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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
- 31
- 32
- 33
Oct 12^th – The Bleeding Well - Day 8
Witcher 3 - Words On Wind
https://youtu.be/DMgkhS1CRjc
When Geralt felt Velita stir in the morning, he cast a tiny Igni immediately to allow her to see that she was in her quarter and that he was with her. He was weary, but her movement had nothing stressed about it.
Velita did not even open her eyes as she shifted that nice butt across his groin and rolled on her back like a lazy cat. She snuggled her face between his warm thick pectorals inhaling deeply. Hair, scars, scent, ultimately Geralt. Maybe she had died and gone to a better place. If not, she did not plan to face up yet, enjoy a few minutes more without hurt.
“Hmm,” his deep voice droned above her head, “good morning Velita.” She dared to make eye contact and smiled, “good morning Geralt.” – “Care for breakfast?” he diverted the attention before his loins could pick up on her revel in an untimely manner.
She cringed briefly at the thought of getting up, walking, something going in or out of her, even if it was just food. It had been such a beautiful secure pain-free moment and she wanted it to last. “Yes, I should,” she admitted half-heartily.
Geralt rolled his immense body over to get a cup of cooled water for her to drink. She managed to hoist up herself against the pain that kicked in immediately and drank. He took the cup back and got her the apple from the makeshift table. She smelled the fresh fruit. It was good. She took a bite, chewed carefully. Then she suddenly stiffened. Something wanted out of her. “Could you pass me my clothing, please?” Geralt stood and she was in a hurry to get up, threw on her chemise and went right for the door. She nearly stumbled over her own feet but made it into her clogs and out, “I’ll be right back,” she called and pushed at the stable gate. Apparently, she did not want his company at that.
The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt OST (Unreleased Tracks) - Ard Skellig Village
https://youtu.be/Nye44KnLIXQ
The witcher got dressed unhurried. He would have carried her, but since she had pushed past him already, he let her restore another part of her dignity. If she did not show up by the time he had his boots on, he would go out looking for her, carry her back inside and get a night pot for next time. No reason to feel humiliated about such things. In that case, he would have to go looking for that elven healer the executioner had been searching for and who had left Iorveth about two hours ago. Otherwise they would be stuck here for a week – at least.
Geralt was at the stable gate when Velita came back from the garden, somewhat hunched, but by herself. He closed the gate behind her and helped her up on the wooden platform. “Sorry. It’s not so easy in the moment,” she excused herself and got a cloth to clean herself thoroughly. “Thanks for getting us water. I cannot carry as much as a bucket in the moment.” – “You are not bleeding, are you?” – “No. The leshen healed bleeding injuries.” – “How?” – “It slivered over it, absorbed the blood and then it stopped. But it wasn’t good to be connected… like that… I don’t even know for how many days. My muscles will take a while until everything is back to where it should be.” –
That side effect probably explained why the leshen’s healing property had remained unknown so far. “I’ve got clothing for you if you want to get dressed.” Geralt handed her the package. – “I should. I have to get the eggs into the kitchen.” – “You’ll find plenty. Cass wasn’t around for two days. The steward wrote a letter, they are in Midville with Fabian. We can prepare breakfast for the four of us. I already heated the kitchen oven.” Velita shook out the grey woolen outer robe and slid it over her head. It had a generous length and the white under shirt’s rich folds billowed out a bit as she tightened the adjustment straps. He had even included an apron and a leather belt with pouch and brass buckles and a counter weight that reached down to her knees.
She found a wrapped up parchment and read. Female slave, named Velita, 50 kilograms à 3.5 Orens; value 175 Orens, sold to the Lord of Midville etcetera. She turned the page and saw the release note and the count’s sigil. “That…” was not possible, she thought. The count’s plan for her had been to continue her daily chores and visit the basement twice a day so the leshen could screw her … But then count was dead, Geralt told her. The leshen had splattered the count’s blood and gore over her and discarded the body while she was blacked out. At least he had no longer been on her when she woke, but a stinking corpse in the corner where she had disposed all the dangerous rubbish.
Velita saw the witcher’s crocked grin. “What a generous nobleman, freedom in recognition of a special service.” – “It was. Even I have never heard of something quite a like.” – “Please don’t give the details to a general audience.” – “No details are necessary to counter a bounty on a runaway slave.” – “I did not run…” – “That was just an invention to make it harder for Gernot to find you. And to put the blame on somebody since the captain died the morning after I left.” – “Oh. So…” she wrinkled her forehead and tried to remember. Wasn’t that even before the leshen woke?! The count had never lost a word about his brother-in-crime, even offered her to heal or hurt the captain when she had to concentrate? What a shameless liar!
Geralt got her hair brush and sat beside her to brush out her entangled hair while he continued the narration. “The captain was buried already.” – “Is Gernot alright?” – “Let’s say he’s got other worries. Anne was taken hostage by elven warriors with a handmaiden and the countess. Her lady-in-waiting and Kevin were killed. Iorveth, the elven leader, promised Anne’s safe return. Fabian should be safe in Midville.”
