System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 262: Prisoner of an Endless Dream
“A hint Amos left us, plain and simple. The answer is Foltest.” While keeping half an eye on the maid Hill Vea moving about deeper in the garden, Letho rubbed his gleaming bald head. “Once we figure out what exactly passed between the King of Temeria and that troupe actor in the garden that night, the whole course of the affair becomes clear.”
Roy nodded, agreeing, and motioned for Letho to go on.
“But there is another strange point. Foltest came here under the name Testav. Apart from the two of us and the baron and baroness, none of the servants in La Valette Castle knew he was a king. Amos was just a troupe actor, drifting from place to place. By rights, he should never have met Foltest before. So how did he expose his identity and leave us that clue?”
“I’ve thought of one possibility...” Roy licked his dry lips, slightly excited. “Amos and Aryan both entered the garden. What if they happened upon Foltest, then overheard one of the King of Temeria’s secrets...”
“A secret? You mean...” Letho felt as though he had just caught hold of a flash of insight.
“That night the moon was dim, the flowers breathed out their tempting fragrance, the little paths vanished among the blossoms, petals drifted on the wind, whispering romance...” Roy’s gaze wandered through the banks of flowers as he spoke slowly. “With scenery that beautiful, Foltest merely came out to get some air? That would ruin the whole mood.”
“Do you remember? Hill Vea mentioned earlier that Lady Luisa also left the banquet hall that night, supposedly to see to her daughter Anais. Was that really the reason? We need to speak with her...” Roy said, deep in thought. “Best if we can talk to her alone.”
...
With a creak, the door opened, and the two Witchers stepped into a spacious, warm bedchamber.
Bright sunlight poured in through the slit of the window, falling across a young boy lying in the great bed at the center of the room. His face was the color of old paper.
He had wasted away terribly. His cheeks were hollow, his cheekbones sharp, his whole face sickly. He looked much older than his true age.
Now he lay wrapped in a blanket of moderate thickness, eyes shut tight, breathing so faintly he seemed like a candle nearly snuffed by the wind.
Lady Luisa knelt half crouched beside the bed, gently wiping the boy’s cheeks with a damp cloth. Hearing footsteps, she stopped.
“Two masters...” The woman wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes and rose, folding her hands before her lower belly. “Did you find any clues in the garden?”
“We searched both the garden and the servants’ dormitory, but the result was not encouraging...” Roy shook his head vaguely and came to the bedside with Letho. One sweep of his dark-gold pupils over the boy made him frown. “My lady, this is young master Aryan, yes? How is he now?”
Luisa looked worn to the bone. “He’s alive only because the witch doctor is keeping one breath in him...”
Her gaze turned to the far side of the bed. There, near a bundle of saffron-colored curtains, stood a very old man whose clothing jarred sharply with everyone else in the castle. He wore a thick black bearskin jerkin, a necklace of chicken claws around his neck, and a yellow-green linen robe hanging to the floor, ragged and old. He put Roy in mind of those slovenly herbalists who lived hidden away in the countryside.
His hair was white at both temples, and there was barely any left on the crown of his head. His face was a map of wrinkles, yet his back remained straight, his body sturdy, his bearing spirited.
Cecile
Age: 80
Gender: Male
Identity: Witch Doctor. Most are smooth-tongued frauds; a minority possess genuine casting ability, their aptitude falling somewhere between Sorcerers and ordinary humans.
HP: 60
Mana: 150
Attributes:
Strength: 5
Agility: 5
Constitution: 6
Perception: 12
Willpower: 10
Charisma: 5
Spirit: 15
Skills:
Ancestral Arts LV5: A casting system akin to druidic natural magic, mainly encompassing curses, healing and protection, and bone divination. Because witch doctors are generally less sensitive to Chaotic Energy than Sorcerers, these arts require more complex rituals and spell components. They appear cruder and more primitive than standard magic, yet possess unique advantages.
Meditation LV5
Others:...
...
“Witcher masters, this is the witch doctor Cecile, whom the baron had specially summoned from Velen. Aryan cannot eat while he lies insensible. Ordinary physicians were helpless, and even sorcerers who examined him could do nothing. But this witch doctor managed it. He preserved Aryan’s life with an amulet.”
Luisa nodded to the witch doctor in gratitude, then drew the blanket down a little from the boy’s throat, revealing a yellow amulet hanging there.
It was made of juniper berries and silver fir wood, with a faint scent of sage about it. A shifting rainbow shimmer flowed ceaselessly around the amulet.
“Sadly, he cannot wake Aryan.”
“To manage even that is remarkable enough...” Roy said honestly. It would have been one thing if Aryan merely could not eat, but in his unconscious state even taking water was hard enough. An ordinary man would have died of dehydration within days.
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.