Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Sleeping Beauty Reloaded	By : dschinny Category: +S through Z > Witcher 2, The: Assassins of Kings Views: 1938 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Day 1 - The Plough on Heaven’s meadow and Bathhouse’s Lumber
At a point Geralt was woken by a tickle of hair strands on his chest when she left to have a drink of water, wash down his cream. The woman went to extinguish the candles within the two lanterns. Before the chamber plunged into complete darkness, he lifted the blanket to invite her to settle by his side again. He was a monster-killing-monster …with bedside manners. And the little butcher did not look like she would dare to put her teeth around his most private body part anytime soon. Maybe she had devoured a part of his vital power like a succubus; that superfluous bit that made him restless.
What was her name again? In case she was prone to pillow talk, he sifted through his memory. Velita.
But she did not try to squeeze information from him in return for her sexual favor. Only the quiet, peaceful sounds of animals kept coming from the hay racks in the nearby partitions of the stable. Warm, clean, well fed and with his arm full of complacent female and the door secured by his Yrden, hours must have ticked by quickly until a screech from the ceiling awoke him.
‘She’s gone… no,” she had climbed up the stored saddles like a badger. Her bare ankle just vanished through a trap door up to the hayloft. The oven was no longer warm, the air temperature had dropped to chilly but his hair was dry and fluffy on the clean linen. The bed was hard, but servicewise, he couldn’t ask for more. He groaned, stretched and then cast an Igni at the lanterns. He reached down into his saddle bag to retrieve fresh small clothes.
His host was rummaging around at the right end of the stable aisle, lids clapped, a sluice screeched, chicken clucked sleepily and then a draft entered underneath the wooden partition of the saddle chamber when the stable gate was pushed open and shut again. The ash was cleared out and the adobe oven was fired on from the garden side of the wall.
Velita was out there alone and he had to get dressed to decency to tell-off the evil lurking outside that door. Make clear to the local nobleman that enforced sexual services were not what he required during this contract.
“Morning, Cass,” Velita pushed into the kitchen with a basket full of fresh eggs. - “Morning. You’re looking good today.” – “Yeah, but it’s damn cold, do you have hot water ready?” – “Didn’t the whoreson take his paws off you for long enough to keep the fire going?” the cook chuckled, “do tell!”- “Pull your mind from the gutter, Cass, not everybody is privileged to live in the mansion. Gernot can only chop so much wood.” – “He would certainly give it to you if you were as forthcoming with him as with that Butcher of Blaviken.” – “You will have to come and collect your groceries yourself if you keep it up,” Velita snapped back. - “Put all but ten eggs in the store, then I’ll give you the boiling water.” – “What about ham? I also need more bread, and a slice of the cold roast.” – “Hand’s off the Count’s breakfast!” – “Just a thin slice…?” Velita dropped the begging act once she rounded the corner of the oak kitchen table “…or would you prefer me to point the butcher the way to your kitchen so he can slice and dice his lunch package from you?”
Meanwhile, rooster had reached the dung heap and proudly announced his territorial call over the orchard and his hens. The witcher was armed up to gambeson and just closed the buckle of the potion’s holster. The Yrden sign faded on the third crow.
The door was pushed open with an elbow, “Good morning Geralt, care for breakfast?” Her smile was badly hidden while she thought how an all-mighty magician could get himself locked up forever if nobody closed the chicken-sluice at dusk and a fox got in …or if nobody opened the sluice to let the rooster out into daylight to start with.
Knocking wasn’t one of her concerns, obviously. The witcher stared at her, taking a deep breath. She did not look like she had been troubled; there was no other man’s odor on her. After a brief moment, he relaxed his eyebrows and the vertical folds on his forehead vanished.
“Yes,” he sat while she set the makeshift table. Her good mood was contagious. Her dress had not lengthened to decency but she wasn’t shy around him anymore. For warmth she had thrown on a sleeveless vest that had been a shredded horse blanket in an earlier life. Her arms and legs were covered in goose bumps. Nevertheless she pulled the stuffing out of a window slit to let daylight in and the cooking fumes out.
Out of the sizzling pan came ham’n’eggs on a slice of dark bread, the breakfast of champions. He ate and she topped up a cup with hot water. He sniffed as the scent of fermented blackberry leaves emerged. Kneeling in front of the low table, she shoved a package wrapped in a wax cloth over to him. “I’ve got you roast, bread and apples for lunch. Please pack it in and extinguish the candles while I get Roach ready.”
“Thanks. I’ll armor up then. Got any issues out there so far?” The witcher inquired, a low tense hiss underlined his words.
“It is still early. No worries,” she smiled at him and hoisted Roach’s blanket and saddle up on her shoulder.
“Leave the snaffle bit to me. Roach can be a bit difficult with that.” - “Alright, Geralt.”
She had Roach cleaned, saddled and outside at the trough to tie the halter to an iron ring when the Captain-of-no-guard caught up with her. He was up extra early to gloat over the misfortune he had impended on her yesterday.