“Yes, I think he is. Cass probably spotted a part of the leshen as we tried to slink into kitchen to scavenge something edible. I am sure that both Jun and Gene have seen me on my way out. I can understand how that looked to them, even the dogs hated me. They were so scared; they ran and left the dogs behind in the kennels. I tried to get away and feed them, but the leshen would not let go of me. It was so greedy, it would rather have left the dogs starve than releasing me for just an hour.”
“Hm. I’m glad that’s over.” Geralt shrugged and braided her hair so she could pin it up underneath her headscarf. ‘Length alone is not sufficient,’ he thought. In the end, greed had been the leshen’s downfall. - “What made you turn around, Geralt? It has been several days journey for you?” – “I missed you.” – “Oh…” she secretly doubted that. The witcher became absorbed in his missions like the professional he was. Out of contract he valued his freedom and had no lack of opportunities.
To Geralt, what he said was the plain truth. But he admitted that emotions were not defining his direction, not in relation with other, more public aspects, “Hector had followed me because he was worried about Gernot. And there is that problem with the well that brought Iorveth here. I cannot have folks run around and say I did a messy job.” His large hands tied a knot and released her braid. – “Of course not. This is very strange.” - Geralt passed Velita the key ring of the count. He had already used that to his advantage. Now it would help her to put food on their table and gain the respect of onlookers.
The key ring on a woman’s belt was as much a symbol as a sword was on a free man. “Thank you. I will take care of breakfast.”
The Witcher 3: Blood and Wine - The Mandragora Extended
https://youtu.be/psT_XFDTjHs
Velita got a basket and was on her way for the chicken box as Gernot opened the stable gate from the outside. “Don’t let me disturb you. I’ll just ride into Midville to see Fabian and inform the steward of the latest development. And take that stupid bounty off the billboard. It’s good to have you back, Velita.” He noticed that a maid’s robe had found the way onto her.
The witcher intercepted immediately. As much as Gernot probably liked her, he never had her and there would be no ‘back’ to slavery, “You can notify the Steward that Velita owns herself now. The Count decided to set her free instead of selling her to you, just before he died.”
“Oh. Yes, he should.” Gernot cut it short. The witcher and the hunter understood each other. If Geralt stopped toying with Velita and started acting on her behalf, it was for the better. He saddled Cricket while Geralt used the makeshift table to do the analysis and Velita went to gather the eggs for breakfast.
Velita shooed the chicken out into the first morning light, held herself up with a hand on the wooden racks, working very slowly. But at least she was standing upright, moved freely and did something useful for people she respected. When she came out, somebody tall, slim, dexterous and dark haired like Yun climbed down the ladder. “Good morning.” Velita greeted somewhat surprised. Had the stranger been up on the hay loft all night?
The man stood up where he had jumped down the last couple of steps. A huge bow with four arms swung in his hand, his long hair was tied back with a red cloth. Pointed ears stuck out underneath, a tatty gambeson reached down to his calves. An elven! His features were finely cut and his complexion even, but he looked at her with as much regard as if she was an insect he had never seen before.
Velita did not curtsy. She would probably fall over if she tried and this elvish archer had done nothing to be polite. “My name is Velita,” she introduced herself under his scrutiny. “I will go and prepare breakfast for everybody if you don’t mind. Geralt is still in the saddle chamber if you want to talk to him.”
“I am Iorveth. I will leave the witcher to his analysis.” The archer fell in step beside her, noting little bowlegged steps. ‘That dh’oine breeder has been fucked hard,’ he thought. Hector was already in the kitchen, mending the fire. “I need the fresh meat for the goshawk,” the elven leader announced to nobody in particular that he was about to get to work as promised. He was used that everybody jumped to do his bidding.
Hector remembered that Gernot was out with his set of key, they were stuck, unless… his gaze ran down Velita’s new dapper appearance. It made him smile for more than one reason, “Do you have the key to the cellars?” Velita put the basket on the table. Salty ham would not do for a bird of prey. “I think I have.” - “I will accompany you, I promised Gernot to feed the dogs.”
“They could use an extra.” Velita agreed and made it to the stair case, holding herself up at the wall, taking one step each. Hector carried the lantern and went with her, slowly. He could see she was not well. When they last met, she had taken care of everything in a blink. But then she had been locked up in a basement by two monsters. The witcher found one dead and threw the other out of the window to slaughter it in the court. Afterward he had taken to his quarter with the slave over his shoulder, just to return her as a free woman on the next day. That was a magical process to Hector’s liking - finally.
Velita had to try a couple of keys until she found the right one. She did not follow Hector further down in the cellar that was cooled by the surrounding ground. In winter, ice was shoveled into the cellar through openings near the building walls, but that had not survived the summer. The freezing night air fell into the cellar, all warmth vented out, but that was all the cooling the meat got. Hector helped himself to a side of ribs of a horse that the first leshen had killed weeks ago.
Upstairs, Iorveth wrinkled his nose at the hunter’s effort. “I’ll get a fresh chicken from the garden.”
“Do that if that brings back Anne.” Velita agreed as the arrogant elven left them to do all work. Let him run around in the garden to catch a chicken. Hector butchered the ribs so every dog would get a piece to prevent in-fights. Boiling water hummed. Ham, eggs, cheese, butter, lard, marmalade… Velita got the last loaf of bread from the pantry and cut up the first quarter. Small laundry, she would tackle piece by piece. But she could not handle a tub full of dough yet. If Cass could come up from Midville for the bakery, that would be a relief.
