System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 88
On the moving carriage, Roy and the Witcher were speaking in low tones.
“Those Kikimores that attacked the villagers were slaughtered to the last—could the killer have been protecting the people of Shaerrawedd?” Roy could hardly believe the supposition himself. By his reckoning, the culprit ought to be some powerful monster; there were few in the world that would willingly aid humans.
“After you checked, can you be certain of the killer’s true identity?” he asked.
“I’m about seventy percent sure. Apart from the absence of the urine marks creatures leave to claim a territory, the other traces do match.” The Witcher’s face showed hesitation. “But until we actually see the thing, nothing is certain.”
“And how do you explain its behavior? Was it protecting the villagers?” Roy asked, curious.
The Witcher answered in a low voice, “Maybe it was coincidence. It may have recently migrated nearby—creatures with strong territorial instincts will kill a cluster of Kikimores. Once The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma caravan moved a little further away, out of its hunting range, it naturally wouldn’t be attacked.” He added to himself, “No need to worry too much, for now don’t let anyone in The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma know.”
While the two whispered, at the back of the carriage several members of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma watched them closely.
“Aveline, you’ve been talking with them these past days, you should have a feel for their characters,” Aaron said, folding his arms; the heavy lines of his brows carried a deep question. “Though the Viper School is known faintly up north and they’re not some raving lunatics, I still suspect they have ulterior motives.”
Aveline bit her red lip. “I can be certain Roy of my kind bears no ill will, he is trustworthy, but—” her tone shifted, “Master Letho I can’t read. He speaks little, shows nothing, his eyes are cold enough to make the skin crawl, and he seems to be watching something all the time. Yet the wounds on him don’t look feigned.”
“They say Witchers are somehow deficient in emotion compared to ordinary folk; seems the tale isn’t wholly made up.”
On the other side, Corin slapped his heavily furred, broad chest with a careless laugh. “Boss, don’t worry. I’ll keep a close eye on those two. A lame Witcher and a runt still growing his hair, poor things without proper weapons—there’s no way they’ll cause any trouble.”
“Watch your manner.” Aaron cautioned, “They are guests of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma; don’t goad them. We might need to rely on them later.”
He turned to the woman. “Supervision really suits Aveline best. Keep them steady, keep them in our sight. You mentioned your folk were interested in Amos’s card tricks? Let him have his fun; call Amos over to ‘talk seriously’ with them, and make a little extra coin for The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma while you’re at it.”
“As for that ‘big-breasted, empty-headed’ Corin, make sure he keeps them penned tonight, don’t let them wander the camp!”
“At once, boss!”
With orders given, the elf woman changed carriages and returned to Roy’s side.
Aaron leaned against the rim of the carriage, curled his right pinky and put it to his mouth, blowing a sharp whistle. In an instant Tawn streaked from the carriage like a black bolt, beating its wings and settling on his arm.
Strangely, a grey-and-white feather was clamped in Tawn’s sharp beak.
Aaron’s face darkened abruptly. He tapped the bird’s head in reproach, “Naughty boy, you attacked it again while Fenn was asleep? Remember, it’s your sister; you should protect her, not bully her!”
“kak, kak...” Tawn’s black eyes rolled twice, and, like a chastened child, lowered its head. Its short beak nuzzled Aaron’s thick hair in a small, conciliatory peck.
“All right, this time father will forgive you, but if you do it again...”
Tawn shrank its wings about itself and trembled, nodding quickly.
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