“Let me see if you have done him right…” the captain shoved her face forwards into the gap between Roach’s shoulder and the saddle bow and reached under her skirt to grab for her pussy. She wiggled to avoid him and he moved to kick her bare ankles apart with a spurred boot.
When his vision cleared from the flash of pain in his own foot, he was down on his butt next to an enraged red mare, which was no longer tied to the stone trough but came at him prancing.
“Hoh, easy Roach,” the armored butcher came around to rein his beast back in, giving him a cold look over his shoulder. “I had warned you to stay away.”
“That stupid bitch didn’t tie it properly, probably broke my foot,” the captain complained, nursing his foot.
“You came too close to my horse; it’s your own fault.” The witcher worked to calm Roach enough so she would take the snaffle bit, whispering only approvals and niceties in her perked ear.
“Fuck it,” the captain turned at the commotion of barking dogs. “Gernot, get here and aid me!” he yelled at the man in green that had entered the courtyard with a pack of exited dogs on his hands that were attached to a single long line. Bow and quiver was strapped to his back, a long dagger hung from his side.
“Hold back, Adda. Sit,” the hunter signaled the leader of the pack, a tall heavy short furred dog with oval hanging ears, strong nose, its blanket a tabby in brown and red. The dog obeyed hesitantly, only after an intense look at the captain who had gone down. The rest of the pack was made of slim black running dogs and followed the lead dog in suit attention.
Gernot threw the coiled end of the leash to the ground, signaled soundlessly but sternly to the pack to remain seated then hoisted the fallen captain to his feet. “Let me take you to your room brother, I’ll show the witcher the hunting grounds.” He pulled the captains’ armored forearm through between the narrow rim of his felt hat and the quiver and half walked, half dragged him over the court. On the way he called over his shoulder, “Velita, would you please get Cricket ready and out for me while I take care of this?”
“Yes, Master Gernot.”
Now that sounded friendly enough, but the witcher’s amber eyes followed Velita until she vanished in the dark maw of the stable gate. Showing his affection in front of those people would give him a weakness they could exploit. Stroking over the patch of white on Roach’s nose with the back of his thumb, he guided the bit into his horse’s mouth then picked up his saddle bags like nothing happened and fixed them on Roach’s back. Since his troubles with the baser humanity continued and leshen was a magical sort of more or less hard wood, he left the precious silver sword in the tall package and strapped it diagonally to Roach’s side.
Velita brought out a brown thorough-bred hunting horse with a light saddle and thin tack. She was about to tie it between Roach and the faithfully seated pack of hunting dogs, when Gernot exited the cavalier's house, opened the main gate and crossed the court. The trim dark haired man lifted his fist and elbow to greet the witcher, “Morning Sir. Mount up, we’re going,” then he picked up on the dogs, slung the leash around the saddle’s pommel and mounted up fluently. Cricket was still held by Velita but apparently used to ruckus the dogs made at her side.
Geralt nudged Roach to the center of the court to let Gernot pass and take the lead through the gate. The dogs’ overexcited yapping ceased now that they were on their way. He sidled up with the local to listen to the huntsman’s description of the mansion’s grounds that he was to purge from the monster’s plague. Plenty of woodland to find something that looked like a plant but moved like an animal, stabbed like a spear and cut like a whip. “Do you really think that your dogs can help us with our task?” the witcher inquired.
“If they see the monster, they are going to help as they can.” Gernot shrugged and scratched his dark brown moustache. He had already lost two of his large packers that way, but they had saved his life. “Most of all, there could be more victims to be buried. We find them, we might find visible tracks or dislocated blood stains that we can follow. Besides, Adda is so well-trained that she doesn’t need a single drop of blood to track. Any continued injury of the top soil will do, we just have to point her out where to start so she knows what we are looking for.”
The nearby main roads that lead through the wood and to the village were completely deserted. Their brief conversation had given way to perimeter attention. Fear had suppressed any market activity in the nearby town and was cutting into the regular tax income of the Lord of Midville. Since the hunter had stopped briefing him and they found no more victims in the roadside ditches, Geralt decided to drop-in a side question, “Is it a local custom that your gardener runs around in a nightgown?”
“It is not Velita’s choice.” Gernot shrugged defensively, looking straight ahead. “It’s the Count who bought her and the Captain who prefer easy access.”
“What about you?”
“I have no influence to change what they have become. But I’m doing my best to pick up their shards.”
The witcher noted the general gesture at the countryside and pushed further, “How so?”
“Maybe it isn’t a monster, but a curse that fell upon us. Town rumor even has that the gods of the woods are angry with the lord of the mansion.”
Godly involvement sounded like an evasive defense strategy for a down-to-earth crime to Geralt. “What has that to do with Velita?”
“The trouble started shortly after she arrived.”
“Do you think she’s a witch who unleashed a monster, with a revenge motive, maybe?”