In the end, somebody had to bury the count and tidy up the wine cellar.
   -oOo-
The witcher was about to pack up tools and materials from the analysis as he heard the distinctive pang of an elven’s twin bow in the garden and scattering chicken. Afterwards he heard light footfalls, the popping of feathers, and an unsheathed knife: the elvish archer was at work, not in a fight. The witcher packed up his belongings before he went into the garden.
A goshawk had landed on the elvish archer’s gauntlet and they looked at each other like having a conference. The elven’s famous sensitivity: killing one fowl, talking to the next bird. They were agile, haughty and not automatically trustworthy, especially not when elvish interests were endangered. Fowl or dh’oine made little difference to this eleven and his changing allegiances.
The goshawk lifted off and vanished among the trees like a grey shadow. It would not have to hunt today and could take the message for the leader of the Scoia'tael.
“Did you find out something, witcher?”
“Yes.” The witcher answered, but would say no more. “Let’s go for breakfast,” he invited instead.
The Scoia'tael looked at the rest of the half dismantled chicken, and decided there was enough left on it for the kitchen.
Once Iorveth pulled his arrow from the carcass and handed it to the kitchen maid, Velita was not so glad about it. “What do you want me to do with this?” – “Food should not be wasted. Prepare it for lunch.” – “Is that an elvish practice of preparing fowl, to not remove the feathers before you cut into it - or was that just your personal impatience?”
“I gave you fresh food, but dh’oine can only complain. If you want to smell something ugly, that’s the meat in your cellar.”
“I will tidy this up so it doesn’t go to waste. Please sit and have breakfast.” Velita withdrew into a corner beside the oven to pluck the chicken before it grew cold and the job became impossible. Feathers stuck to the meat, sections of cut skin came off and the remains would end up in a soup at best. “If you do not want to do it right, Iorveth, next time you need a slice of chicken meat, just tell me the evening before and I will get you some.”
Hector chuckled. That gardener - turned stable hand - turned cook got principles he could connect with as a hunter.
“As you wish.” Iorveth didn’t care for animal produce if it wasn’t fresh, but would not say ‘no’ to scrambled eggs and cherry marmalade on a scone so old he had to wash it down with bramble leaf tea.
The witcher took his time to eat until Velita had put the chicken soup on the stove and sat by his side. “About the water,” Geralt continued to answer Iorveth question, “Analyze turned up that it is not poisoned, just tainted red by minerals. Mostly iron ore. In usual amounts, it would be drinkable, but I admit that the color is not pleasing and the fall out would stick to copper ware and corrode it. That would take some filtering.”
“I’ve not been around for that long, but the water in the stone trough was always crystal clear. It remained clear after Gernot explained me how to redirect the water into the stable. This change is unusual. I would like to have a look under the bulkhead in the court, to find out if the problem is somewhere within the piping.”
“As far as I have been told, it is not only on this compound, Velita.” Iorveth informed her. “It is connected to a magical anomaly and the leshen, similar to the one you grew in the cellar.”
“I can insure you; the leshen here did nothing to the water supply. Gernot will know where the well stone is up hill. The reddish minerals must to come from somewhere. I will get the tools for the water supply from the garden hut. Do you already have what you need for your investigation?”
“I’m not a plumber. I will get the inspiration as I see the problem.” Iorveth followed the dh’oine into the garden nevertheless. The witcher accompanied them, while Hector returned the food bowls from the kennel and took care of the kitchen.
Velita took the key ring to the lock, and then frowned. The red twines were missing. Not dried up or blown off the supporting grate, just gone. They had been in full bloom when Arya and Balon romped around in the garden?! She felt for remains in the dark soil. The stems were still there, but that did not feel like they had been eaten by chicken or rabbits.
“What are you looking for?” Iorveth was curious why the cook dirtied up her pristine white apron with soil and horse manure.
“I had planted some new kind of bean here. It had developed well despite the cold and had beautiful purple flowers. Now it is missing, just a little section of the stems remained in the ground.”
The witcher would not tell Velita in front of Iorveth where the rest of her plant ran off to.
“You’ve got all sorts of animals here?” Iorveth offered.
“Rabbits, yes. But they don’t cut twines like this; their sharp teeth leave pointed tips. This stub is flat with a bit of bark around that does not look eaten. It looks more like a tree that healed a cut off branch. But it was just a twine that climbed up in no time. It did not grow slow enough to develop bark or branches.” Velita shrugged “Sadly, I will never know what it was. Anyway, let’s get the tools.” Velita unlocked the door and found the box she was looking for. She hoisted the hoe over her shoulder, but the witcher took the tool box from her, not allowing her to carry anything heavy yet.
   -oOo-
They returned to the court, opened the cover of the water supply and checked the water. Red water ran in, red water ran out. Red sullage gathered on the bottom. It would take cleansing even after the running water was cleared.
“If I tried to put a framed cloth in here to filter out the contamination, it would spill over and the filter would need exchange within the hour. Maybe I can put something in the indoor trough to clear the drinking water. The rain water supply is limited. Before it is boiled it is not good for human consumption.”
