Bear School Astartes

When the two returned again, Geralt abruptly raised his hand to stop them from coming too close and pulled Ciri behind him, keeping a distance from them.

”Did you touch anything in the yard? Anything at all?”

Geralt asked cautiously.

Demon Hunters were immune to diseases, but Dandelion and Ciri were just ordinary people. The plague was as deadly to them as swords.

”No, no, that dog wouldn’t let us near...”

Dandelion felt his tongue tie up with nervousness.

”You should be grateful to that mongrel dog, if for nothing else than Ged.” Geralt looked up at the sky, ”May the gods grant it a long life, with a pile of bones as high as the Amel Mountains. That girl, the one who came out of the house, does she have blisters?”

”No, she’s very healthy. It’s her relatives who are infected, all in another wooden hut. She also said that many people have already died. Oh my god... Geralt, the wind is blowing our way!”

”Nothing to fear.” Geralt waved it off.

”As long as you didn’t touch any smallpox patients, there’s nothing to worry about... if there is any smallpox at all. Maybe the girl just wanted to scare you away.”

”No.” Ged was much calmer than the poet, ”There’s a pit behind the house, with corpses inside. The girl didn’t have the strength to bury the dead properly, so she just threw them into the pit.”

”Alright.” Geralt sighed, slowly resetting the string on the crossbow.

Thanks to the exchange of ideas with Lann, the Wolf School had now equipped themselves with crossbows, or hand crossbows.

”Although the milk oatmeal smells good, we won’t be tasting it.”

”But you and Ged can drink it, right?” Ciri tugged at Geralt’s clothes beside him.

”Yes, we can drink it. But then we’d have to come into contact with the patients’ house and utensils, and there’s no guarantee we wouldn’t bring something out with us, inflicting it on you and Dandelion.”

With that, the four of them prepared to turn and leave.

But the dog in the yard started barking furiously again.

”Get down.” The white-haired Demon Hunter rasped, crouching down.

A group of riders appeared from the other end of the clearing, where there was an opening between the trees. They whistled, shouted loudly, galloped their horses around the farm, and then rushed into the yard.

Under the dim torchlight, the great sun crest on their clothes was very conspicuous.

”Twenty-seven of them.” Ged quickly counted the numbers.

”Who are they?” Dandelion quickly lay on the ground, holding down the heron feather on his hat, and asked while looking up.

”They’re Niflgaard people.” Geralt assessed. ”Look at those glittering black armors on them! Enamel on steel!”

The riders shouted and jeered around the yard. One of them struck the dog with the butt of his spear, scaring it away. The girl with the long braids ran out of the house, shouting again.

But this time, her warning had no effect because those men simply ignored it. One rider spurred his horse forward, grabbed one of the girl’s braids, dragging her from the doorway across the mud reflecting the moonlight.

The others jumped off their horses, together dragging the girl to the other end of the yard. They tore off her chemise, throwing her onto a pile of rotten straw.

The girl struggled fiercely, but how could she be a match for these brutes?

Only one soldier stayed behind, looking after the horses tied up by the fence.

The girl let out a long, piercing scream, followed by a short cry of pain. After that, she fell silent.

”These are Niflgaard’s soldiers!” Ciri’s previously smiling face suddenly turned dark.

”These are the soldiers they claim to be ’civilized’ and ’righteous’!”

Geralt thought he would have to press a hand on Ciri’s shoulder to stop the young girl, who had just witnessed a tragedy, from doing something foolish.

But he soon remembered: a young girl who had experienced tragedy, still lively and energetic, but had corrected many impulsive faults.

This is so-called ’growth’.

But Geralt now actually wished Ciri was still the one who charged recklessly through the Brook Leon Forest.

Dandelion, holding down the heron feather on his hat, shook his head: ”Apparently, these people aren’t afraid of smallpox anymore, or they think smallpox is just an excuse for the girl to avoid them... Meretelli oh, twenty-seven strong men, that girl will be toyed with to death by them!”

”But they aren’t scared of smallpox, yet they should fear swords!”

Ged’s tone was calm yet tinged with danger.

His hand, clad in studded leather gloves, also reached for the sword hilt behind his shoulder.

”Are you crazy?” Dandelion looked at him fearfully from beneath Ged’s thick beard, ”Those are twenty-seven Niflgaard soldiers! Trained, sharp swords, gleaming armor! Not twenty-seven thugs and mobs!”

”So what? You want us to stand by and watch, Dandelion?”

Geralt spoke up from the side, making the renowned poet even more terrified, shrinking like a rabbit chased out of its hole.

The white-haired Demon Hunter retied the leather cord holding his hair tighter, and Ciri, her eyes shimmering, looked up at him, and he also met the young girl’s gaze.

”No, Dandelion... I’m sick and tired of people doing monstrous things in front of me.”

A frightening smile silently spread between Ged’s bearded cheeks.

”You’re insane...” Dandelion shouted, ”You’re going to take on a whole group of people? What the hell has gotten into you? Want to play the hero rescuing the damsel?”

”Shut up.” Geralt shouted without turning his head.

”Alright, alright!” Dandelion said with a tone of broken resignation. ”And what about me? I have to go with you! Let me do something!”

”There’s nothing you can do, stay here with me.” Ciri said, walking to the poet’s side.

But the poet quickly put his hand on her shoulder, pushing her further back.

”You shut up too! Little lass!”

Though trembling, the poet’s tone was all the more resolved.

”I’ve followed Geralt through countless dangers that you wouldn’t even dare imagine! What is this? You expect me to back out at this point?!”

”I haven’t trained in anything lethal, but I can at least throw stones! I’ll stand to the side and throw stones at those guys, even if they send a few over to kill me, at least you’ll have a bit less pressure!”

The poet’s words seemed ready for noble martyrdom, making both Ged and Geralt laugh despite themselves.

To which Dandelion, dissatisfied, said: ”What are you laughing at? I’m serious!”

”No one thinks you’re not serious, great poet.” Ged patted Dandelion on the shoulder.

”But it’s not that bad. You will live to tell everyone about this day.”

Then, in the dim night, two Demon Hunters walked out of their hiding spot, while the poet emerged from the aside.

The Demon Hunters drew their steel swords from behind with their right hands, while simultaneously lifting their crossbows with their left, aiming at those ’people’ who flaunted under the torchlight.