System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 272: The Burden of Dead Friends
The next afternoon, the light was gray-white. Mist drifting from the Pontar River shrouded the sky over La Valette Barony. The air was damp, carrying the briny stink of fish and waterweed.
The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma members, the elven lady Aveline and Kantila of Zerrikania, left the Baron’s Castle under the escort of an officer.
Their hair was wet, clearly washed not long ago. The sour reek of long unwashed bodies had been swept away. The heavy shackles on their feet had been removed, and their filthy, greasy prison clothes had been changed for clean, tidy garments.
They looked entirely renewed.
“You two little whores got lucky. The young master woke in time, and the lord doesn’t mean to bother with you anymore.” Officer Dillon shoved the two women from behind, his mouth full of filth. “Now take your things and get out. Leave the barony within three days. Go wherever you like, but remember not to come back. Otherwise what waits for you won’t be the dungeon, but two coffins.”
“Did you eat dung for lunch? Your mouth stinks worse than shit.” The black-haired Witcher walked out from behind a nearby tower, dark-gold pupils flashing with a fierce light. His fingers cracked one after another. “Now take those disgusting claws away from the two ladies. They’re no longer prisoners for you to torture and humiliate. Touch them again, and I swear you’ll be a pile of rotten meat.”
The officer’s face turned blue and red at once, like a mouthful of food had lodged in his throat. He bared his teeth, but the thought of that ghostly, terrifying experience last time made his face change again, and he swallowed the anger alive. He did not dare answer with half a word.
Across from him, the unruly Zerrikanian woman saw this and suddenly stuck her tongue out at him, then made a vicious throat-slitting gesture.
...
“Aveline, Kantila, how does freedom feel?”
Roy watched the officer return to the castle, smiling cheerfully as he walked shoulder to shoulder beside the two women.
“Knew you wouldn’t abandon us. You’ve got honor!” Kantila hooked an arm around the Witcher’s shoulder with fiery enthusiasm, pressing her full body against him. “You caught the real culprit and cleared our names, didn’t you? The baroness even gave us a large compensation.”
Roy nodded. He understood well enough that the so-called true culprit was only the Devil Hym he had fabricated to settle the matter. Master Mirror’s affair was far too bizarre and would never convince the old baron.
The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma probably would not believe such a story either.
“Right, where’s Frozz?” Roy looked around and confirmed that only the two women were present. Frozz the Jester, the last member of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma, was nowhere to be seen.
“Frozz...” Kantila suddenly lowered her head, and the smile vanished from her face.
A trace of grief crossed Aveline’s eyes. She said nothing.
Only then did the Witcher notice the three linen sacks placed behind the women. His nose twitched.
One corpse sack smelled burnt.
Another gave off a heavy scent of flowers.
The last carried the faint rot of a fresh corpse.
“What’s in them?”
“Frozz’s body.” Kantila sighed heavily. “Last night, when the castle servants told us the true culprit had been caught, Frozz hanged himself.”
“You’re sure it was suicide?” Roy’s expression turned ugly. “Not someone in the castle killing him?”
Aveline shook her head and recalled, “Truth is, he stopped wanting to live long ago. He just didn’t want to die with a false charge on his back. Now that the truth has come out, he went to join Corin.”
The Witcher was stunned. The man he had risked everything for, challenged Master Mirror to save, had killed himself?
“So these two sacks hold Corin and Amos?”
Corin the Fire Breather had also been a member of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma, but long ago the baron had sentenced him to burning. The Witcher had seen his charred corpse displayed in the square.
And Amos had been buried by that adulterous pair in the flowerbed.
“Yes. We asked for the bodies. Once we leave the city, we’ll bury them together. It’s the last little thing we can do for three old friends.”
The mood grew heavy for a time.
Roy looked at the lifeless linen sacks on the ground. He could faintly make out the warped outlines of the bodies within.
He felt a sliver of pity for Frozz, and a vague anger.
After watching his lover die unjustly, had the man never thought of taking revenge on Baron La Valette, who gave that cruel order?
He would rather end his own life than live on, gather strength, and avenge his lover. No doubt, that was the act of a coward.
Then the Witcher mocked himself with a shake of his head. What right did he have to laugh at this poor man?
Frozz the Jester, a lowly circus performer. What strength could he rely on to take revenge against a noble with power enough to cover the sky?
As one of the countless commoners of Temeria, though treated like grass by the nobles of the realm, those who dared rise and fight with their lives were few in the end.
And those who did resist almost always became bandits and outlaws in the wilds.
...
“This way...” The elven lady led ahead, while the Witcher carried one sack and followed behind with Kantila.
“This isn’t the direction of the tavern. Where are we going?” the Witcher asked curiously.
Aveline did not turn back. She brushed back the short black hair mussed by the wind near her ear and answered beside the point, “Roy, though Frozz is dead, we’ll remember the kindness you showed in running about for The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma and clearing our names. One day, I’ll repay you.”
“I’ll say it again. Friends don’t need repayment. Wait, why one day?”
The Witcher’s lips moved, but the Zerrikanian girl beside him suddenly drew close and linked her arm through his.
“Aveline is right. Dragon’s children repay all debts. You saved me from that sunless dungeon. I owe you a life ... Roy, I’m willing to become your left and right hand, to swing my sharp scimitar for you. Of course, I can do many other things too. I promise you’ll be satisfied.”
As she spoke, the Zerrikanian girl suddenly licked her red lips in provocation, stretched out both hands before the Witcher, and turned in a circle, showing the fit, panther-like body beneath her bronze skin. With her high nose, deep-set eyes, full lips, and mysterious tattoos along her cheekbones, she gave off a wild, exotic beauty.
“Though your body isn’t as strong as a child of the Dragon’s, your face is handsome.”
She spoke to the Witcher in all seriousness.
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