Gernot rode up into the court, the steward, the priest and the carrier slaves accompanied them on the cart that was drawn by the white palfrey. The countess horse had never been used as profanely, but it was calmer than the fox who liked to prance around a lot like his late owner.
The steward recognized Hector and had been informed by Gernot that Velita was back. But he did not know what to make of the witcher’s re-appearance and that elven archer shouldn’t be at the mansion at all. The steward only knew his kind as terrorists and robbers from the no-man’s-land between Midville and Flotsam.
The steward dismounted nevertheless and followed Gernot to greet their so called ‘guests’. “You had a look at the water supply, Witcher,” the steward stated the obvious; “Did you come to conclusions?”
The witcher informed him matter of fact, “It is not poison, just meddled with iron ore. Dirty in a way, not good for consumption, but it won’t kill anybody who drinks it. We are looking for the origin of the iron ore.”
“Iron ore? That would be a useful asset to our district, and it is just washed out of the ground? Well, well,” Apparently, the steward was back on top of things, “but first things first. Gernot reported that the Count’s mortal remains were found in the wine cellar?”
“Yes. I found the body. A leshen killed him days ago.”
“So it is true, a leshen – here, within our mansion?”
“Yes. From the traces, the Count regenerated it with the wine as fluid and nutrition. It grew quicker than he expected, and finally it killed him.”
“And Velita? The count has been looking for you, where have you been, slave?”
The witcher intercepted, “The count knew all the time where Velita was. He had even issued a document to free her, but preferred to keep her around for a little longer.”
“Why should he do that?”
“Maybe he thought he could use her more efficiently for the special service with the leshen, or to shed all the responsibility he had for her as his subject.”
“What about the trace in the garden? That proves this slave left and was on the run. You brought her back here since you heard of the lord’s death, to use the opportunity, isn’t it, witcher?”
Gernot took over, “That second trace was manipulated. I saw Anne that morning, she had been ordered to scrub the floor with vinegar to cover up the true trace that went down into the cellar. Your wife disrupted the search as well.”
Hector agreed, “The witcher did not take Velita away with him. I went after him to the fording near Vergen and she was not with him. The count was found after the witcher killed the leshen. I saw she was here, at the mansion.”
The steward adjusted his direction fluently, “Oh had I just found that experiment in time, I would have put an end to that before such a tragedy happened!” he whined, “And who are you, elf, and what brings you into this fine gathering that put an end to the monstrosities’ terror?”
“I am Iorveth, leader of the Scoia'tael.”
“Gernot told me that the elvish request an investigation on the grounds and have taken the Countess of Midville and Anne Forester hostage, is that true?”
“The countess guarantees for my safety and will be transferred to another location until my return. Anne Forester is escorted back to Midville as we speak.”
“The Constable of the City Guard wrote a letter to inform Kind Demavend of the recent development in the fiefdom of Midville. He will send reinforcements to keep the property safe until the fiduciary’s arrival. He entrusted me with the clean-up efforts.”
The witcher just shrugged “The count’s body is in the wine cellar. You may want to start there.”
The steward agreed, helped the priest off the cart, but returned in a blink, “Will you accompany us, witcher?” – “For a fee.” – “Just a brief moment, to make sure it is safe.” – “It is safe, just messy.” But since he had already paid himself in that regard, the witcher accompanied the steward downstairs, but did not stay while the steward puked out his guts at the gruesome remains.
Once the steward and the priest had vanished in the mansion, the carriers jumped down to join Gernot and Velita. They did not ask again where she had been. They had heard and seen enough. All they wanted to know was if she was alright? “It will adjust itself, I guess. The count freed me and it will not happen again.” – “You are going to leave?” – “Yes, I cannot stay with the steward, he remembers how things were. I need to get away before that fiduciary’s arrival.”
Iorveth tried a smile, “I could take you to Flotsam, on the Temerian side.” – “Thank you, but I think Geralt already has a plan.” Velita was not sure what it was, but she did not trust the elven to take care of her. The woman whose clothing she was wearing; she had just vanished between the countess and Anne and nobody mentioned her or the lady in waiting. It was dangerous to not belong, to not been missed by anybody in the world. With Iorveth she stay a commodity, with Geralt, she hoped to become more than that.
Gernot went to take the palfrey out of the cart’s gear and into his partition. He invited Iorveth to follow him to the stable and saddle the horses.
“Guys, I guess we need shovels again,” Choi said. – “I’ll hand them out, just let me lock the bulkhead and gather the tools.” She did and pushed herself up with a groan. Seeing she was not well, Yun picked up the box for her, thinking briefly how deep that symbiosis had gone. Since that scene in front of the fountain he avoided to put his mind on her body, avoided to hurt or harass her in any way. But he could not make the picture unseen; Velita on that corridor, enchased by moving plant growth.
Velita unlocked the garden hut. “It would be so practical to keep it that way.” Pike took the shovels and threw Choi and Gene theirs. “I’ll even shovel in a Count every day for that.” – Choi was a bit more careful than Pike. “Make that weekly and I’m in.” – “I cannot tell if the victims of the couch raid will be buried here.” – “Not to worry, we can start shoveling. They won’t be allowed into the count’s family grave, no sir.” The carriers wandered off to the graveyard, “There is better company to be found anywhere.”
