System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 185
“Mordun of the Griffin School? Never heard of him.” The Kael brothers narrowed their eyes at a marked map. “You’re certain he left the school’s schematics in a hidden chapel in Toussaint?”
“Roy, this isn’t some prank, is it? Luring us out into the wilderness?”
“Trust me. Griffin Mordun was real, and the diagrams are real too.”
“And what about Kolgrim, kid?” Bald Letho studied another marked map, equally full of doubt. “Years ago, Master Ivar Evil-Eye sent him to search for the Viper School’s lost schematics. Then the man vanished without a trace and contact with the school was lost. He’s never come back. Your ability ... lets you see that he died in Temeria ... in White Orchard?”
“I’m not completely certain.” Roy answered honestly. “With Kolgrim, it may already have happened, or it may still lie in the future ... But there’s no harm in looking. If we can find even the slightest clue about that master and bring back one old member to the school, that would count as an unexpected blessing.”
White Orchard, the place where Roy’s dream had begun, was somewhere he had long wanted to see with his own eyes.
“If you find the school schematics by following the maps, you’ll believe me then, won’t you, and go with me to Novigrad?”
The three burly men nodded, then tucked the maps against their chests as if they were treasure.
“The road to White Orchard in Temeria isn’t too far, but a round trip to Toussaint will take over a month,” Letho said in a deep voice. “No time to waste...”
“Hold on, Boss Letho. Couldn’t we leave in a few days instead?”
“Give me a reason.”
With the others staring at him in surprise, Orin rubbed his hands together.
“You lot really are a bunch of old fossils. Three days from now is August first, the Harvest Festival. Even condemned men get a final meal before the axe falls, so Witchers have the right to enjoy the Harvest Festival too.”
“Before doing something big, a proper bit of relaxation helps sharpen the mind.”
Roy understood at once.
The Harvest Festival, one of the eight oldest traditional holidays, marked the beginning of the harvest season and midsummer, the time of autumn’s first yield and of preparing for the colder months ahead.
On that day, people ate food cooked from the year’s first harvest, then took to the streets, dancing around bonfires in celebration.
“Watch your tongue. Final meal before the axe, could you not say something less cursed?” Kael smacked the back of his brother’s head, but his expression softened. “I haven’t had the Harvest Festival’s first meal in years myself.”
Witcher was an exceedingly dangerous class. Death could come at any time, so they understood better than most ordinary folk how to seize whatever joy the moment offered.
Even Letho, dour as he was, silently accepted Orin’s suggestion.
“The Harvest Festival is far grander than the summer solstice. Kid, you ought to see it.”
No one objected. There was a restless spark in all their eyes.
“Good. Looks like we have a consensus. As a veteran who has attended thirty-two Harvest Festivals...” Orin suddenly cast a sharply critical eye over the clothing of his three companions. “I’ll give all of you advice on how to dress. Listen to me. Clean yourselves up properly. Even Witchers can win women over.”
“I’m sitting this one out.” Roy refused at once. He needed time to tame the young Griffin.
“I seem to recall you promised you wouldn’t miss anything the Viper School did. And already you want to back out and leave the line?” Orin winked at the other two, and three gazes turned toward Roy. “Roy, are you shy? At your age, boys of fourteen or fifteen in the Aedirnian countryside are already fathers. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt pent up. It’s time you learned how to deal with your own desires.”
Orin pressed on with temptation. “If you feel awkward, then I won’t meddle with what you wear. With your face, even dressed in a leather jerkin covered in Monster fur, blood, and stench, you’d still have drunk women swooning over you.”
Roy quietly edged back to the doorway. Why did it feel like three old bounty hunters were trying to...
...
“Can’t sink to their level. Once there’s a first time, there’ll be a second. Restrain yourself ... restrain yourself.” Roy shook his head and drove off the thoughts. The devil hidden in his heart was known only to him.
At times, too much energy was itself a side effect of the Witcher mutations.
And when there were no Monsters to kill, that restless energy with nowhere to go became a torment.
But some bad habits really were best never touched.
He went round behind the stables and stroked the brown horse’s neck. “Vyrt, good lad, sorry I’ve neglected you lately. For the Harvest Festival, it’ll just be the two of us bachelors together.”
The brown horse listened to its master’s words, tossed its head, snorted, then strolled behind a mare, bared a row of gleaming white teeth, and suddenly reared up with its forelegs, boldly mounting the mare’s hindquarters.
“Hrrf ... phff ... hrrf ... phff...”
Heavy breathing and sharp animal scent mingled in the air.
“This isn’t real.” Roy’s face stiffened. “Even a shaggy brute like you dares mock me?”
“Stop.”
“Hrrr—” Vyrt was frozen in place by force and let out a mournful cry at his heartless master.
“Will you dare mock your master again next time?”
“Hr ... rr...” The horse’s great head gave a slight shake, and in its dark eyes there was grievance and remorse enough to bring tears.
“Forget it, you worthless beast. Get on with it.” Roy laughed and cursed, though there was a trace of reluctance on his face. To tame the young Griffin, he would have to give up his current Mount first.
“Vyrt, even if there’s no one left to talk to you, stay lively. Keep on being this happy.”
Smack.
A hand corded with veins slapped the brown horse on the rump.
Dismiss Mount?
Yes.
In that instant, the mental bond between the Witcher and Vyrt was severed completely.
Roy closed his eyes and tried to feel again, but he could no longer hear the brown horse’s thoughts...
It felt as though something had been scooped out of his chest, leaving it hollow.
Vyrt, however, noticed nothing at all. It kept right on plowing away with its mare.
For the beast, even if the bond was broken, the understanding they had built before remained.
It still recognized Roy as its master.
...
The boy made his way out into the street.
On the eve of the Harvest Festival, the city of Cintra had already begun to fill with holiday cheer. In the warm morning light, most passersby wore bright expressions and greeted their fellow townsfolk with easy warmth.
Shy young men and women lurked at street corners, glancing around in search of a dance partner for the festival. Families walked arm in arm down the road, leaving peals of laughter in their wake.
Banners had been hung between the buildings on both sides of the street, bearing festival blessings written in several languages. Soldiers led craftsmen in measuring the roads and setting up wooden barriers in preparation for the coming parade. Along the way, peddlers were already hawking festival garments, liquor, fireworks, and firecrackers.
Everyone was immersed in the atmosphere of the celebration to come.
Roy, however, walked straight to the tent in the center of the market.
“Master, you haven’t come to see the Griffin in days.” Galar, in a brand-new blue silk robe and smiling like spring sunshine, came up to greet him. “The little fellow missed you so much it could barely eat and dropped several pounds.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. From what I can see, it’s eaten well, slept well, and been living more comfortably than most.” Roy stepped up to the iron cage.
The Griffin had clearly grown a little larger since he had last seen it. Its pale yellow fur and gray-white feathers gleamed with health.
It lay crouched in the cage like a lion resting after a meal, lazily licking at its hooked claws.
But sensing the unusual movement, it tilted its head and turned its gaze toward the Witcher. Something seemed to stir it. It raised its head and climbed to its feet inside the cage, its calf-sized body drawing upright.
All at once, the Griffin’s mood turned violently agitated.
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.