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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
The Battle in the Valley of Hell and the Nyphen’s Well
Meanwhile, Geralt and Gernot returned to the location of Lumberjack’s incident. It did not look as bad at the plough on heaven’s meadow, but the traces of the cart’s load gave still gave it away to the eye and the smell of rotting horse innards announced it in the nose over quite a distance. Nudging the horses to climb up the side of the hollow way, they looked for the direction in which the leshen had escaped. There were no visible traces up here on the first look. Gernot dismounted and told his dogs to sit. He took the cover from the horn and checked that the embers inside where still glowing inside. “I have wrapped my arrows with oiled cloth,” he informed Geralt, who nodded approvingly at the foresight. While Cricket didn’t mind the yapping and jumping dogs, fire on her back didn’t sit too well with her. She started prancing, Gernot closed the horn. “What’s your plan from here, Witcher?”
“Is here any formation of landscape available that restricts movement and gives us leverage?” – “Like a canyon.” – “For example, or an open lake side with rocky shore.” – “There is a stone formation uphill of the holy well. We can have ride cross-country and have a look. It’s even in the general direction the leshen took. I wonder if Adda can pick something up.” – “Don’t let them go until we know more. The leshen is still somewhere out there and I cannot protect you when you run around everywhere.”
“I won’t let them go. I’m glad you have my back while I read Adda. Let’s do this slow and together.” Gernot handed Geralt Cricket’s reigns and moved along the direction of the escape. The soil was not injured and there was no blood to be found. But once he looked closely, torn off leaves and bits of bark gave the direction away. The trace was just much broader than any other animal’s. He went back to Adda who sat in full attention in front of Cricket and watched Gernot’s every move and direction. When he picked up the line and silently ushered her to work, “show me the leshenee,” her nose was down, clicking and huffing with deep breaths as she took to the trace. The running dogs in line followed her example.
To Geralt’s surprise, there was not a single bark, no running, just a slow forwards movement with uncertain pick-ups to the right and to the left because of the width and shallowness of the old trace. Heads stayed down, tails wagged up in the air. The witcher nudged Roach lightly to follow step by step. He kept the general overview while Gernot stayed on the middle of his ten meter line, motivating the pack with gentle words from time to time.
It went over several hundred meters and several angles since the leshen avoided clearings. The terrain got steeper and rockier. In a place where the leshen had come down to top soil, the hunter halted Adda gently, approvingly, told her to sit and went to have a silent exchange with the witcher who had his back. “Up to here, from all possible directions the monster took an almost direct way to the holy well. There are just a few stops and it avoided some clearings. The well itself could be its target.” – “Whenever to drink or cool the burn,” Geralt followed the argumentation, “It could still be there.” – “Yes, or hiding during the day in the stone formation up hill.” Gernot brushed the leaves away and scratched a map into the soil, “the path that comes down from Heaven’s meadow” for orientation, the stabbed the ground to mark the well, “and the stone formation looks like this.” He mapped it from memory, high ground, gap, more stones, timber and thickets. “Our position. There are several places it can hide.”
“When it’s at the well and we walk further, you might get one shot at it before it vanishes between the rocks and gets the high ground. When we come from behind, we’ve got the high ground, but no way to lure it into attacking us. It could just escape through the treetops downhill and then we are stuck on our high ground.”
“We can part here, tie the horses and go in from both directions.” – “Good for striking opportunities, bad for your health.” – “We are many, we can be noisy and quick and confusing, that splits the risk. I’ve got a fireball on a chain and the distance weapon.” – “Alright. Give me five minutes to reach this point in the back and have a look into this canyon until you proceed to the well.” Geralt told Roach to stay and moved out.
Gernot had stopped wondering about witcher’s silent grace a day ago. He had his hands full to suppress the slightest whimper of the dogs with a raise of his finger as he went to get the horn from the saddle and attached it to his belt. He knelt with his pack, waited tree more minutes. He then unlatched Adda’s collar first “Adda, shh,” he signaled her to wait, suppressing the exited whimper of the others. Once he had set them all free, he slid the bow from his shoulder and opened the lid of the horn, blowing softly over the embers. Smoke was released, but the direction was fine. He ducked and signaled Adda to follow in attention, directing her onto the injured soil “Shhh... Shhow me the leshenee,” he hushed gently and slowed the action, Adda picked up carefully and so did the others. Apparently, the tracks were still old.