   -oOo-
The witcher returned from the cellar some minutes later and was joined by Hector who was done in the kitchen. They found Gernot and Iorveth in the stable. He saddled Roach while Gernot got Cricket ready. Iorveth denied to saddle the Grey, just accepted a halter on his horse to make it stay at the trough while he shuffled his feet and waited for the hunters and the witcher to finish their manhandling of animals. At first, the Grey had tried to block out Iorveth’s commands, puzzled at this new light weight and the absence of spurs that dug into its flanks. The grey had balked, but the new rider stayed on top like glued, his touch remained firm in the signals but easy otherwise. Grey soon understood that things went different now and reacted very well to the signals the elven’s legs transferred.
The witcher concluded that the small distance was ideal to find out if he could transport Velita on horseback. She liked Roach and wasn’t the whiny sort, but it was one week’s journey to Ellander. Up to Ban Ard, it would be five weeks on horseback if they took it slow.
Velita returned from the garden, avoided Iorveth’s Grey prancing around in the court and stepped up to Roach’s stall, wondered if she could help. “Get ready, you’re coming with us.” Geralt announced. - “Ahh?” Velita turned to look down the aisle. “You mean the cart? Gernot has just put the palfrey away?” – “No, you’re going to ride.” – “Which horse?” - Gernot wondered as well. They had considered it before but now the situation was different. “I don’t think that steward would part of the Palfrey under the conditions. Especially not since Iorveth has taken the Grey.” – “With me then.” Geralt concluded.
“Oh,” Velita looked up at him, then down herself. Last time she had been riding a horse, it had been the Grey. She had been bare foot, clad in a burlap bag that rode up her thighs. The shameful display and constant friction had inspired the captain to take advantage of her upon arrival. She was already hurting, she did not want…
Stop, she wanted to get away! She needed to…
But the new robe was not equipped to straddle a horse either. Everybody would stare at her, not to mention her wooden clogs would fall off. She considered sitting side wards on Roach’s croup like riding-out in her late teens with her spouse, “I wonder if I can still do that,” she mused. Roach was strong and wide and she would cling to Geralt’s back, but how to get up there at all? “Gernot, could you please help me up once Geralt is seated?” – “I will. And I’m going to see if I can find riding pants for you upon return.” – “Thank you. For now I’ll improvise.” Velita vanished in the saddle chamber to get her coat and tie the clogs to her feet somehow.
The witcher had expected Velita to part her thighs willingly. But with the dapper appearance, she had developed a new uptightness. Geralt tied Roach to the trough outside and went to check on Velita and get his luggage. She sat on the edge of the platform, tying her clogs to her socked feet with crossing leather straps. “Sorry to keep you up Geralt.”
He saw her hands shake, sat beside her and pulled his saddle bags and the rolled-up blanket over the polished floorboards. “You can sit in front of me. Roach is strong enough to accept my weight sliding back a bit. I will hold you.” – “Uhm,” she pointed, “these skirts… aren’t wide enough.” - “I won’t let you sit where I cannot catch you until you’ve got the hang on riding. I’ve got my mantle for your decency. Wrap yours up and strap it on top of my blanket. It might get cold in the evening and I need my saddle bags and analyzing equipment.”
“Yes, Geralt.” Velita slid on the platform on her knees to get two more ribbons, hitched up the hem of the woolen outer robe and tied the chemise up in a wide horizontal fold so the hem came up to her knees. That would hopefully prevent tears and allow some linen fabric to remain between her bare butt and the leather while riding.
Gernot monitored her cooperation with stony face, stood and slung the saddle bags over his shoulder.
Velita unhitched her skirt and wrapped up her coat with the other ribbon. She did not mind if Geralt savored the view. To be honest, most of the men outside would see nothing new. She shrugged, stiffened and held the door of the chamber open for Geralt. “Will we return in the evening?” she wondered.
“If it goes well,” the witcher said. There was no telling her that if things went bad and the enraged Ain Seidhe started shooting, nobody would return.
The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt OST (Unreleased Tracks) - Versus Caranthir
https://youtu.be/vF39rBGDNWk
There was a commotion in the court, hoof beat and barking. Down the stable aisle, Arya gave loud as well. Velita followed Geralt closely as he pushed one wing of the stable gate open and marched out like every day. She slipped through under Roach’s neck and calmed the mare while Geralt loaded. The court was filled with a dozen horses; a mix of riders in the colors of Midville and the browns and greens of a noble man’s hunting party.
Nobody had closed the main gate behind the carriers who had been sent to the graveyard and the cart was still standing in the middle of the court. Gernot and Hector had mounted up and were advancing the newcomers at eye level. Iorveth had nimbly avoided all parties by turning the Grey into the area beside the stable that lead into the orchard. The noble man let Balon loose. The huge dog sided with Hector immediately. “Greetings, Lord Bearstone,” Gernot lifted his hat briefly, “Constable.”
“Greetings, Gernot. It’s good to see you well, both of you,” the Lord gave Hector a stern look. “I have heard of my neighbors’ recent problems and I’m here to help.”
