System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 181
“Mousesack.”
The Witcher slid his longsword into the scabbard on his back and pulled off his iron gauntlets.
“Geralt.” The knight reined in ten feet away. “How long has it been since we last met? Strange place to run into you. We can reminisce later. First, the matter at hand, where is Ciri?”
The Witcher turned and glanced at the girl, still pretending to sleep. “Little lady, open your eyes and see who’s here. Off Roy, now.”
“Uncle Mousesack?”
The girl turned her head and stole a glance at the newcomer. The old man wore a mass of grizzled white beard falling to his chest. His eyes were deep-set, his face carved with sharp, chiseled wrinkles, giving him the air of a man weathered by long years, steady and wise.
A leopard skin hung over his shoulders. Beneath it he wore a dark red coat, and on his head a black cap adorned with three antlers. Slantwise across his back rested a yellow-brown staff bent like a tree root.
He was so broad and powerfully built that the gray horse beneath him looked almost small by comparison, enough to make a man wonder whether the poor beast might suddenly buckle under the weight.
At the sound of the little girl’s clear voice, he leapt down from the saddle and opened his arms.
A moment later, Mousesack was holding Ciri tight against his chest.
“Did Grandmother send you, Uncle? Was she worried about me?”
“Not worried...” Mousesack smiled, straightened the girl’s fluffy hair, then glanced at the young Witcher. “She’s busy soaking that precious belt of hers. Best prepare yourself, little princess, it’s going to hurt a great deal, and you’ll cry dreadfully.”
Ciri’s small face went white at once. By instinct she covered the part of herself that had suffered such torment before.
“Wait a moment...” Geralt cast a cautious look around. “This ground is no place for talk with corpses all around. Let’s deal with the bodies first.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Several slender, graceful figures emerged from behind a nearby tree.
“Braenn? You’ve been hiding there listening the whole time?”
“No...” The honey-haired Dryad shook her head. “We came to see what the disturbance was. These dead men, are they true scalp hunters?”
The Witcher nodded. “They slaughtered a merchant caravan and meant to lay the blame on your kin.”
“Then today we owe you one.” A smile touched Braenn’s face. “The bodies of hunters make fine fertilizer. My sisters and I will take care of them.”
With that, she tossed the Witcher a pouch.
“What’s this?”
“A specialty of Brokilon, symbiotic shoots of Krinhaerathen vine-root and purple comfrey. Useful in potion brewing. Payment for the corpses.”
“Wait...”
Roy looked at the Dryads with open pleading. “Before you haul the ‘fertilizer’ away, could you let me search them first? Those bastards have some shiny things on them. I doubt the forest has much use for those.”
A short while later, the young Witcher took his leave of the Dryads with a satisfied air and two hundred crowns in hand.
For the great work of restoring the School, every coin had to be cherished.
...
They continued east for a while longer. Dusk gathered around them, and the four of them, with one horse, made camp beside a fire.
“Calanthe has withdrawn her decision,” Mousesack said. “She no longer intends to marry Ciri to Kistrin.”
“The minds of rulers shift as the wind does. That makes the second time she’s broken off a betrothal for Ciri, doesn’t it?” Geralt said, not without irony. “King Ervyll of Verden sent his men to butcher merchants and pin it on the Dryads. Conduct like that is contemptible. Even if the queen had not changed her mind, I would never let that little darling, whom I’ve watched since childhood, marry the heir to Verden.”
“I’m taking her back to Cintra at once. Come with us, Geralt. This time, stop running.”
Geralt fell silent for a moment and turned his face away, refusing to meet Ciri’s hopeful little eyes.
Mousesack knew better than to press too hard, so he changed the subject first.
“The White Wolf, tell me honestly, this young man is not some apprentice you’ve taken on these past years? Another Child of Surprise?”
“I only wish he were my apprentice. Then everything would be simpler.” Geralt sighed. The Wolf School too was fading, old hands dying out with no fresh blood to replace them.
“My young friend, Geralt already told me. Ciri escaped Brokilon safely thanks to you. On behalf of Queen Calanthe, I thank you. Once we return to Cintra, Her Majesty will reward you handsomely.”
“No need for any reward.” Roy waved it off. The Water of Brokilon was reward enough, not to mention meeting Geralt and opening a path toward ties with the Wolf School.
He winked at the girl curled up on a carpet by the fire, dozing like a kitten.
“Ciri is my good friend. Does helping a good friend require payment?”
“Witchers usually work by written contract, coin for labor, all properly settled.”
“That applies to others. Have you ever seen Geralt demand payment from the great bard Dandelion?”
“Well then...” Mousesack said helplessly, “if there is anything else you want, speak it. I will do what I can.”
Roy inclined his head and looked at the old man, his gaze turning thoughtful.
Mousesack / Ermion
Age: 178
Gender: Male
Identity: Druid, Mentor of the Druid Circle
HP: 200
Mana:?
Attributes:
Strength: 10
Agility: 11
Constitution: 20
Perception: 13
Willpower: 10
Charisma: 16
Spirit:?
Skills:
Wild Shape LV8: After long-term observation and deep understanding of certain wild animals, their physiology and habits, a druid can transform into one of them.
Breath of All Things LV10: Through extraordinary Perception, the druid communicates with flora and fauna on a mental level, calming restless beasts and plants, or guiding them to attack.
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.