Crossing the ridge diagonally, the valley of the well came into plain view. No movement, no tentacle ball, raging or not. The witcher was in the stone formation above, checking the canyon. But no sound came from there, either, just eerie silence. His dogs were still heads down and securely on track. And then he spotted it. There was a foundling in the muddy ground by the well that hadn’t been there yesterday. It wasn’t a block like the natural rock and no moss was growing on it. It was like the monster had no interest to hide from daylight, but folded up in plain sight and was hibernating in the mud …for hours maybe. Adda would find it very soon, had to find for her sense of achievement.
But the witcher had still not reached the edge of the cliff. A cautious guy like him would seek thoroughly before he come up empty handed as he must because the monster was already here, with him. If he let Adda go for hard contact and strike up the action, it was too far away for the witcher’s sword and he wouldn’t last long. Mud was bad for fire and Gernot had seen enough minced dog-meat for a life time. “Slow,” he sidled up with Adda, his bow arm hugging her as he knelt, patting his palm in front of her to lay low and stay there - no matter what.
Crumb and Freckles shoved their noses into his side and back, and the others were wondering what the lead was up to. The whiff of freshly kicked mud hung over the valley, they were off the leash which was usually a sign for action. Gernot signaled Adda again to remain flat on the ground, patted Freckles pushy nose out of his pocket and ushered the other running dogs to follow him downhill. One by one in a bend line that crossed rivulet and the path, he told them to sit so he could call them off any time, collecting dried bark and branches on little heaps as he went. He held his steps at the point where the smoke from his horn would have gone over to the well.
Up on the rock formation, the witcher’s white hair and a part of his black shoulder plate popped up briefly. His primal colors stuck out against the sky like a wound thumb. Green clad Gernot stood among the trees, silent, straight and light footed like a spruce, lifted his face to the position of the witcher until he knew he had his attention. He did not point at the leshen, just turned his full width at the well slowly and fixed his gaze on the rock.
The witcher’s search of the hide out had turned up nothing, but once he had a look over the edge of the rock formation, the scary situation came clear at once. The hunter had done his best to secure his side of the trap, but it wasn’t an Yrden. As tightly as the leshen was curled up, the high ground he was on was of no use. If he jumped – and it was high enough to be risky even for him, the impact would wake the leshen. And the last fourth of the circle was still open. He suppressed his worries and signaled Gernot that he would climb down at the side of the rock formation, where it joined the steep slope and was covered in smaller rocks.
Gernot understood that the witcher didn’t care if the leshen got his wind and moved quickly down the chain of dogs, kindling the heaps he had prepared into little pyres. The fire produced much smoke, little flames and next to no heat. He had a bad feeling about it, but couldn’t do better with the materials at had. He knelt beside Adda and lit the first two arrows in the horn by his side. Hooking one to his little finger, he put the other on the sinew and released Adda.
Uphill on the other side between the rocks, the witcher threw an Yrden that reached from the rock formation nearly to the first fire he had lit. Geralt slunk through at the foot of the rock formation and the well stone, heated his sword to a red glow with an Igni and then came at the hibernating leshen the same moment as Adda broke through the spruce thicket on the slope and came at the muddy ground with deep angry bark. The nose-down, happy curiosity that the pack’s leader had displayed on track had flipped into a stiff legged, mane raised, teeth bared monster. All it needed was a fresh whiff and the sight of the leshen and the social guidance instantly turned into ferocious aggression – an all-in defense move of her pack and leader.
The corrugated surface of the hibernating leshen cracked and the witcher struck immediately. The glowing blade sunk deeply into the mud-caked foundling. Arms shivered and extended, allowing him to withdraw the blade and stab again… and again. Then he had to throw Quen to protect Adda and himself against a broadside of arms coming out of the mud as the leshen rose to its five meters height. While the loose mud splattered them, the mass of branches slid over the perimeter shield and above, Gernot let his first arrow fly and scored a sound hit. Though the oiled, burning cloth nearly vanished among the tentacles and just the orange feathers stuck out, the fire didn’t go out but burned with the draft of air and movement. The hunter didn’t wait and gape but pulled the second arrow through his little finger, up on the sinew right away and stayed on target. He let the other arrow fly in a moment when the monster reached for the branch of an overhanging black alder. It struck deep into the other side of the ball’s center and the tentacle that had reached out sank to the ground.