“Thank you, Lord Bearstone. The steward has returned and he is in charge of the mansion. He will know best what has to be done in the time until the fiduciary’s arrival.”
“Ah yes, the paperwork. I’ll take care of the practical aspects for my grand nephew until that is done. Where can I find your steward? He should give me a first overview.”
“The steward is in the basement,” Gernot answered, “preparing the Count’s laying-out,” he added a polite warning that the situation was private.
The constable reacted immediately and sent two of his guards to fetch the steward and keep the boosting relative in the court. It wasn’t just a formality; it was the king’s decision that should not be anticipated. Especially not on the basis of an heir who wasn’t even born.
In the meantime, the witcher had tied his saddlebags and the bundled blankets and mantle. He would have preferred to introduce Velita to riding slowly, but this was not the time for experiments. Geralt held out his interlocked palms to help Velita to step up into the saddle without adjusting the stirrups. He would need them if the situation turned out bad and he had to fence their way out. He pulled the reins loose from the iron ring, passed them up to Velita who slid forwards to the saddle’s bow and made herself as thin as possible. Geralt pushed the tip of his boot into the stirrup and mounted up behind her. His soft black mantle fell around them. He hugged Velita close and turned Roach immediately to strengthen Iorveth’s vector onto the main gate.
Gernot heard Roach’s heavy hoof beat behind him and knew the witcher was ready to go. “If you don’t mind, we were to attend to another issue with the mansion’s water supply in the woods. The steward will be with you shortly.”
“Hector, with me,” the Lord Bearstone called off his personnel and evened out the numbers in the courtyard.
“See you, Gernot,” the follow huntsman fell in line with his lord and gave an explanation that the water had turned red.
“Constable.” Gernot nodded and nudged Cricket to move around the horses the guards had handed to their colleagues. Iorveth and the witcher fell in step with the Midville huntsman as he came around and went for the main gate, keeping his guests in front of him.
“Who was that?” Lord Bearstone inquired. – “That was Geralt of Rivia,” Hector answered, “the witcher who killed two leshen,” he went into detail to avoid talking about on the other riders. – “And the other?” – “That was Iorveth, leader of the Scoia'tael.” – “But he is a wanted man in Aedirn as well as Temeria.” – Hector nodded and stuck with facts, “We don’t have the means to hold him. His squirrel gang got the countess.” – “Who’s the woman the witcher took on his horse?” – “Velita, the gardener.” – Lord Bearstone had already pondered where to put this face …and nice heels. “Your friend got interesting company,” he concluded.
Hector tried an explanation, “Gernot has to settle a matter with the elvish peacefully to get the countess and her surviving entourage back to safety. Iorveth is worried about the water and the witcher’s analyze turned up its not poisoned. They will check it out and return.” – “They better return our women as well.” Lord Bearstone wrinkled his forehead. Without the countess’ belly in reach, his influence in the fiefdom of Midville was naught. But if he held the mansion and the countess returned to her usual surroundings and they could petition together before the king named somebody else, and his regency for the next decade was well in reach.
Lord Bearstone dismounted and kept Hector close while he greeted the steward and asked all sorts of questions. Another man put the hunting company’s horses into the stable. The constable put his guards on duty and followed the nobleman hesitantly. The steward showed the lord of the neighboring castle in and Lord Bearstone made himself at home in the living room just like a relative of the deceased count could.
“Now… where are the count’s house servants?” Lord Bearstone inquired.
    -oOo-

Child of the Elder Blood
https://youtu.be/Jvjh2wBA3Lc?list=RDMM
Velita had not been a house servant, though she was dressed like one and carried a key ring that would have made the lady of the manor proud.
None of that helped in her present situation. She was ground into the saddle’s bow by the witcher’s armored bulk. Under the nobleman’s scrutiny, she made herself as small as possible. Once Geralt had taken up the reins, Velita clung to Roach’s mane. Roach’s trot shook her thoroughly; without stirrups she could not adjust to avoid the hard shoves. Without Geralt’s arms framing her, she would have slipped down to one side or the other.
The witcher could smell fear and pain coming from Velita. Nevertheless, he did not slow Roach’s confident stride. He just hoisted Velita up against him a bit to spare her from his weight and to keep his thighs mobile to signal Roach into a fluent gallop. A brief moment of distress was preferable to a guard’s crossbow bolt or a hunter’s arrow in their back once the newcomers jumped to the conclusion that Iorveth was an outlaw terrorist and the mutant witcher tried to abduct a fair handmaid. Thankfully, they were not followed. Once they reached the branching that lead uphill to the holy well, they were safely out of sight of the mansion.
Geralt called a halt immediately and slid back in the saddle to allow Velita to adjust and catch her breath.
Velita supported her hands on the saddle’s bow and tried to take the weight off her neither region. “Please hold it… just a moment,” she groaned with tears in her eyes. Under normal conditions, she could have managed the pressure of Geralt’s hips for quite a while, but in her present weakened state every step hurt badly as it tore into her sore innards. “I’ll go wherever you want, but could you please let me walk?”
“You’ve done well,” Geralt dismounted fluently, “Let me help you,” he held her around the waist as she slid out of the saddle. She winced as her ankle caught on the ridge and her leg was stretched for just a brief moment. Once her feet touched the ground, she held onto the stirrup to remain standing and inhaled deeply, trying to breathe away the pain.
