ceremony. “That suspicious, twitchy temper of yours is exactly why women steer clear of you. Besides, our operation had already ended before he ever came to Cintra.”
“Roy’s one of us now. Show him a little trust.”
“That’s enough.” Letho lowered his voice. “If there really had been a leak in your earlier operation, soldiers would already be here surrounding the place. They wouldn’t be sending people to look for this kid.”
“As for the reason, my guess is some kind of contract. Nobles, royals, those stuck-up peacocks like pretty faces. A kid like him is exactly their sort.”
“Now let’s discuss the more urgent matter.” Letho turned his gaze toward the room, where the frail girl still lay motionless on the sofa. “This child may be one of the Wild Hunt’s targets. Only may be, but even so, what do we do with her?”
“Why not...” Kael lifted his hand like a blade and drew it across his throat. “Even if it’s only a possibility, we cannot let the Wild Hunt have her.”
“Oh, enough of that.” Orin planted his hands on his hips and glared. “Threatening to kill some poor little girl, you really think you’re some mutated assassin with no shred of humanity?”
“Then give us a better idea.”
“Send her to Aretuza. Hand her over to the sorceresses there.” Orin spoke with conviction. “A School of Magic isn’t like our decayed Gvaed. If the Wild Hunt dares lay siege to Aretuza, they probably won’t make it three steps into the academy before those fully armed sorceresses blast them into scraps with a storm of magic.”
“Good idea.” Kael’s eyes lit up. “Let the curs tear at each other. We can stand aside and watch the show.”
“Yes, but first we need to ask what she wants.” Letho’s sharp eyes shifted to the figure on the sofa. Her shoulders were trembling in the slightest of arcs. “Silma, I know you’re awake...”
The three Witchers advanced on the girl like beasts. She felt that dreadful presence bearing down on her; her breathing quickened, her body curled tighter, and even the thick lashes over her shut eyes began to tremble.
“Don’t be afraid. We won’t hurt you.” Letho stopped in front of her. “Do you remember what happened to you before?”
“I doubt it was the first time. Maybe you’ve lost count yourself. People despising your birth, mocking your face, beating your body without restraint. How long have you lived in that misery?”
The girl suddenly held her breath.
In a voice thick with temptation, the Witcher said, “If you had a chance to change yourself completely, to turn from an ugly duckling into a swan, to have beauty others would envy, and the power to punish, to avenge yourself on those vile wretches, would you take it?”
“Are you devils? Do you mean to take my soul?”
Silma slowly opened her eyes. There was fear in them, and a deeply buried hunger.
“I ... what would I have to give?”
...
Under a flawless sky, the dazzling sun plated the great castle in gold.
Roy stood before the main gate of Cintra’s royal palace and drew a deep breath, steadying the restless stir in his chest, then walked toward the soldiers standing guard with long halberds.
“So you’re the one Her Majesty summoned?” The soldier looked him over from head to toe through the slit of his helm, his gaze passing over the somewhat youthful face, the dark-gold pupils, the straight-backed frame. “Roy, Witcher of the Viper School. Far too young, if you ask me. Wasn’t it said your kind all carry swords? Where’s yours?”
“You can bring weapons into the palace?”
The guard searched him again from top to bottom. Once he was certain Roy had concealed nothing dangerous, he allowed him through, with four soldiers escorting him onward.
The castle gates stood a full twenty feet high. Two soldiers strained to push them open. Beyond lay the castle hall, vast enough to make a man uneasy.
A luxurious red carpet ran down the middle of the corridor. The Witcher followed the soldiers at a pace slow enough to kill a man from sheer irritation.
On either side, the gray walls were hung with expensive oil paintings and trophies, deer, tiger, crocodile, stuffed and mounted. Near the walls stood enormous vases and armor displays. The windows, nearly high enough to touch the ceiling, were painted with pale, elegant, restrained patterns.
And there were doors. Wooden doors set all along the walls, too many of them, enough to make one’s scalp prickle, leading who knew where. From time to time servants carrying costly vessels and finely dressed nobles passed in and out.
The whole castle was like a maze. Anyone without a guide would lose himself easily.
Roy followed the soldiers, turning corner after corner until the twists began to fray his temper. After some time, they passed through a doorway and his view suddenly opened wide. They had emerged from the slightly claustrophobic interior into the open-air garden at the heart of the castle.
“Might one of you gentlemen tell me why Her Majesty the Queen has summoned me?”
The soldiers did not answer. They did not even turn their heads, their expressions grave and formal. Roy saw the look and let it pass.
He followed them to an open space in the center of the garden.
Amid flowerbeds crowded with blazing blooms of every hue, a middle-aged man approached, a slender thrusting sword at his hip, two carefully groomed mustaches on his lip, hair slicked neatly back.
“Witcher, you have kept me waiting. I am Henrik, Court Swordsman of the Royal Palace of Cintra. By order of Queen Calanthe, I am to cross swords with you and judge your skill.”
His gaze was sharp as a hawk’s and tinged with hostility. His voice carried resentment, as if the Witcher had insulted him personally.
“Sir, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Roy was thoroughly bewildered. He still did not know why he had been called to the palace, let alone why this man bore him such unearned malice.
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.