Bear School Astartes

Now that the skeletal enhancements are nearing completion, Bopai can hardly carry Lann forward, no matter how well he’s taken care of.

It is a warhorse chosen and selectively bred, specifically trained, not a pack horse meant for carrying heavy loads or performing physical labor.

So even if it meant saving time, to spare Bopai from bearing the burden, Lann chose river travel.

He stood at the edge of the passenger ship, the crowded people automatically leaving a gap around him.

A two-meter-six hooded man, this physique is truly intimidating and extraordinary.

Even if the lips under his hood remain thin and elegant, and the silver hair falling from his face is exquisite and dazzling.

Yet those few ladies who were attracted by half his facial features mostly returned to their senses before his towering figure.

”That’s a giant! Maybe he awakened from a crack in the ground!”

A male merchant with a soft cloth flat cap adamantly whispered.

Beside him, a lady with a child slightly counterargued.

”Giants are ugly! He’s not ugly... at most he’s a half-giant!”

”You only saw half a face and already know he’s not ugly?”

”It’s because of that half face that I dare say he’s not ugly!”

The voices of people were like mosquitoes buzzing around the ears, mostly surrounding the most conspicuous person on the ship.

In the crowd of ordinary people, from the chest up, Lann abruptly stood out among the sea of hats and hair of various colors.

After receiving news of the war breaking out from barkeeper Gatis, Lann was indeed tense for a while.

He had a good relationship with Ciri, Queen Calanthe had sought his help, and Geralt was already somewhat his friend.

These people all have close connections to this war, so Lann couldn’t help but worry.

But as time passed, he calmed down once more.

Firstly, Gatis was just a barkeeper in a village outside Vizima; the news he received must not be firsthand and certainly had many errors and embellishments.

Suppose the situation wasn’t that bad?

Lann greatly hoped his conjecture was correct.

Secondly, Lann had seen many grand scenes already.

One must calm down first before executing tasks to grasp the subsequent actions’ trajectory. This was his experience.

After a long voyage, the river passenger ship finally arrived at a station within Velen, not far from Gos Velen.

Lann led Bopai off the ship at the deck’s center; this once tall and mighty Codwin bloodline warhorse now looked like a small donkey beside him.

There was a nearby village called Hilendom, more specifically, it was just a farm.

Run by a half-elf family. The reason Hofmeier family established the farm here was to supply goods exclusively for Gos Velen.

Lann led Bopai to the farm, knocked on the door of the Hofmeier family, and rented a horse and the equipment to pull the carriage from them.

He planned on using two horses to pull the carriage with him aboard, so the horses could withstand it.

”Who might you be...?”

As the door opened, Lann had to lower his head at an angle even lower than usual when looking at ordinary people to communicate with him.

The height of the half-elf is similar to a dwarf, but they do not grow thick beards or muscular builds, only their feet are astonishingly large and sturdy enough not to need shoes, with dense hair on the tops of feet and hands.

The half-elf asking was Bernie Hofmeier, the farm owner of this estate. As he asked, one hand remained hidden behind the door, through posture, Lann judged there might be a throwing knife or dagger in that hand.

Half-elves are naturally skilled in throwing, using such weapons is understandable.

But this cautious attitude... maybe it’s because Velen is closer to the war, making people here more tense.

But the atmosphere eased as Lann removed his hood to reveal his full face and first pulled out a glittering Oren coin.

Troublemakers come to rob, not pay for goods.

”Like I said...”, looking at the Oren coin, after hearing the warlock’s rental request, the farm owner simply put his hands on his hips. ”Why don’t you just go with my son, warlock?”

”We’re just about to deliver goods to Gos Velen, you can combine your horse with our carriage.”

The half-elf farm owner’s son was named Oldes Hofmeier, more cheerful and lively than his father, with a head full of thick curls like the wool of a sheep.

On this journey, he clearly felt excited about being able to chat with the warlock.

Asking things like ’You really can magic?’ ’Can you show some tricks?’

”You surely are going to Sandy Island, I heard even a stone on that island is imbued with magic! Is that true? Also, can the warlocks really summon storms, catch lightning?”

The young half-elf asked endlessly, while the warlock replied occasionally.

”You seem not too worried, Oldes?”

Lann sat atop bundles of carrots and turnips, asking the young half-elf.

”The war has already started, didn’t you know? It’s happening not far south in Sintra.”

”I know,” Oldes spoke in a relaxed tone.

”But don’t we all find joy amidst suffering? Velen has always been in such a state, even if there’s a war, who would dispatch a large army for this vast swamp land?”

”It’s unnecessary. Velen is already in such a bad state, where could it become worse?”

The young half-elf spoke this way.

He simply thought that the hardships of earning a living were the most unbearable in the world.

But Lann knew in his heart... the terror and uncontrollability of war always extend far beyond the imagination of ordinary people.

-----------------

Before arriving at the gates of Gos Velen City, Lann got off the carriage halfway. This was where Margaret had arranged for the magic ship to dock.

”You should still pay more attention in the future, better safe than sorry, Oldes.”

After disembarking, Lann untied the harness from Bopai’s body, waved to the young half-elf.

Oldes indifferently shrugged, loudly snapping the whip in the air, urging the pack horse forward.

”Come on, don’t talk like my dad, claiming it’s that scary.”

He scratched his thick curls, smiling to wave goodbye to Lann, heading toward the city gates.

Lann shook his head, settled Bopai in a fisherman’s stable, unmoored the small boat at the dock, and rowed the magic ship towards the ocean.

The magic defined the course for the small boat, and the warlock’s vigorous paddling propelled the small boat on the rugged sea constantly forward.