“We don’t need her.” Iorveth turned the Grey and bristled, “If she cannot ride, just let her walk home. Her place is in the kitchen.”
“Velita’s place is with me until she finds a new home, out of harm’s way. Feel free to ride ahead with Gernot. He knows the way.”
Gernot nodded briefly. The earlier Iorveth saw the well, the smaller the chances of pursuit by the constable or the neighboring lords became. In the wood, he could play cat-and-mouse and hide Iorveth for as long as it took to retrieve Anne.
What Lies Unseen
https://youtu.be/PocKutHd-Fc
The witcher kept his amber gaze on the elven until Iorveth and Gernot had vanished up hill, his face stony. In the meantime, Velita managed to stand on her own accord. She had accepted the pain to get away from the men’s stares without a sound. She accepted that she could not ride, but she would walk.
He could respect her for that.
Velita fell in step beside him. Her steps were short but even. They passed Jack’s lumber pile, there were fresh wheel traces and skid marks proving that life went on in Midville. The path was joined by a red rivulet. Geralt squatted down briefly. Red sullage tainted the stones at the bottom.
“It’s red like the well at the mansion,” Velita wondered, “despite the distance.”
“There could be connections.” The witcher straightened up and looked down on her, inhaled deeply. It smelled nothing like her. Maybe it was just iron ore. Maybe he brought back a sacrifice to where the altar had been, to where a curse had been spoken.
“How?”
“It is probably a single water reservoir in the ground.”
“If it is iron ore indeed and it is the same source that spills the red mud here and at the mansion, I do not understand how Iorveth can suspect Gernot and you?”
“Why not?”
Velita squatted down, dipped her fingertips into the fluid and rubbed the sullage off the gravel in the trench between her fingertips. She showed Geralt the red smear on her hand. “Adding up this layer on the surfaces within this rivulet here and at the mansion… even dried to dust, that would be too much to fit into your saddlebags. I know you’ve got clothing and medication and shaving stuff in your bags… But the whole volume is exceeded by far. Even more red mud comes up as we speak. I think it comes out of the ground. I know you and Gernot were shoveling for a day, but that is nothing in relation to a mining business.”
“Iorveth mentioned the leshen and a desecration of a natural monument.”
“As far as I have seen, the leshen drank. A lot. But that just made it grow. I never saw it spill something. It just discarded hulls as it went.”
“I saw.”
“The Count he… it wasn’t me… he was on top of me... and then I think the leshen killed him.”
“I hurt you a moment ago - to save you from explaining the count’s death to anybody. Talk with me whenever you wish.”
“Thank you.” Velita continued to follow the path uphill. She looked at his stern, unemotional face as the witcher walked beside her. A desecration? Him or Gernot?! That wasn’t how she got to know them …as careful and respectful fellows. But how to prove it since nobody would take her word for them?
Another turn, another slope.
Gernot had described the place when he told the story of the leshen-hunt at dinner, the evening after Geralt left. In the background, tall stone pillars of rose to the top of the hill, higher than the trees. It was an impressive natural theater embedded in the hillside. Cricket and Grey were tied to a nearby tree. Dried mud splatter went over the path. Velita dipped her hands into that as well. It was dark top soil. Other splatters where grey of clay and sands. The red rivulet had its source in a puddle of mud. Above: broken branches, skid marks, explosion traces in the moss that covered the stones marked a battle field that reached from the well at the path up to the rocky pillars in the background.
Gernot and Iorveth sat on top of the bolder near the well. From the mud on the elven’s boot, the witcher could tell Iorveth had a first look around already. “So what?” Geralt inquired.
“This is the place, a natural monument,” Iorveth confirmed, “and it looks like shit.” Diplomatic common tongue wasn’t this leader’s strength.
“The victims of the leshen looked worse. And as you can see, it is still there. Some lumber work was done nearby, the moss is disturbed but that will grow back. All the remains of the leshen were picked up carefully by Gernot and me. You can take another search to convince yourself. There isn’t even a bolder out of place. The air is fresh and the well runs clear at the well stone.”
“The reddish contamination comes from below that water source. The ground is disturbed like somebody dug around there. What did you do?”
“We dug out another part of the leshen. It was stuck and I cast Ard to break it out. The mud was not red back then, as you can see from the splatters on the path. There was no iron ore to be found, just the usual humus and clay and sand. The expectable thing if you excavate anywhere in this lime stone region.”
“The rock is the remnant of a witness butte.”
“Yes. The hill is an escarpment outlier with steep sides, fields and orchards on top and a well at its bottom. It is a beautiful country side with woods and fields and settlements. I cannot tell you were the iron ore comes from. But I can insure you, neither me nor Gernot were messing around with iron ore. We just killed a rampant leshen and removed all parts.”
“Something must have happen here.” Iorveth repeated stubbornly. “Something more than this place could take.”
Gernot got to the point nevertheless, “The thing I cannot take is that you murdered two innocent people in cold blood and keep holding my daughter, Iorveth. We have done nothing bad to you or your people. I hosted you despite my personal risk, showed you around and now I think it’s time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain.”