“No, not at all,” Gernot paled at the mere suspicion of witchcraft. “You probably did not notice what’s happening here.”
“It will stay among the two of us, I promise.”
“Hm.” Gernot took a long moment to think his explanation through. “First of all, you have to understand that Velita is a truly good soul, caring and reliable. She would not hurt anybody.”
“As your brother experienced this morning…” the witcher had seen fairly well that she had pulled the knot lose when she dove under Roach’s neck.
A mischievous smile crossed Gernot’s expression, but it was short lived. “It wasn’t always like this. Of course she tried to fend for herself when they brought her here, who wouldn’t?” his gaze became unfocused, “But there was no Roach invited to the incident they refer as ‘welcome party’ at the cavalier’s house. It was just her and the Captain and his guardsmen. I found her lying naked in the corridor when I came home from the evening lookout in early September. Beaten and bruised, they had done their worst to shatter her dignity and then went back to drinking. I should have done the decent thing I do for any wounded animal out there and end that game. But she looked me right in the eye, hurt and frightened but …human. I did not have it in me to spare her the suffering. I wrapped her in my coat instead and relocated her to the hut at the far garden wall. I’m neither nurse nor doctor, I just did what I could. Nobody else cared.”
“Hm,” the witcher recognized a man in need of confessions and gave Gernot quiet time to get a hold of his emotions and return to his matter-of-fact narration.
“Two weeks later, she was up and about in the garden, the guards’ initial interest had waned and the Count was having a festivity to open the annual red stag hunt with his friends and allies. For the show, he decided to degrade Velita some more for entertainment. He had her costumed as a nymph. To cover the healing bruises effectively, they smeared green paint on her wrists and ankles and stuck leaves to it. As fauns, he had dressed up the countess’ sedan carrier slaves with fur and horns. Then he set them to chase the so called nymph all over the compound and take her down in front of the banquet table. I know that royals got marble statues of mythological scenes in their gardens. They consider it art, but I’m just a simple man and the real deal turned me off.”
“I’ve met a real faun once and I can assure you he would be put off as well.
I still cannot see the connection to the outside woods.”
“The orgy at the banquet was interrupted by a late visitor’s coach pulling up to the main gate. The inside was splattered in blood but empty otherwise. The coachman died while banging at the gate. They had locked it from the inside for the fake hunt they staged. By the time the captain came to open, the coachman could no longer tell us what happened. But I guess it dawned on some of the lords and ladies that from now on, they would be the hunted.
That night, the red stags’ call ceased. A pack of wolves entering the grounds is known to have such a silencing effect, so I went out looking for wolf tracks first thing in the morning. The Count still expected me to guide the visiting lords to their success. It was a frosty, bright morning which should have been ideal conditions, but from one night to the other, the rut vanished from all the known meadows and didn’t come up again without palpable reason. While birds chatter and mice and foxes are on their ways, all hoofed game has gone into hiding - but the superior predator is definitely not a wolf pack.”
“So there is some sort of coincidence.”
“Coincidence, yes, but I cannot see intellect or reason behind the slaughter that followed. It is not like a selective revenge. Most of the lords and ladies who attended the banquet are said to have returned home unharmed during the following days. Nevertheless there is a constant loss of human life and life stock along the road and in the woods. While the sedan carriers went unharmed so far, other simple people who did not attend or served at the banquet make the majority of the victims. Maybe it is because the lords travelled in bright daylight and on a wide road?”
“Possibly. Leshen prefer dusk to dawn and plant growth to hide in. I know of one elfish magician who controlled one, but that was a rare case, years before my active time started. It is historic because Kaer Morhen was destroyed in result.”
“Even if this monster was set on us by a magician, it still cannot be Velita. Controlling a powerful monster would require even greater power, wouldn’t it?”
“Mental power and further artifacts or signs.” Geralt supported, “Which are not necessarily recognizable to non-magicians.”
“Let’s try logic: Velita was manhandled by the carriers at that time. They are four truly strong men who gave their best to catch her in order to avoid a lashing. All she could do was run to exhaustion, unable to hold her ground to place artifacts or signs. Once they managed to run her down, she was too weak to defend her bare hide against whatever suggestions the lords and ladies came up with. She has been healing, growing stronger since that, but you have no idea how worn and psyched out she was. This means that even if Velita was a trained magician, she could not cast a spell at the time the coach was raided, right?”
Geralt thought that logic had a point, but in the past decades he had seen plenty of evil and become somewhat paranoid about magical means. Lesser and greater evils… were more often connected than not. “A mage could have created or cursed the monster in advance and let it go rampant instead of controlling it.”
“Alright, let’s turn it around: if Velita had been a powerful magician to begin with and encountered something like the starting incident, she could have saved herself further suffering by teleporting away and unleashing the monstrous revenge from safe distance. Magicians can teleport, can’t they?”
“Generally they can, but the ability can be blocked and there are exceptions. I can cast basic spells, but I cannot open portals.” The witcher was suspicious enough to have a look at all facets and have another very close look at Velita. For the moment he was just damn glad that he had tolerated that number she pulled on him and not turned things over.
“But you’ve got other defensive and aggressive means, even superior to court magicians schooled in Ban Ard?”
“I’ve got what it takes to do my job. Don’t you know that the murderer is always the gardener?”
Gernot just gave it a snort. Their search of the main road had turned up nothing new and nothing had jumped them. “Let’s take this path up to heaven’s meadow and check if the plough is still up there.” He pushed Cricket to a quicker pace. On two thirds of the hollow way that climbed the hill, the dogs got excited. “Yes, Adda I know.” He calmed her and turned to the witcher, and pointed out the deep impressions of split hooves in the way.
“The attack started here. At least one of the oxes was injured, and then the ploughman was killed, about fifteen meters up hill. See, here he was dragged over the edge of the hollow. That’s Adda’s footprints, not wolves. Before she found him discarded on top of the small beeches, another thirty meters to the right, there were just shrub marks and blood to be found, but no footprints of a predator I know and the cross search turned up nothing. Let’s go and see what happened to the oxens, if it returned to its major kill.”
Up on the meadow were the slaughtered remains of two oxen next to a broken plough. Crows were picking on the bones and dragged innards around happily but rose with hoarse cries when they approached. The torn hides had been cut in sections and flapped open to cover the muddy ground full of boot prints. The innards where laying by the side in stinking heaps inflated in the past two days to half the size of an ox. “The plough’s blade is missing as well.” Gernot narrated. “Winter is coming and burial rites have to be paid. The farmers cut out what edible meat left on the bones and scavenged the plough for metal and unbroken spare parts. They trampled down any trace within the perimeter. No need to sit it out here tonight. I doubt that any large predator would return to such meager leftovers.”
“Heaven’s meadow, my ass.” Geralt rumbled.
“It’s just an old description referring to the scope of land. Nowadays, half of the ‘meadow’ is covered by forest. We’ve got a ‘hell’, too, which is actually quite nice.” The pack had found bits of rumen that still lay around and was about to get into a fight when Gernot pulled Cricket around to leave the slaughtering site in a wide arc. “Let’s go there and have a lunch break.”
They crossed a meadow, an orchard and a harvested field that should have been plowed then followed another path that lead down the woody hillside. Blocks of stone were covered in moss. By now, last night’s first frost had dewed to the last shadows and sprinkled the plant grow with millions of diamonds. Down in the valley, a fresh water well trickled out between two slabs of natural rock and was joined with more water coming from muddy black soil. Gernot dismounted and lead Cricket and the dogs to drink from the rivulet, then tied the horse to a tree and told the dogs to sit.
Then the hunter himself drank right from the well at the rock and emptied the water bottle from his belt just to refill it. “Serve yourself,” he invited the witcher, “Some people even come out here for the water. It is said to have healing properties.” – “Do you believe in that?” – “It’s just water. But I like the taste and it probably helped Velita. Since we’re already here I’ll bring her some.” Gernot sat on a rock, dangled his feet and pulled a stripe of dried veal from his pocket to chew on.
Geralt’s wolf-pendant did not react the slightest, so he considered it safe to drink as well. Then he unpacked cold roast and bread from his saddle bag and sat beside the hunter. “You are remarkably relaxed in the woods for someone who has seen the monster’s slaughter and believes in curses, gods and probably nymphs’ wells, too.”
“I’ve grown to feel more at home out here than what they’ve made of the mansion. I’m fully aware that there are things that cannot be seen, only felt – and that feelings can hurt as much as a wound does. We’ve got an old song here, in which a young man named Olaf returns from a winter ride in the woodland without a single wound and calls for his death bed because of an insulted nymphet’s touch. The forest can kill a man, but it will also sustain respectful people who accept all of its aspects. Like every winter is followed by spring.”
“Why don’t you just pack it in and leave? You could always hunt for your living.”
“I was born in the mansion and I’ve got my family there. My older daughter just entered the service of the countess as a child attendant and my younger son helps out in the kitchen until he is old enough to accompany me. My wife died in child birth and I cannot work and take care of my kids at the same time. They need a warm place to stay, where they are respected and cared for even in case I die. As a younger son, I have no inherited riches. I’ve got my weapons, Cricket, Adda and her daughter Bianca, but the Count holds the pedigree book of all the other dogs I breed and train. They are family as well. If I just went on the road with my bag of coin like you, I would not be able to find similar employment at another lord’s mansion. I would end up as a poacher in a frozen shelter or as mercenary dying in some other noblemen’s war, leaving my kids complete orphans. No, I’ve got responsibilities and I will help you to fix the aspect that bothers me greatly.”
‘I slay monsters for money… and humans once they attack me or what’s mine… but I doubt they will do me the favor, they are too small for that.’ The witcher stood and shoved the wax cloth into a saddle bag. “Mount up; we’ve got to find something fresher than those old tracks and bones you’ve shown me.” They followed the rivulet that ran aside the path that also widened more and more. There had been lumber works recently, tree trunks were piled up at the road to be transported downhill.