“Crump, Freckles! Seek! Seeeeek the leshenee!” At the high pitched yell, down at the path the chain of running dogs exploded into yapping, heated action below the wall of smoke from the little pyres. The leshen shrunk back from the gaseous billowing grey mass that blocked his way down into the valley, angled around the yellow sphere that had caused its waking with stabs of red hot pain and tried to escape the onslaught against the wind and uphill to hide among the solid rock.
It got caught by the line of Yrden, tentacles that crossed the line were surrounded by circles of white light. The witcher raced up, cutting off the tentacles slowed by the spell while the leshen tried to pull out and climb the steep rock formation. The loss of limbs made it harder for the leshen to find footing on the even surfaces of the rock.
Meanwhile, Gernot called for Adda to return to him and ran up hill where the right side of the stone formation met the sloped ground. He had stuck two more of his arrows into the ember filled horn and gained leverage to support the witcher on the ground. He climbed up for all he was worth, managed another horizontal shot at the climbing and rustling leshen, well above the witcher’s head.
The leshen was set back and lost two more arms to the witcher as Gernot jumped over a deep gap onto the main rock of the formation. He had the second arrow on the sinew, but the background was not free since it was filled with the erratically spinning and jumping witcher who chopped off the tips of tentacles the leshen had not brought up and out of his reach. A burst smashed the leshen against the rock below the hunter, bluish flares rocked up to the sky. Gernot dropped flat for cover on top of the stone formation, Adda by his side. Apparently, the witcher was less concerned about free backgrounds than him and his means were overbearing.
A rustle below, proof that he hadn’t gone deaf. Gernot rolled onto his side, clutched the burning arrow between his teeth and reached for the end of chain protruding from the fire horn. He came up on one knee, pulled the rest of the chain from the horn and looped it around the fingertips of his bow hand. He pulled the fire basket out of the horn at the last two foots of chain and swung it out. The soft glow flared up as the first tentacle reached over the edge. Gernot inched back and put his last flaming arrow on the sinew, taking the shot at the first segment of the ball as it rose over the edge.
Another Aard from below rocked the formation. Gernot dropped the useless bow and widened the arc of the swinging fire basked into a full circle of flaming embers. He struck the monster that kept coming over the edge. The basket caught, he pulled, a rain of sparks peppered the leshen with little to no effect. Gernot pulled harder, looked for a way to fix his end of the chain and run, but there was none.
The basket snapped loose and came flying back at Gernot. He side-stepped his own weapon, bend his upper body fluently and hurled the basket into a fully controlled circle of fire again. The leshen dropped underneath the edge, moving lower for the gap. Gernot turned, Adda turned to hold his left wing with deep, teeth bared barks.
While the leshen avoided the fire ball coming at it from above and squeezed into the cool crevice between the rocks, the witcher followed on ground level. The gap narrowed as it went deeper into the rock, erosion had carved it out further at the ground, so the leshen was forced down and into reach of the witcher’s sword. Geralt chopped off another tentacle with measured strikes among the rocks that threatened to ruin his fine blade. At the same time, the leshen failed to squish through between a rock and a hard place, it’s badly damaged structure finally cracked into halves. One half fell to the witcher’s feet and while he chopped that to pieces with unemotional efficiency, the other half scurried deeper into the darkness with a flurry of thinning tentacles.
“Is it gone?” came Gernot’s muffled voice from above.
“Yes. Stop raining sparks at me - but stay where you are,” Geralt huffed, “It’s not over yet.”
While the pack of dogs made a commotion just outside the gap, only his eye sight and valor was sufficient to follow the leshen into the darkness with the red of his glowing blade the only light. The remaining half of the leshen had withdrawn into a sink hole of the gap and stabbed one of his few remaining tentacles at the persecutor. The witcher caught it in a gloved fist, tore it out of the hole and stabbed the tip of his sword right into its center. It had no heart beat. It did not squeal. It flamed and in the last light, it wiggled and then finally, its movement died down.
The witcher stepped on it and cut it apart to be safe. “Now you can come down. We will need a cart from the mansion to collect and transport the parts to the bath house for incineration.”
Gernot put the fire basket back into the horn with shaking hands, picked up his bow and had a look over the battle field before he slowly dismounted on the Yrden-free side and entered the gap. He tied his senses firmly to the here-and-now. “Don’t we take this back to the mansion? The count will want to see the remains of the monster before he pays up.”
“He can come down to the Midville bathhouse if he insists to have a last look. He’s got the strange idea that he could find a creative use for this - under his control.”
“Ugh. I’m glad we found it and managed it well, but I’ve got my fill. We better leave this place neat and tidy. I’ll get a cart to take our mess to Mistress Rosa’s oven.”
Waving the dark red glowing blade patiently to cool it down, the witcher handed the hunter two unbroken arrows he had picked out of the remains. “Here, good shots that kept it busy. Well done indeed.” Geralt nodded curtly, then added, “And take your pack with you,” Geralt added, the yapping commotion at the slightest, occasional flicker of a tentacle was getting to his nerves. “Please,” the witcher remembered his manners. He shoved the tentacles onto a pile at the entrance of the gap and followed the hunter back to Roach slowly.
There was a reason Geralt preferred to work alone. It was hard to be responsible for so many individuals who made their own decisions. Roach was all the company he required, quite reliable, just needed an Axio at the really bad times – and most of all – the mare was silent, while Gernot was the center of a hurricane of sound and movement as his pack homed in. The witcher stayed well away from the ruckus, his razor sharp blade still out and cooling.
Gernot was all family with his dogs, while Adda was always the closest by his left side smearing mud from her fur on his pants, and no other dared to squish in there, the others slim black runners came to jump around him and over each other, to greet him happily and each other to familiarize again and make sure everybody was alright. They got their treats from the bi-pedestrian leader before they calmed into their known order at the leash and Adda took helm. Cricket was used the commotion, stood with her full weight on all four hooves while Gernot looped the leash around the pommel and slipped his bow over his shoulder. He hung the horn to the saddle as well and mounted up.
Roach huffed at Geralt, “You waited at the right place, thank you.” He looked down himself, and sighed. Black mud from the well and water still tickled down in rivulets among the iron rings and sliver studs and black leather armor. Similar colors do not match, not to mention the smell of rotting plant growth that clung to him. Compared to Skelliemaw innards though, it did not smell bad. He pulled a leather cloth out from under the saddle, moistened it with clean water from the saddle bag for a cooling effect and wiped the precious blade down carefully so he could push it into the sheath on his shoulder without burning the harness. He did not mount up, just accompanied the hunter down to the path where they split ways: Gernot rode the down the path and back to the mansion while Geralt went up the path to the holy well to start clearing the battle field.
-oOo-
The witcher’s exhaustion was paired with a comfortable sense of achievement. Nobody hurt or dead, just tentacles to be picked up like branches and gathered in heaps for pick up. They had to be careful with that. The ground around the well was soaking wet, ideal for plant growth and regeneration.
The witcher took a wide step over the rivulet to reach the spot of the first contact. He had not expected the leshen to hide in plain sight. His first two stabs had cut a root-like twine from the leshen. He dragged that part out of the mud and threw it down at the path to start a pile and prepare loading. The mud squelched, it was very soft under his boots, but something deeper inside hampered the pull. ‘Did I cut that deep?’ He wondered and stepped forwards cautiously, sinking in to the ankles. “Uagh,” he grunted. ‘Velita will have so much fun with those boots,’ he pondered, shoved his gloves under his belt and swatted down to feel for the object hidden right under the surface of the mud. He shoved the blackened mass aside. Clear water tickled into the hollow, mud followed. He dug further, getting mud all over his gauntlets. This wasn’t alder or spruce or beech nor any other kind of tree that grew nearby. It was the residue of a truly ancient leshen.
And it was rooted deep in the same ‘well’ in which Gernot had probably washed blood off his hands before he took the healing water back to Velita. None of them was a mage, but blood and love where powerful ingredients when they touched the magic left behind by the elders.
They would need a shovel.