“Anne is on her way, we will just have to wait until the afternoon.”
“What about the countess and her handmaid? When will you allow them to return?”
“I will see what I can do when I returned to my people. For now, the water doesn’t look any better than yesterday.”
“And how’s that the Countess or her handmaid’s fault?”
“It’s nothing personal.” One way or the other, they would pay the price but Iorveth would say no more.
The witcher listened to Gernot’s and Iorveth’s arguments impartially. Seeing that the late Count had already been replaced by the next nobleman, it did not make sense to argue for or against one of those. In the end, they were all the same: taxes, suppression and greed. If he had no contract, he steered clear.
HoMM IV / Lineage 2 - The Prayer/Goddard/Schuttgart - Cover by Dryante & Acarielle
https://youtu.be/2ypF5crob0I
Velita ambled along the bolder the men sat on. She hitched her outer skirt and apron to keep it dry and clean before she stepped in front of to the well stone where a clear rivulet trickled down into the moss to gather in the reddish puddle. From there the water continued to stream downhill. She washed the caked red mud off her fingertips before she cupped her hands to drink. The water was cold but not icy and tasted like the water Gernot had brought her. She filled her hands again to wash her face as well.
Iorveth still felt anger in his heart as he looked over the mess. Apparently nobody felt responsible. He listened up as Velita clapped her hands once, droplets splashing. He could not hear all she said while she bowed her head reverently. That sounded like a southern accent that had rough similarities with his own language, far more than the northern common tongue. ‘Thank you’ was a part of what she said.
Velita did not sit, that would have been very uncomfortable. She did not feel hungry, either. It had been a long time since she had seen wilderness. She savored her newfound freedom by wandering around the well stone. The ground was mossy between the rocks and she untied her clogs, pushed her socks into them and continued bare foot on the dew sparkling moss. She went uphill and around the place in an extending spiral. There were traces of fires. There were traces of fighting. But they all got swallowed in the moss that straightened up already. Her feet barely left an impression, like mice and weasels left little behind.
The holy well continued to spill its gift regardless who came along to drink. Where did the water come from, where would it go?
She returned up the path and stood in front of the bolder. “Please tell me, Iorveth: What would convince you to release the two women you hold?”
“Nothing you could do, Velita.”
“Just tell me what you wish for,” she nodded and smiled, “Your words will be listened to - not only by me.”
“Fine.” Iorveth spoke up, “I want this sacred place to be restored to its previous state and cleaned from all human influence permanently.”
“Come along then.”
Iorveth shrugged but stopped dangling his legs, “Where to?”
“Please come down to me, Iorveth.” Velita beckoned him to slide off the bolder, “Over here so I can show you.” In the end, the curiosity within the elven warrior won.
Velita set her clogs down at the bottom of the rock neatly and led Iorveth to the well. He stood beside her as she washed and filled her hands again. “Hold the water,” she explained patiently, “like a bowl.”
Iorveth clenched his jaw and shook his head.
She let the water drop, “Can you do that?” she invited and started over, “Hold your fingers really tight. See how the water runs in. Take a sip, like this… and then tell me what you see.”
“What?”
“It is with us already.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“I would never attempt such a feat. This is a holy well after all and you are Iorveth.” She smiled and inclined her head, “Whatever I can do, should be easy for you. It’s all in your hands.”
She took another sip, and then shook out her hands. She went to get her footwear and clean her bare feet at a wad of moss.
Iorveth took a moment longer. He held his hands together like the dh’oine had shown him. The water was clean, his hands were clean as well. He took a sip. Shook out his hands. Now his hands were cold and wet and his boots were getting wet as well. ‘Stupid dh’oine’, he thought and got angry at himself and then at her. Enough to challenge Velita instead of just passing by, “What was that good for?”
Velita extended her arms openly as she reached out to him. Her palms ran over the edges of the elven’s slender hands as she cupped them and lifted his palms up between their faces like an offering. “You wished this sacred place to be restored and cleaned, but apparently, there is still something on your hands,” Her thumbs on his palms, she inspected his fingertips closely, “something I cannot see.” And then she looked up into his slitted eyes, unwavering as her thumbs ran over the insides of his fingertips, “blood only you can see.” Her forefingers brushed over the outside of his fingers ever so slightly as she released him. “Only you can cleanse your hands.”
Velita inhaled, held her breath, exhaled. “Until then, it was as good as a drink of water can be.”
Iorveth stared at her and all he felt was the need to kill her for her insolence. She was small, thin, barefoot and her feet were covered in red mud. But once he slit her throat, he could not give her another earful!
“Your feet!” Iorveth scathed, “You wade in the blood of the earth and dare to tell it’s me who has a problem?!”
Velita bend down scooped some of the mud from her heel on her fingertip and put it in her mouth. “It’s not blood. I think it is mud,” she shrugged. “Not quite tasty but as pure as mud can be. If it is poison, I will let you know once my stomach starts to ache. If I’m mistaken, you’ll witness my death.”
“I don’t care if you die from it, dh’oine. I care about the grounds and water that is being polluted.”
“An honorable aim, Iorveth.” Velita agreed and went to clean her feet, put the socks back on and tied her clogs.
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded