Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

Sleeping Beauty Reloaded	By : dschinny Category: +S through Z > Witcher 2, The: Assassins of Kings Views: 1939 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Witcher, this is purely for fun, and not profit

Chapter List
- 27
- 28
- 29
Oct 11^thWednesday– Enter Iorveth - Day 7
Dusk of a Northern Kingdom
https://youtu.be/-dsQL1TJgLM
After joyful evening at the tavern, the countess slept in. They did not make as many miles as planned, and as noon approached, Gernot slipped the bow over his shoulder and nudged Cricket to the front of the coach to guide Kevin to the encampment place he knew from future journeys, a perfect place for a picnic. The guard drove the coach to the side and stayed the horses as he was shot from the under bush. Gernot didn’t see it, just heard the thrum of a bow’s sinew, the special sound of an elvish twin bow, the dull sound of the body it hit before the hard knock. He dove for cover at the coach and signaled the women to close the curtains. No aim, no shot. Soft fabric could catch an arrow that slammed through hard surfaces, “Hold your arrows, we mean no harm!” He yelled over the coach’s roof “Do you want us to leave or to stay?”
“Stay.” A tall dark haired elven in a green and grey rag tag clothing but finest weaponry emerged from the bushes.
“Iorveth himself.” Gernot was surprised, “Greetings,” he was damn glad he had called a truce already. He could keep the average village brute at bay with Kevin’s help but this was an entirely different challenge. The leader of the Scoia'tael’s was a damn war force that appeared out of nowhere, not a skirmish. His aim was absolutely flawless and he moved stealthy in the woodland. Gernot wondered how long they had been tracked without him noticing. Chances were that Iorveth did not venture alone, but had a whole gang of elves around him, just waiting for their leader’s command to kill them on the spot.
“What brings you here? I thought you had your lair on the Temerian side?” Gernot tried to strike up some sort of conversation. Iorveth was not just a robber even though he had taken to stealing and murdering since king Demavend's hate on the elven race had made a normal life impossible for many elves in the aedirnish lands. Iorveth was also said to have entered a pact with the usurper of Nilfgard once who had in turn sacrificed the elven’s interests for his own troupe’s salvation and a peace treaty and the Redanian Marshal Raupeneck had massacred the elves of Loc Muinne.
Iorveth liked to hear himself talk and had political ideas for the elven folks.
Gernot preferred to listen to his words and not the resounding of his bow.
“Dh'oine borders mean nothing to the elvish. We have come to investigate your Lordships desecration of a natural monument near that newly sprouted settlement you refer to as ‘Midville’.”
Cricket pranced at the smell of blood and Gernot got a look the driver’s seat. Kevin’s neck was nailed to the plank in his back, his artery and part of his spine cut by the extreme power of the elvish bow. There was no help he could give him, definitely. “New? Midville is at least one hundred fifty years old. My name is Gernot Forester. At least four generations of my family lived in Midville.” So they had been identified, which wasn’t difficult by the coats of arms on the coach as well as Kevin’s colorful tunic.
“I’m six times older than your city and the monument has been there before the merging of spheres. You are so ignorant to call it a ‘forest’ and define that by those envisioned borders of your lordling.”
“Those borders serve to protect the f… woodland. If nobody had defined rules and everybody would just take what fits on the cart or into a backpack, very soon there would be no wood left. It’s better to organize the use, replant the clear felling and generally make sure that no more is taken out than it grows back.”
“Your dh'oine settlements sprout up everywhere and cut into the woodland. That was never a problem with the elves, but you humans procreate like vermin that swarms until nothing beautiful remains standing. The replanting you mention restores just a very small degree of the original variety of plants and animals and mushrooms.”
“There are a couple of elves who lead a good live in Midville.”
“Let’s say they manage to survive because of their superior abilities.” Three more elven warriors emerged from the bushes, “Now tell me, what have we’ve got in that coach.”
“It’s the Lady of Midville, travelling to see her mother, her Lady-in-Waiting and two Handmaids.” Gernot would not tell Anne was his daughter, or they could use that against them. Iorveth had a lot of experience with humans and their treacherous ways. He had not been kidding about the forest and destruction. Iorveth did not want the countess; what he really wanted was to punish the responsible count and his forester and humankind in general. He could not do much about it than keep Anne as uninteresting as possible and out of the line of the elven leader’s wrath.
“Where is the Count?” – “At his mansion in Midville. He will be honored to receive you and then you can address your concerns during his audience. The countess is charitable and hospitable as well, but she cannot help you in regards of rulership. I will offer you hospitability if you just let her travel on to Gubta.” How he would manage with the driver shot was an entirely different question. First they had to get away from this blood thirsty intellectual terrorist.
“We will see. Dismount.” Iorveth watched the dh'oine females climb out of the coach. The first was wearing a brocade robe, grey hair in an artistic up do, she had a good look around then turned and extended her hand to help the second woman dressed in an even more splendid brocade robe that rose over her belly she patted and stroked, the third was a young woman in grey wool, a white apron and bonnet who ducked out and scrambled to the side. The fourth was a young girl in a green woolen robe and a thick braid of chestnut hair down to the hips. This last one knew how to move and was still a relatively pleasing sight.
Dh'oine skin was generally bad looking and the thick, colored makeup the nobles preferred to smear on their faces made it worse. Human females grew ugly by the end of their second decade, as they sprouted hair everywhere and their bellies popped up on a yearly basis, which was the reason for the human overpopulation. It seemed that they just couldn’t help it, though Fredhiana had showed them methods to regulate or at least plan human procreation and hoped that word would get around. Fredhiana had also good contacts to the one human who took out the worst of that human population and efficiently put an end to the superfluous human reproduction in his brothel.
The girl did her best to vanish at the far end of the line up, but Iorveth would keep her in mind. She was not just young enough to catch the eye; she also had a familiarity with the dh’oine archer that accompanied the coach and reacted decently at their take-over. Features, hair color, straight gaze... He would find out how far that went.
Gernot dismounted as well to get in between the elven rogue and his lady and establish civilized talks among them, “My Lady, may I introduce Iorveth, the elven leader of the Scoia'tael from Floatsam in Temeria.”
“Iorveth,” she addressed him without a greeting, but put on a patient tone for diplomacy “It seems that you murdered my guard and block a public road. What is the meaning of this?”
“The elvish have lived in the woodlands of the Pontar valley before the merging of spheres and I am their leader. While the aen seidhe have greeted the dh'oine newcomers in a friendly way, the respect has not been mutual. To get to the point, I am investigating a case of destruction of a natural monument on my territory. I am aware that you dh'oine are careless in general and too many to address each personally. Therefore I start at the top of your hierarchy, the local nobility.”
“I am of noble blood and married to the count of Midville. I run his mansion, but I have zero influence on the outside. I cannot see what I could possibly do to help you, so why do you keep me from travelling? Is this about an imagined road toll or something else?”
“I already mentioned that general lack of respect. You will help me to instill some respect again by staying with my men as a hostage while I take an ‘audience’ with your spouse and make sure he pays for what he has done, ordered or tolerated. I am sure that will help him to understand my point.”
“You want to take us into the wood with you? Impossible, she’s a Lady!” the lady-in-waiting tried to interfere. “King Demavend will hear of this!”
“I never said all of you.” Iorveth signaled a man to take a firm hold on Gernot, and then turned back to the lined-up women. “We take the count’s heir within that woman. You,” Iorveth had a quick exchange with the warrior who had checked the old woman’s teeth and wrinkled his nose at the black decay in her molars, “won’t keep us up.” The elven warrior tried to stab the lady in waiting, but his blade got stuck in the steel corset underneath the brocade robe so he redirected his knife to slit her throat. That killed her as quickly but it was a lot messier.
The handmaid beside screamed hysterically at the dropping of bloodstained pearls from the lady’s necklace and had to be held up by his third man who nodded at her strength as well as her generally pleasing shape and scent. Iorveth continued, “A handmaiden to help the countess. The girl,” he noticed that the youngest one had not screamed and was about to finish his line with, ‘because she won’t be trouble.’ But the girl had just jumped out of line, ran past him and attacked the elven warrior who held the dh'oine archer with a short knife she had pulled from the folds of her long robe. If every traveler had shown that sort of determination in the same instant, Iorveth would have found himself in trouble.
The archer slipped out of the hold the elven warrior who had to defend himself against the well aimed stab of the girl. But the dh'oine did nothing to evade the situation, just threw his arms around the girl. “Dad, run!” she cringed and yelled but he just pushed her down on her knees and covered her with his own body against the elven warrior’s saber, “Stop it, Anne.”
“Wise decision.” Iorveth approved and signaled his warrior to stand down and guard the little wild cat and her father with his long blade.
“But...” – “No. We are hunters. We do not kill humans or elven or dwarves. Stay calm and let the Count sort it out with Iorveth! It seems that the king of the wilderness feels stepped on somehow. You are not afraid to stay in the wood for a couple of days, are you?” – “No, just…” her eyes wandered towards the bloody heap of brocade that had been her superior a minute ago – “Look at me, Anne.” – “You are not afraid. You can do this. For me.”
“Take that knife from her and disarm your daughter carefully, so my men won’t have to touch her. I’ll just get myself a horse and then the two of us will ride to Midville. I will meet your Count and enjoy his hospitality.”
“Did I get that right, you guarantee for my daughter’s safety and wellbeing as I accompany you to talk the Count of Midville?”
“Yes. Your daughter will be returned to Midville after the trial. She will not be punished for whatever outcome the trial takes. While she is held hostage, she will be responsible for her own deeds only. But if I do not return or if I am injured while I enjoy the count’s hospitality, fate dictates that you won’t see any of them again.”
Iorveth did not mention that depending on the outcome of his investigation, he would at least soil the countess thoroughly for the desecration of the holy well, maybe kill her to punish the count and take out his linage for the destruction he had caused. His men had not enjoyed female company for months and could have an entertaining night with the handmaid if they pleased. Fill that breeder up with elven seed before they sold her on the other side of the border in Flotsam, either as an exchange or to cover their expenses. The girl... he respected her family values and ability to defend. He truly hoped that she would not act up again. That she would obey her father who should be true to his word as well. After all, elven and human archers had some traits in common.
Gernot took back the knife he had presented to his daughter on her twelve birthday. She also gave him the sheath. He had to give her the things that were important in her present situation. Faith, valor and... he unbuckled his belt, slid the water bottle off and passed it to his daughter, took the bag with the dried veal from his pocket, let the elven warrior check it then handed it to her as well. Fire stone and iron and so on his daughter always had on her. He got the wrapped-up blanket from Cricket’s saddle and tied it to be carried over her shoulder with a length of rope. Once he had supplied his daughter to survive a frosty October night in the forest, he hugged her close. “Not the moment for heroics, show me I did not raise you stupid. Stay safe.”– “See you soon.” – “Farewell, Anne.”
In the meantime, Iorveth had tied his long black mane down with a red bandana. He took the grey horse out of the coach’s gear, grabbed the mane and swung up on the horse’s bare back effortlessly. His men could decide for themselves if they wanted to take the brown and loot the luggage before they got lost in the wilderness again, “Mount up, Forester,” he commanded.
Gernot mounted Cricket and fell in trot beside the leader of the Scoia'tael without another word. The elven had so many reasons to be pissed.
The downside was that a forester could do nothing to change that. No brutality Gernot could muster would ever convince this hero/terrorist. The upside was that for Iorveth, the count would have to come out of his wine cellar and negotiate …or else.
- 27
- 28
- 29
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sleeping Beauty Reloaded