System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 194
“Tap, tap, tap, tap...” Urgent footsteps echoed down the corridor as Grant, panting hard, shoved open the bedroom door at the top of the keep.
At a glance he saw the broad, well-lit chamber and, in its center, the fine ebony bed where a pale man lay sprawled, reeking faintly of wine, his body just beginning to thicken with middle age. The man was plainly asleep. His chest rose and fell, and his snoring was loud enough to shake the room. Beside the bed stood a small maid attending him.
“All’s well, then.” Grant let out a breath. “I must have gone mad to believe those two Witchers and their nonsense.”
Still, his worry had not been without reason.
If anything happened to Sir Ignatius, the Verrieres line would die out for good.
Then White Orchard would revert to Vizima’s direct rule, and all of them, every servant in the castle, even a steward who looked so fine on the surface, would be cast back to the soil, scratching their living out of the earth like common peasants.
Grant had lived too long as a nobleman’s favored dog to stomach becoming a mud-footed farmer again.
Even the lowest rank of nobility, a baron with debauched habits and rotting morals, was still nobility, higher than common folk. Grant strengthened his conviction, gently closed the bedroom door, and resolved to send men to verify the crypt with their own eyes.
...
Roy took a sip of red tea. There was a slice of lemon steeped in it, and the taste was lightly sour. “I don’t think the steward was lying. The castle doesn’t look as though a Banshee has been inside it. Perhaps it already left White Orchard long ago.” On the way here he had used Scry on every possible target, but all of them turned out to be ordinary people.
The medallion at his throat had not warned them of any magical disturbance either.
“Then we find a chance and search the castle top to bottom,” Letho said. “The Viper School silver sword schematic is certainly being kept somewhere by Ignatius.”
“And don’t forget,” Roy added, “once we recover the diagram, we still have to demand justice for Kolgrim in front of Ignatius himself. And think on what the innkeeper said. The things Ignatius did in White Orchard were worse than the Devil’s own work. If the chance comes, maybe we should simply...”
The young Witcher raised his hand like a blade and made a chopping motion through the air.
“Easy, Roy. A noble’s estate is not a bandit den, and the situation doesn’t allow for us to act rashly.” Letho rubbed his chin and spoke seriously. “I’ve no desire to earn the name of assassin of nobles and become a hunted man in Temeria.”
“The South is bad enough as it is. No point cutting off our road through the North as well.”
“I was joking.”
Creak.
The office door suddenly opened. Grant came back in, wiping nervous sweat from his brow, and smiled at the two Witchers on the sofa. “His lordship is sleeping soundly. I’m certain now that the monster you masters feared is not in the castle. I’ve just sent men to the crypt to verify the matter. We should have word before noon, but you’ll have to wait a while.”
“Just as well,” Letho said. “We have a few questions we’d like to ask Steward Grant.”
“Ask away, master.” Grant sank into the wicker chair behind his desk and narrowed his eyes comfortably.
“On our way in, we happened to overhear your exchange with the servant,” Letho said carefully. “His lordship only went to sleep this morning?”
“That’s no great secret. I don’t mind telling you.” Grant’s face grew gloomy, full of concern. “His lordship has long been plagued by insomnia. Most nights he can only sleep once he’s worn himself down into complete exhaustion by morning.”
“So while the lord rests by day, the burden of managing the whole castle falls on your shoulders. Hard work, I’d say.”
At that, Grant’s chest swelled a little, and a trace of satisfaction appeared on his round, fleshy face.
“It cannot be helped. A servant’s duty is to spare his master what burdens he can. His lordship is in poor health and low in spirit, so all the more reason I must keep the castle running smoothly and give him one less thing to suffer for.”
“Remarkably loyal,” the Witcher said admiringly, though a flicker of mockery flashed through his eyes. “A steward as dependable as you must have served in this castle many years and earned much trust.”
The words struck Grant exactly where he liked it most. His whole plump face seemed to glow.
“I began work in Fortress Amavet at the age of twelve, back when Master John and Lady Mary were still alive...” Once started, he poured forth like floodwater through opened gates, bragging on and on about his past.
The two Witchers exchanged a glance.
“His lordship saw that though I was young, I was exceptionally capable, and that my family had farmed for three generations and was entirely respectable, so he made an exception and raised me to steward...” Grant’s spit flew as he talked. Then, without warning, he looked up and saw the Witcher tracing a strange sign toward him. At once, the light went out of his eyes. His body slackened into the wicker chair, limp as a puppet.
“Now then, let us speak of something more interesting.” Roy locked the office door and came straight to the point. “Two years ago, Sir Ignatius judged a Witcher named Kolgrim and falsely accused him of abducting a beekeeper’s son. Do you remember it?”
“I remember.”
“At the time, his lordship confiscated a diagram from Kolgrim. Do you know where he hid it?”
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