“The count let this area’s harvestable wood to the bath house for rent.” Gernot explained. “The villagers have stopped clearing out the branches because of the scary incidents, but bank meter is much more valuable and the bath house has a high consumption. If they don’t take care of their already cut wood, thieves will.” He counted while riding along the piles, checking the markings, adding them up in a little note book from his pocket to be transferred to the accountant book of the mansion. The cut wood equaled his count’s money. The mercenary that had come to fulfill the count’s defense duties would pocket even more coin than the ten half-trained misfits had cost.
They had just reached the end of the row when a crashing and yelling and whinnying came from down the slope. The witcher took helm. “Stay behind me and hold your dogs!” he drew his sword and threw Roach into full gallop. Once the mare had stretched into fluent movement, he drew an Igni over the length of his steel blade and made it glow red-hot like embers. Gernot followed suit, which was good to hear because the hunter had nothing on him to kill a leshen. Arrows wouldn’t even make as much as a dent. The witcher had to protect them both.
Reaching the incident site a moment later, the wagon had tilted when rounding the corner at chase speed, several trunks had been thrown off and stopped the stampede. One of the draft horses was going down with a fist sized puncture wound behind its short ribs, the coachman dove for cover under the trunks as they had formed an unreliable shelter between cart and the hollow way’s edge. The leshen did not yell or growl. It was a tentacle-ball of tan and green that swung, rustled and bustled through the treetops. Its eerie whispering silence was in complete mismatch with the ferocity of its slashes at its victim below. The lumberman had taken his axe with him, yelled at the monster above and was about to sell his life for as much as it was worth to him.
The monster was coming down, but the witcher still lacked in height and reach for a killing blow at the center, so he slipped out of the stirrups, supported his full weight on Roach’s shoulders when her front hooves where both on the ground and pulled his feet up on the back of the saddle. The mare dug her hind hooves into the ground to avoid crashing into the back of the wagon and broke out to the left when her companion jumped the giant Mikado-pile, ran up the most tilted tree trunk and slashed at the leshen from that altitude. One perfectly aligned strike of the glowing blade cut a piece out of the leshen that pulled itself up like a giant rubber ball and vanished between the treetops. Geralt jumped down, his boots landing nimbly on the still wiggling part he had cut from the ball. He cleaved it in half at the apex with a measured slice of his long sword.
Smoke billowed up, the unnatural movement ceased. The lumberman stared at the glowing red blade that was cutting into his death enemy and held his axe, but remained ready for any more tentacles coming at him.
“It takes fire to hurt a leshen,” the witcher explained matter-of-factly, “cold steel, even silver will not do. My name is Geralt of Rivia. I am hunting on behalf of the count under the supervision of Gernot Forester.”
From the back, Gernot had witnessed the seconds of demigod fighting moves and it left him in shock and awe. How could such a big strong guy move as swiftly and elegantly?
The witcher straightened up to call over the cart. “Stay close Gernot. It’s not dead yet.”
“And at speed, it doesn’t even scratch the top soil.” Gernot dismounted and Cricket stayed with Roach who pranced a circle, then calmed down.
The hunter took his pack of dogs over the fallen tree trunks. They where straining for the fallen horse first. “Shhh noooo, I know that’s dead. Hey Jack, you’ve chopped off the bloody arm,” he called over his shoulder “good job!” He made no move to pick up the blood-stained piece but went to the clean smoking remains the witcher had cut out of the leshen. He picked the smaller piece up - the fresher the better. He just trusted his dogs to max out their senses in the direction he gave them as their leader. In turn they would make intelligent decisions. “Adda, Crump, Freckles – look here, it’s a leshenee.” he hissed and bared his teeth and dragged the tentacle over the ground to up the attention and excitement of his pack, “come get the leshenee.”
“What are you doing? Your dogs cannot apport that thing.” The witcher dropped in.
“They are not trained to apport anyway but to find, pursue soundly and challenge to a stance. They are no packers.”
“They’re better not.” Geralt shrugged and let the hunter play his game.
Once Jack realized that there would be no more attacks on him, he exited the shelter to thank his savior. After what he had just gone through with a raging tentacle ball, he didn’t much notice mutated details like white hair and yellow eyes, but accepted him as a fellow biped who had saved his life and was on good standing with Gernot.
“I am Lumberjack from the Midville bath house. You saved my life, yet I have no idea how to pay a dept so great - if you were not to accept the law of surprise.”
“I won’t.” Lumberjack’s wide shoulders sank at the witcher’s response. “I’ll give you my reasons later, but let me put that straight: basically I get paid by your Count - from your tax money. On the way I agree that I saved your life as well as your cart and load.” Jack started shrinking. “That would be my employers…” – “Thought so. Here’s my best offer: for your life, it is two bottles of beer and two main dishes, wrapped for take-away. For the salvage of cart and load, I’ll assume the equivalent value of the load that has rolled off and blocks the count’s road, which would be like three bank meters. Payable in coin. And you’ll aid the reloading process with your remaining horse. Does that appear acceptable to you or do you have to enquire in Midville?”
