Bear School Astartes

Lann rode Bopai, while Geralt rode a mare named Carrot.

After leaving Ham, they planned to head to the lakeside to find the unfortunate Sir Fist and get reliable information directly from him.

Relying solely on a single information source inevitably results in incomplete and biased intel, but gathering information is part of the Demon Hunters’ duty, so there’s no reason to complain.

Lann’s journey was not urgent, otherwise he wouldn’t choose to ride instead of using the portal. The old Demon Hunter named Vesemir was acting under the King’s commission.

It was perfectly normal for this level of task to take several months.

Rather than rushing, it was better to follow this renowned ”White Wolf” and learn a trick or two; perhaps after some time, he might even serve as an intermediary.

With an intermediary speaking on your behalf, the opportunity to study at the Wolf School’s castle becomes much more secure.

The further the hooves moved toward the lake, the deeper the hoofprints left on the ground.

Splatters of mud were kicked up by the hooves, spraying onto the hems of both of their cloaks.

Even while riding, they maintained a distance to avoid misunderstandings.

Not too far, not too close—a distance familiar yet still strangers.

Geralt couldn’t let go of his caution against a Bear Demon Hunter who slaughtered over two hundred humans in one night.

Lann fully understood his concerns and maintained a silent mutual understanding regarding their distance.

”Did you find out where that knight often appears? The lake isn’t big, but finding a cormorant won’t be easy, even if it’s wearing a nettle shirt.”

Lann controlled the pace of his horse, Bopai’s bloodline was clearly better than the mare named Carrot.

Geralt tidied his milk-white hair, tangled by the wind.

”I’ve asked about it, just follow.”

Soon after, they stopped by a lake’s muddy shore. On this muddy bank, a small table made of stones was set up, with dried fish scales and fish blood on it.

Presumably, it’s a place where Miss Eliza feeds her brother.

Geralt methodically placed two fresh fish on the table, then led Carrot to stand with Lann at the side.

The young Demon Hunter watched intently; this was the first time he witnessed a normal Demon Hunter at work.

Since Bordeaux brought him along, the preparation before each task had become increasingly perfunctory, as having an apprentice allowed him to share the risks.

The wind on the lake lowered patches of reeds, with both men and horses standing on the flattened reeds covering the muddy bank.

Waiting got a bit tedious, and the silent atmosphere felt awkward.

Thus, Lann reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of cards.

Geralt, who had been watching him as he dug into his pocket, raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

”Gwent cards, the current popular dwarf card game.”

Lann gestured toward Geralt.

”I can share some with you; want to try? It’s a great time killer.”

The young Demon Hunter saw the lips of the person across him move slightly, seeming somewhat tempted. Then he crossed his arms in apparent resistance.

”No, forget it. Sorry, but we’re not quite at the level of exchanging gifts yet.”

”Alright, it’s up to you.”

Lann was not insistent and started shuffling the cards on his own to pass the time.

But as the sound of the cards moving echoed, Geralt turned his head away, his arms crossed but fingers began tapping rhythmically on his upper arm.

This made Lann’s eyes narrow a bit.

Ah, an old gambler!

Just hearing the card sounds, even those who haven’t played would feel the itch.

Lann’s card shuffling didn’t last long before both of them looked up at another spot in the sky.

The flapping sounds of bird wings were coming from there.

A somewhat clumsy cormorant flew in from low altitude.

Under their gaze, it skillfully landed onto the small stone table and swallowed the two fresh fish in a few gulps.

Leaving behind a pile of bird droppings.

Geralt, who was about to step forward, halted at the sight.

Defecating on the dinner table... curses are truly terrifying.

The bird’s body prevents them from controlling their excretion; indeed, the cormorant itself stared at the pile beneath it and remained motionless for a long time.

Then, as if suddenly enraged, it squawked and flapped wildly.

Lann looked at the cormorant with a hint of pity.

It’s said that Sir Fist used to be a towering man built like a bull. Turning someone like him into a creature unable to control even its bowels surely broke him mentally.

Yet the task must be done, as they came to turn him back into a human.

”Fist?”

Geralt, seemingly oblivious to everything, stepped forward and calmly inquired of the cormorant clad in the nettle shirt.

This was the best way to handle someone’s embarrassing moment.

The furious cormorant shrieked for a while but then calmed down, nodded.

If such emotional changes were shown on a human face, they would be incredibly complex and vibrant.

But a bird’s face lacks enough small muscles to express emotion, so in front of them, it remained looking dumbfounded.

Geralt briefly described his commission by King Aivelle and purpose, and produced the parchment stamped with the seal to prove he wasn’t there to capture and sell it.

There are many like that, a noble turned into a water bird would make a prized collection and fetch a high price.

Lann watched from behind, nodding repeatedly, instructing Mentos to take class notes.

Curse-breaking is a complex task; a Curse Breaker faces not only an established curse and the caster who’s keen to keep the curse, but also the pathological insecurity the cursed experience from prolonged fear.

Geralt demonstrated to Lann how a seasoned old Demon Hunter carried out his work from the start.

The King’s seal endowed Geralt with a trustworthy identity, enhancing the cormorant’s cooperative attitude on subsequent interrogation.

”I need to ask a key question first—has the one who cursed you, was she a witch?”

On hearing this, the cormorant couldn’t help but screech sharply.

Geralt remained unmoved, still and indifferent, his arms crossed watching the frenzied water bird.

”Given your mode of expression, the only information acceptable to me is a nod or a shake of the head. So, Sir, don’t let anger hinder your transformation back to human. Give me a rational, unbiased answer is she a witch?”

”Caw! Caw caw!”

Finally, the cormorant shook its head vigorously back and forth, allowing the conversation to continue...

After preliminary questions, the cormorant flew away.

Geralt returned to his mare Carrot, mounted up, and naturally, Lann followed.

”You make me feel like I’m bringing an apprentice... The Wolf School hasn’t had apprentices for a long time.”

On topics about reminiscing the old days, the young have little to say, so he could only divert his gaze and inquire about professional knowledge.

”You seemed to ask a lot of personal questions earlier. What’s the point?”

”I need to determine their relationship and feelings towards each other. When casting the curse, did she have greed for property, resentment from betrayal, or sheer anger? Curses stemming from different emotions affect the curse-breaking process.”

”But it’s so subjective; would our Sir Fist, deeply in love, believe his partner doesn’t love him?”

”Hence, our work is far from being done.”

Geralt glanced at Lann, who appeared fully focused on memorizing.

”Tomorrow, he’ll take us around the spots where he and the woman rendezvoused. Let us see what kind of curse this truly is.”

”That’s when we’ll be busy.”