-oOo-
Behind the stable in the garden, Velita had taken Bianca with her who had begun to yowl out her loneliness again once the last cabbage pot had been carried into the cellar by Pike and Choi. Velita had prepared a patch and used a broom stick to push long lines into the fine even soil. Anne and Fabian were sprinkling seeds into the lines from the other side. Bianca lay in the sunny spot under the Aloe plant and warmed her round belly. She rolled to get all paws on the ground and yawned as the younger of new guards rounded the stable on his first watch. This guy rattled with iron like the captain. She didn’t like the captain who smelled like Gernot but was just a fake …with hard boots, loud voice and no treats in his pockets.
This guy had averted her gaze as she fixed on him and ambled further down the garden path. Bianca stood and followed to find out more while the new guy was ignoring her. Velita stood and curtsied. They exchanged a greeting and introduction. Maybe the new one wasn’t so bad. But his eyes briefly touched Fabian, lingered on Anne, and then fixed on Velita to remain there, even while she averted her eyes and swatted to press down the broomstick. The guard did not move on, he remained standing behind her.
Velita would have to straighten up to move the stick further down the line, but she remained where she was because he stood so damn close, she would bump into him and she would not give him any excuse to feel her up. A wave of fear and stress came from Velita and Bianca knew: the new guy was not alright. Her hackles rose and she approached with stiff legs, growling low at the intruder.
The guard quickly made up his mind and decided he had pressing business elsewhere. Bianca leaned against Velita’s thigh and enjoyed a scratch that lowered her hackles. “Thank you,” Velita whispered and hoped for a permanent impression. They were family in this garden, she was dressed like a decent woman now and the city guards would have to continue using their hands for their release like they had in Midville.
The guard had just arrived at the main gate when clopping hooves caught his attention. Gernot Forester cantered up to the mansion and the guard opened fluently to let the stampede of horse and dogs pass.
“Velita!” Gernot yelled before he even reached the stone trough.
She came around the corner like a flag ship with flying skirts, preceded by Bianca and with his kids in tow. “Yes, Master Gernot?” she held Cricket so Gernot could dismount safely. Adda greeted her daughter with the grace and dignity of a leader while the running dogs were easily excited, kept in line only by their ladies on one end and Gernot on the other.
“The witcher has slain the monster. I have to take the dogs into the kennel and report. Leave Bianca with me and tie Cricket here, then get the Brown ready for the cart.” The guard had ambled over to introduce himself.
“It is good to have you here guardsman, you can help Velita to get the cart ready.” His eyes caught the guard’s that where half hidden under the helmet, “Velita will show you around and I expect you to listen to her advice.” He unhooked the fire horn from the saddle, “Anne – take Bianca with us to the kennel, Fabian – you, too, with me,” he shooed his family through the barn. Thankfully, the passage was free of pots already so the cart could be pulled out. Just the shredder and stuff was still lying around with the carriers nowhere in sight. The dogs where happy enough in the kennel and Gernot took his kids back through the barn where the guard-turned-stable hand was using all his might to pull out the cart like Velita had pointed him.
Gernot entered the mansion through the kitchen, dropping off Fabian at the cook to help her doing dishes. He asked for the carriers. “The countess required them to prepare her a bath. Can you believe it, in the middle of the day!” the cook scolded her boss, but only in the privacy of her kitchen. “Oh well, Sir Geralt and I will need a bath, too,” Gernot commented dryly, “because we chopped that dirty ol’ tentacle ball to pieces.” – “Agh, you have a way to spoil the greatest news, Gernot! One bath a day is enough of a hassle. The dirty butcher can go to the bathhouse like everyone else!”
The huntsman wasn’t sure if they would accept a mutated monster-executioner in their bathtubs in Midville. He took Anne upstairs and parted from his daughter in front of the Countess’ succession of rooms as the door opened and Jun und Gene came out with empty buckets on their way downstairs.
The Count wasn’t in his office nor heard from the drawing room which was strange at this time of the day but sit well with Gernot. If he had told the count upon request where the monster’s pieces were laying around right now, he would have felt bad. This way, he just told the steward that they had killed the monster. The witcher would come to pick up his payment later and offered the count the opportunity to have a last look at the monster before the incineration at the bath house oven in about three hours from now on. With that, he lifted his felt hat and went out before anybody asked uncomfortable questions.
Velita had the cart ready when Gernot came out of the mansion and went to get large canvas and rope from the barn. “Where is the guard?” he inquired.
“He went into the chevalier’s house to wake his comrade to take over for the rest of his shift.” Velita held the brown horse.
Gernot knew he could not send her in there, put the folded canvas on the seat and went to find his guard-turned-coachman himself as the door opened and the captain limped out, supporting himself on the guardsman. “I’m coming,” – “Alfred, you are not well, please, lay down.” – “And miss the opportunity to see that beast burn? No. I cannot walk, but I can still drive. No reason to mess up my shift plan, little brother,” the captain mounted up slowly, set his foot carefully against the board and took the reins.
Velita let go and followed Gernot to Cricket by routine. “Everything alright here?”- “Yes. But I might take Arya for a walk later, when the night shift begins.” – “It will take a while to gather the pieces for incineration and cart everything over to Midville… and Geralt really needs a bath.” – “What happened?” – “He’s got a load of mud all over him. Least I can do is to make him presentable again,” he winked. “If you want to do me a favor, you could wash Adda at the kennel. She was at his side and took the other half of the mud load. In about two hours, the Count will need his Fox to ride into Midville.”
The captain and the guardsman were looking at them, “Yes, Master Gernot,” she said aloud and handed the reins up the Gernot who pulled Cricket around and moved out. The captain followed suit with the cart. The guardsman went to close the gate and Velita went for a bucket of water, a sponge and a cleaning box to feed the pack of hunting dogs and see if Adda would let her wash her.
The captain hated the fact that Adda and Bianca often spent the night with Gernot in the chevalier’s house. But the younger brother insisted to keep his dogs close, especially after a hard day or other circumstances, the lead dogs would sleep beside his bed.
In the kennel, the dog’s main priority was food. Every dog got its own bowl and Velita wouldn’t have dared to interrupt Adda while she emptied hers in record time. She just stood back and waited to take the bowls out. When she returned for the wash, two of the young runners had captured her sponge and were shredding it with vigor. So what? She had been inattentive while pondering whenever Geralt would return to her or if he was as good as gone. She scolded herself for stupid attachment. All was good: If he did not return, she could eat her fill for two days. If he returned, he would be as clean as her fresh sheets and she would bask in his ardent attention and live another day under his protection.
Adda was too grown-up to shred stuff and lady enough to sidle up with Velita for a friendly scratch. Thankfully, her short fur didn’t take on much dirt and was dry already. Velita deepened the endearment. Taking time, she got the fine comb first and then the brush to remove the rotten black particles. Once she had run her moist palms all over Adda’s fur, the tabby shone like new. “Adda darling, you are a most practical lady,” Velita smiled and got a head butt against her chest in return.
“Woman, get out there and saddle my horse,” the count had crept up behind her and stood just outside the kennel.
“And don’t forget to clean up the mess you made with the cabbages,” the steward beside him added. “Yes, Milord,” she grabbed the cleaning box and went over to the stable at once. If the count went over to Midville now, he would have to wait for one and a half hour. Should she tell him? No, she better not. The fox stallion was still pretty clean from the morning ride and she had it ready in no time. But what was that talk of the blacksmith?
“And the saddle bags,” the count rectified her work. – “You took them inside this morning, can I find them for you, Milord?” – “No. Get me others.” – Velita went back to the tack room, grabbed a pair of bags with a torn closure and fiddled in a leather strap instead with shaking hands, then rushed out to tie them to the back of the count’s saddle. The count did not lash out at her; he merely ignored the wait with a smile on his face. He commanded the guard to open the gate and threw the fox stallion into a light canter. Velita looked after him. The count was really in a good, even forgiving mood today… because Geralt’s success had taken many worries of his chest, maybe? – “Don’t hang around here Velita, you still got to tidy up the barn.”
“Yes, Steward, right away.” she bowed and went to clean the scales, tidy up spices, and bring the remaining salt into the kitchen. She went to pick up the empty crates to brush them out and afterwards pile them all up on the first floor of the barn when Choi and Pike returned from the mansion to help. “Finished with that bath?” the two men rolled their eyes. “She’s still in and keeps Jun and Gene in stand-by behind a screen. She feels beautiful because it makes the boys flush, but they are just afraid that the Count comes in and hangs them for being in the same room as his naked lady.”
“The Count left a moment ago,” Velita could insure them.
“Finally!” Choi sighed. “The Count had us turn over the whole wine cellar. He wanted everything on one side to make space for a table we had to get from the barn for him – sorry for the mess by the way, we had to move it quickly.” – “Guess he’s moving closer to his only source of happiness,” Pike ranted. “Getting more wine now?”