Lumberjack couldn’t believe that he would come out of this as easy. If his boss denied to pay his part of the bargain because he didn’t ask beforehand, he could still afford it to step in. Most important: he would make it out of this wood before sunset and avoid any argument with the Count about the road crash he had caused. The lord was not known for leniency. “I can agree to this myself, Geralt of Rivia. Let’s get that load back up and out of this cursed wood.”
“Alright, Jack. So take rope and your surviving horse up that slope for leverage. I’ll help you to load. Gernot, gut the dead horse, dismantle it for transport and bury the innards that your dogs won’t eat. We won’t leave a mess here.”
“You hurt it, hurt it good. Do you plan to follow or bait it?”
“I doubt that it will return as long as it knows that I am around. And I doubt that it eats what it kills. It got many plant aspects, but no jaw.”
“I wonder why it kills then?”
“That is a good question. But for now, I worry more about the plant aspect of reproduction. We cut pieces from it, the ground is moist and I don’t want to multiply our worries. The bathhouse got an oven with high temperature. Incineration should prevent regeneration or reproduction.”
“Yes, sounds good.” Gernot retrieved the tentacle from his pack of dogs by telling them to sit calm and offered them an exchange with dried meat straps from his pocket. He strapped the remains of the leshen under the seat and against the cart’s tool box, afterwards he went to take care of the horse’s corpse.
Geralt and Jack worked as a team to lift and drag the fallen tree trunks back on the cart one by one. Jack was still constantly checking their surroundings while guiding the draft horse away from the cart, step by step sliding the trunk up a ramp that Geralt had improvised from thin trees Jack had chopped down with his ax and thrown down to the witcher. Once the load was back up, they secured it with rope and iron claws, tying up the broken side of the cart as well.
“We’re all going to eat nothing but horse meat all winter.” Gernot complained, unfolded a piece of waxed canvas and laid it out in crevice of the unbroken side of the cart and the trunks. The sun was sinking quickly, the meat he loaded up steamed in the chilling air. He then used the emptied horse skin to drag the remaining innards up the slope with the help of the draft horse and bury them in the hole that a fallen tree had torn from the ground. Jack chopped through the trunk and the circular root fell back into place, sealing the hole like a huge lid.
Geralt brought Roach in front of the cart. “Don’t look at me like that, you won’t get used to carting me around for long, we’re both too young for that.” He took the saddle down and helped Jack to shire Roach in front of the cart beside the draft horse. Together, they were strong enough to pull home.
Gernot mounted up and tailed the cart with a pack of very full and content dogs.
“You wondered if I would accept the law of surprise,” while Jack did the driving, his savior returned to his first question. “Or why I accepted a day’s meals’ value instead” – “I do wonder if I will regret something in hindsight. You are too good to be true.” – “I respect your life and your person to full extent, Jack. Some say, life is all up to fate, so let’s make a guessing game from it and see what would happen if I were to ignore my free will and let destiny take control.”
“A game?” the woodland ended and Gernot pulled up beside them on the still deserted main road. “Yes. Just make a guess then ask the bathhouse owner what’s new upon return, to see which fate I avoid by my request.” – “Hm, now you’ve made me even more curious. But we stick to the original deal, don’t we?” – “Of course, no worries Jack.” – “Speaking from experience, witcher?” Gernot asked – “Oh yes.” Geralt smiled smugly but would tell no more. – “I was about to take the road to the mansion, but now I’m curious.”
They pulled into the court of the bathhouse, causing quite a commotion in the upper stories. Brightly clad girls fluttered out on the balcony briefly, recognized Jack, greeted cheerfully and returned into the warmth of the house.
Jack stopped in front of an iron door inserted in the back of the stone walls that formed the basement. Above came two more levels of wood construction with verandas and balconies. “The fire opening, but let me check with my employer first.” Jack dismounted and went up a stair to the tavern room. The middle aged woman with too much makeup on her face left the taps to a blonde girl and went to meet him immediately, her bright scarf billowing behind her, “What happened Jack, I expected you hours ago?” – “Mistress Rose, I was raided by the monster just after loading.” – “Oh no, are you alright?” - “The Count’s huntsmen, Gernot and Geralt of Rivia saved my life. Can you come downstairs and meet them, they are in the court.” – “Sure,” she hushed, no need to evoke more curiosity from the guests.
“Tell me everything.” – “The cart’s side is damaged, Diamond is fine, but Lady was killed. Sir Geralt helped me to save the load as well, so we can replenish our fire wood.” – “That buys us some time, but at what price?” – “Don’t worry; they just requested the price equivalent of three bank meters in coin plus food and drinks. And they want to incinerate the remains of the monster in our oven.” – “They got it?” – “Wounded it, but it got away and will probably survive.”
