System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 216
In the pitch-black darkness of Vizima’s Trade Quarter, a ghostlike shadow kept leaping from rooftop to rooftop. A pair of dark-gold pupils shone in the night like a beast’s, the figure cutting through the wind. He suddenly stopped on a roof and held his breath, below, two patrolling guards were passing along the broad stone-paved street.
The night wind blew. The Witcher crouched motionless on the tiles, balanced without so much as a twitch. In the hood behind him, a strange little thing clutched a lock of his hair in tiny fists and made a “grrl, grrl” sound, half like insect chirring, half like a frog’s croak.
“Did you hear that? Strange sound ... close by!”
“Brother, it’s not winter yet. There’s always some damned thing in heat this time of year. Sounds like somebody’s cat or dog to me.”
“Bloody beast. It’s cold enough out here to freeze the thing into a stick, and it still has the mind to go into heat?”
“Fancy warming up over at the Night Queen?”
...
Only after the guards had vanished completely did the figure on the roof move again, skittering like a lizard until he finally slipped in through the top-floor window of a certain villa.
Plop. A thread of hot sweat slid down his calf and darkened the wooden floorboards.
The bald Letho, asleep on a hanging cot in the room, woke at the noise. His amber eyes swept over.
“Kid, that’s how hard it is for you to part with the Lady of the Lake? You spent the whole day chatting with her?”
“Finished the contract, took the reward, nothing more,” Roy said, looking down at bald Letho and shaking his head. “A pity some people put in no effort and ended up with no reward.”
“Better that than let greed blind you and turn you into a toy and a puppet.” Letho rocked lazily in the cot, but there was warning in his voice.
“You really have it in for the Lady of the Lake? Still, don’t worry...” Roy drew a breath and said gravely, “I know exactly where I stand. The Lady of the Lake, the Church of Virtue, Princess Adda, all of it is cooperation and hire, mutual benefit. I won’t let them control me.”
“Remember those words ... and keep your distance from religion as much as you can.” Letho sighed. “There are too many madmen in it. Even if you stay clear-headed for a while, sooner or later they’ll wear you down and make you one of them.”
“Mm.”
“Go take a bath. Smell yourself. You stink worse than a Rotfiend.”
Letho tossed him a towel, then flicked his gaze over Roy’s shoulder. “And what’s with that toad?”
...
“Hah...” Roy let out a long, pleased sigh as he lounged in the bathtub.
The scalding steam had flushed his skin red and brought sweat to his brow, but he was completely at ease. There was no need to worry about a lobster crawling out of the tub and trying to kill him.
The water was strewn with flower petals, private stock belonging to Sorceress Coral, the things she used for bathing. Roy had now been granted the right to use them as well.
Bald Letho glanced at his apprentice’s arm. The skin was fine, nothing like that of a Witcher who lived in sun and wind. Not just the arm, every inch of him was finer-skinned than before.
What use was it for a Witcher to look this good? Letho could not help worrying for the boy. Had the Lady of the Lake a mind to turn him into a pretty pet for her bed?
Shaking the thought off, Letho grabbed the “toad” by both legs and lifted it upside down, looking it over from every angle.
In this altered form, the little creature had a mild temperament. It made no resistance, only stared back curiously with round black eyes, while its long narrow mouth bubbled in the water.
“What in hell is this thing, a Vodyanoi spawn? Where’d you get it?”
“Remember that lunatic alchemist Kalkstein? You could say it was a gift from him ... a pet.” Roy wiped his wet hair with the towel. After a moment’s thought, he decided not to reveal the Griffin’s true identity yet. Better to let them grow used to each other first.
Whatever the case, the little thing would be joining the Witchers’ company in time.
“You can call it Griffin. Today it’s in Vodyanoi form, but that may not hold tomorrow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll know when the time comes.”
A finger as thick as a carrot prodded its round belly. At once it wrapped all four limbs tightly around it.
Letho’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s a cute little thing, but pretty and useless, dead weight. Want to sell it? I’d wager some noblewomen in Vizima would be interested ... and we’ve spent a fair bit of coin forging those weapons.”
At once the upside-down Griffin glared furiously at bald Letho, baring itself and growling in bubbling outrage.
“What do you mean, dead weight?” Roy rolled over and rested his chin on the rim of the tub, arguing back. “The Griffin will be useful later. Selling it is out of the question.”
“Unless somebody offers ten thousand Crowns.”
“Grrr...”
Roy then asked about Princess Adda and the Order of the White Rose of Ellander.
By day, though Alzur’s Thunder had been interrupted on Black Gull Island, the fishermen and masons by Lake Vizima, and most of the residents within Vizima itself, had all seen the strange phenomenon above the island. Some said it was a demon invasion. Others claimed it was a sign of the world’s end.
To calm the public.