“Geralt and Gernot have killed the monster. He wants to see it before it is burned in Midville, but he’s too early for that. He probably tries to hire a new black smith. He already hired two men wearing the city guards’ livery to help out the captain.”
“Ah, one of them is making his rounds through the court like a damaged clock work.” – “Yes. He already introduced himself,” she took a deep breath, “but then he helped me to fulfill Gernot’s order and everything was fine. I’m glad the Captain left with Gernot.”
Choi nodded, “If nobody gives them the wrong ideas, we will be fine.” – “That’s what Cass said,” Pike agreed. “We can tidy up here, go back to the spinach before the evening frost,“ he offered. – “Thanks.” Velita smiled and went for the stable. Since the Count’s fox was off her list and the rudes were safely in the kennel, she could take Arya into the garden with her. The poor girl had to see the light as well.
At the same time the guard was doing his own survey while he watched the scenes unfold. One woman was a fat harpy who was the companion of the steward who had his eyes everywhere. Neither the girl in the garden, nor the countess’ dignified ladies in waiting could be held accountable for the former guard’s comments. The only woman left had no tits underneath the rags and jumped at every call by the Count and Steward. She even called a commoner like Gernot “Master” like a slave would. But in return the huntsman handled her like a competent employee. She tended to his hunting dogs that even defended her.
The sedan carriers were definitely slaves, as her equal they formed a friendly community with her even though they never touched her. Yes, he had singled her out. He was a free man with a lot of time on his hands and she was just a slave. He would teach her to be more forthcoming with him once she had no dog by her side. Her name was Velita and there, the stable gate opened… ‘What the fuck?!’ he gaped at black dog by her side. It was as high as the woman’s thigh, black and weighty like calf with a white spot on the chest. It rushed to sniff around the trough, was called back and stopped just briefly to pee at the gutter. The packer bitch pranced with luck and was all attention until they vanished behind the stable’s corner into the garden.
-oOo-
At the holy well, Roach was tied at the path uphill, away from the rivulet and the soaked ground. The witcher had piled up the remains of the monster in tree big heaps when Gernot cantered around the slope and called a halt. It was the captain -of all people- who drove the cart. Gernot dismounted and tied Cricket next to Roach, then went over to the Brown that pulled the cart. “Let’s turn around before loading,” he guided the horse’s steps forwards and backwards gently since the back of the cart was close to sink into the mud of the well, then scrubbed nearly along the mossy rocks. Once the turnaround was complete, the captain pulled the reins tight “Hoh….” He looked around.
There was no blood or corpses lying around this time, just piles of branches and spots were the mossy ground was torn open and the black soil was showing. The rock formation had taken a beating from mid to top, lime stone shone white from the scratches. For just two guys and a monster the expanse of the battlefield was impressive.
Gernot got the wedges from under the seat and kicked them under the wheels so the horse stood relaxed. “I guess that you cannot move up hill with that foot,” Gernot sighed, “If you would spread the canvas and tie it to the sides, sir Geralt and I will move the piles to you for loading. We have to be very careful with the monster’s remains. If we left pieces behind, they could regenerate and then the slaughter would start over.”
“We don’t want that to happen,” the captain groaned and climbed on the back of the cart and unfolded the canvas. “The whole affair has been costly enough.” The way he handled fabric, it was obvious that he had never done laundry in a life time.
The witcher was searching the battle field with a bag in one hand, yellow eyes on the ground, moving strategically top down to find the smallest twigs that broke off a tentacle. “I told you to take the dogs away, you returned with worse,” he commented. – “The count hired two city guards. If I had denied him to come looking, they would look at somebody else. I said you were expecting the Count for proof and payment at the bathhouse.” – “Hm.” - “They expect you to stay there before you leave.” – “Oh, I will get paid, clean up and then enjoy the count’s hospitality for another night.” – “How so?” – “Because it will be late and I like Velita’s hospitality. And because you brought no shovel.” – “A shovel? Well, you did not tell me to bring one.”
“Tomorrow, we will bring shovels to your holy well - It will stay among the two of us.” Geralt hinted, “Now get the big piles on the cart while I continue the finer search.”
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Sleeping Beauty Reloaded