Rosa stepped into the court yard and Gernot made introductions. Mistress Rosa extended her hand elegantly to the white haired knight in the black armor. “I’m honored to meet you, Sir Geralt of Rivia.” – He gave her a warm hand shake, “Just Geralt, I do work for my income.”
She went around the cart with them, taking account of damages, looked at the graying tentacles and even had a look under the horse skin. “You even saved the meat,” she wondered. “Well then, I have to go upstairs for the cash, so I can balance you for your efforts. Join me when you have done the incineration, the oven is at temperature already. I will see to the catering in the meantime, and send you the chef to put the horse meat into the cooling.”
“Who is the new girl at the taps?” Jack asked as he had agreed with the witcher.
“That’s the ploughman’s daughter, Bella. Her engagement with the cart maker’s son was terminated, so I took her under my wing.” Mistress Rosa noted a brief exchange between the three men. “Is there anything else new?” Jack inquired. – “No, It’s been a slow day. I cannot even balance your bill from my purse, but have to go upstairs.”
Jack’s face went blank as it dawned on him while Gernot cracked up. “See what happens if I just submit to fate? With my sort of luck, I prefer to make choices I can oversee.” Geralt pointed out gravelly. – “You haven’t even seen her yet.” Gernot winked. “You don’t know what you’ve missed; maybe it’s really a Belle?”
“Please explain, what’s so funny about Bella? Be nice! Remember: it’s her first day.” Rosa scolded lightly.
“I had offered Geralt the ‘law of surprise’ but he denied and just wanted food and drinks instead. I found that suspiciously modest.”
“You wouldn’t try to claim Bella as some sort of ‘child of surprise’, would you, Geralt?” Mistress Rosa was astounded. “She is not Jack’s child, but the deceased ploughman’s daughter - and my employee.”
“Of course not, Mistress Rosa, I value my freedom greatly and have no use for a young girl under foot. I just wanted to emphasize to Jack why I cannot take certain risks in my field of work.”
“You save your valor for the monsters,” Mistress Rosa laughed, “I’ll send Bella down to you with a beer in a moment.” – “Jack and I agreed take-away.” – “Don’t worry, it’s an extra ‘thank you’ for your service - on the house. If you keep it up, this town will soon be safe again.”
A young man in dark clothing had entered the courtyard through the gate that had left open and hid behind the pillars of the coach house, straining his ears. He knew Lumberjack and recognized the count’s huntsman from afar, but he had never seen the tall mercenary in dark leather armor who was having an animated exchange with Mistress Rosa. The Mistress left and Bella came out to the three men, serving them beer as they stood around and amused themselves throwing chops of wood into the glowing maw of the bath houses’ oven.
He tried to whistle, but Bella did not react. Instead, she flirted with the men, especially with the stranger until the cook came down and asked her to unload pieces of horse meat. She vanished in the house accompanied by the huntsman, while Lumberjack and the mercenary took care of the draft horses. He ducked as a saddle was thrown over a part of the barn’s construction. The mercenary went inside and the young man caught the door before it fell shut. He entered the dim lit hallway secretly. Carousing was heard from the tavern upstairs, low voices and sounds of water came from the tubs at ground level. He followed silently.
He had to find his love before she was sucked deeper into this whore house and lost to him forever. The even strides of the mercenaries riding boots where still audible. He followed this lead past the dance- and meeting hall, further up on the second stair. He had never been in that part of the bathhouse, where the girls had their rooms. The boots’ sound was lost under the noise of the tavern beside the staircase, but he continued in the direction, thinking how to prevent a sickening bargain from completion and save his Bella from this menacing stranger. He had to be ready for everything, drew his folding knife from his pocket and opened it as silently as possible. Once he rounded the corner, he found himself slammed into the wall by an armored fist and his right arm was twisted on his back. The knife dropped from his hand. “Tell me, what’s bitten you, boy?”
“Hand’s off Bella, you filthy brute.”
“If I was filthy, she would run me a bath – what’s your issue?”
Gernot just came out of Mistresses Rosa’s office and was taken aback by Geralt’s latest achievement. “What are you doing here, Jeff?” – “I’m looking for my fiancé, Bella.” – “She is downstairs in the tavern, packing up our meals.” – “Down at the tavern?” Jeff stiffened and Geralt slammed him back into the wall for good measure, “Not so quick. Rosa said you broke your engagement. Nevertheless you try to slink into her room at night?” – “I didn’t break the engagement. My father called it naught when she lost part of the dowry our parents had agreed upon. But I don’t care, I need to talk to Bella.” – “With a knife in your hand?” Geralt snorted, “I don’t think so.” - “Uhm.” Jeff fell silent. It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell the mercenary where he had planned to put that knife. “I’ll keep that for you.” Gernot picked up the knife, clicking the fine blade back into the handle. “I think his actions got something to do with jealousy.” – “I think he should have a talk with Mistress Rosa first. Let her decide if he gets to talk to Bella or if he needs time to sober up.”
Mistress Rosa was just locking the cash box in her desk when the hunter unexpectedly returned after a polite knock. Geralt came in manhandling a young guy and pushed him down on a chair Gernot had pulled away from the table. “Jeff? What are you doing here?” – “I want to talk to Bella, Mistress Rosa, and then to you – about her contract.” – “That is already signed.” – “It’s still a novitiate, isn’t it - she can still make decisions?” – “That’s not for you to decide.” – “I know, that’s why I must talk to Bella. I’m not like my father and I don’t want her to take any rash decisions in return to what my father told her.” – “What do you mean?” – “I still want to marry her.”
“It is not your fault, but you cannot marry because her family cannot pay up the dowry agreed before her father was killed. They have a hard time: widow Plougher and Granny moved in with the midwives and your father agreed to Bella’s younger brother as an apprentice cart-maker. While they managed to keep the farm house in the family’s ownership, it will be rented out to the Weaver’s to pay for the boy’s apprenticeship and Grannies upkeep, so there is nothing left to fill the gap. Bella has to stay somewhere, so I took her under my wing. In a couple of years, when the young Plougher has reached companionship and starts earning an income, another inheritance comes due or Bella proves successful under my tutelage, you can inquire again, but for now your father insists that you cannot remain locked up in this situation.”
“But I want to,” the young man’s gaze flickered as if lives depend on it. “It can’t all be zeroed because a few coins are missing?!”
“Well, not just a few from what I’ve heard. But it’s no use to throw a tantrum about it in my bathhouse. I’m not the one whose expectations you have to meet, but your father’s. I am just helping out. What do you do?”
“That is just why I must talk to her. I want to help her but from what I’ve seen, I no longer know if she still wants me.” He gazed at the mercenary who towered above. “And if she wants me, I need to ask her for time to earn money and fill the gap without my father taking notice.”
“Hm.” Mistress Rosa cocked her head, “why so hasty, Jeff?”
“I don’t want him to take her away from me.” Jeff blurted out, not noticing the silent ‘didn’t I say it’ – ‘eye roll’-exchange of the grown men above his head.
The witcher crossed his armored forearms. “I wonder where you take your wisdom from, you fucking moron.”
“Gernot, could you please fetch Bella? I think the two of them have to clarify something.” The hunter nodded silently and left. “Now Jeff, you’re a cart maker’s companion and heir, aren’t you?” – “Yes, sure.” – “Since you’ve seen our damaged cart already, do you care to do some repairs on the side?” – “Of c….”

Geralt saw the happy look on the young man’s face and caught him by the shoulder, “Jeff will think about it, if confidentiality and a workspace is guaranteed and after a close inspection of the damages to provide you with a proper calculation, Mistress Rose.”
The door opened and Bella flew in, throwing herself into Jeff’s arms.”I love you Jeff, don’t you ever worry…” Apparently, Gernot had filled her in on the way.
Rosa harrumphed, “I’ve put Bella’s contract on the desk in case you want to look up things like scope of works and payment. And since we’re already on the details, do you have an idea what happened to the old cart horse your dad kept using for the lighter works?” – “Mom left it in the stable with the Weavers. They don’t really need it but promised to take care of it until she can sell it to a fair price. The horse trader wasn’t helpful in the present situation.” – “Then we should talk about that, too, once you’ve sorted out yourselves. I’ll leave you for a while and see to my other guests.”
Mistress Rosa took Gernot and Geralt out of the office and around the corner. “Thanks again.” She handed Geralt a pouch with his coins. “I think Bella and Jeff can sort it out. Although I might have to kiss a good girl good-bye in seven months, I’m happy for them and they will be good help until their baby is born.”
“Oh, that’s why she behaves like the sun is shining out of his ass.” the witcher muttered while shaking his head.
“Don’t be so harsh, Geralt, there is something beautiful about young love.”
“I need love like a knife in my back, like you need pestilence and small pox. Let’s go home, it’s late…” The witcher took three strides at once downstairs.
“…and not every house is as well-managed as Rosa’s.” Gernot kissed Rosa’s cheek before he followed.
They left Midville just before the gates closed and rode up to the mansion. “What’s the single light up there?” Geralt asked and pointed up the slope. “That’s our swineherd’s hut. He’s one of the few who continue to work in the woods and strangely, he didn’t lose a single piglet so far. But he’s a bit strange in the head, not to mention the smell. We can visit at daylight tomorrow.”
“Hm.” Geralt compiled the information in his head, sifting through aspects, relationships and tracks.
“How do you plan to lure out the monster next time?”
“I don’t know yet. I keep in mind what you’ve told me about Velita and I ran no survey yet… But it sounds like all the cases in which the leshen killed are connected by certain aspects - like a larger iron mass - cutting into vegetation - quicker pace. I’ll check with the mansion’s steward.”
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sleeping Beauty Reloaded