Dawn arrived, and the sky turned light grey. A vast wilderness stood between Kerack's capital and Brokilon. Traces of human habitations only became scarcer the further east someone traveled. Buildings and paths were replaced by hills and bushes. No longer was human civilization dominating the place; an ancient forest was.
The sound of horses cantering broke the silence in the air. On a black horse rode a rider in a grey cloak. Through the juniper and ash woods the rider went, riding ever closer to the ancient forest populated by incredible trees.
The horse eventually came to a halt. There was a slope before it, slowly leading upward and connecting to the forest. The rider crouched beside the patch of raspberry and hollyhock bushes at the base of the slope. He brushed his hand across the horseshoe marks on the ground and plucked a few leaves just to take a sniff at them. And then he closed his eyes.
When he opened it again, his eyes glinted. A dim ribbon appeared in the air and extended up into the hills before disappearing into the patch of grass on the top. This smells fresh. Roy was reminded of what Coral told him.
"That bitch has two items she treasures. They're two beautiful statues the size of an adult arm, and they contain a secret of hers. Important secret. Yeah, it's dirt on her. She even got someone to escort the stuff all the way back to Brugge, where she lives. But fate didn't let her have her way. When the cargo passed Brokilon, some bandits robbed it, took her stuff, and killed almost everyone. But she didn't tell anyone about it, not even the king. Nobody can know her secret, so she just took the hit."
"Wait, if her husband doesn't know about this, how did you?"
"Don't give me that look. She forced my hand. I had to keep my eyes on that bitch at all times in case she tried anything funny. This is my last chance. If I can find those statues, I can teach Ildiko a lesson she won't soon forget and get something out of her. Oh, and the robbery happened a year ago. If I'm right, the bandits are actually Brokilon's scalp-hunters. They patrol the area around the forest most of the time and sneak into the woods to hunt down the dryads. Aside from Venzlav of Brugge, Kerack and Verden's royalty have issued really attractive bounties on dryads' heads, but these people kill both dryads and humans. They've gone mad. Witchers are great trackers, Roy, so can you help me out here? You can do whatever you want to the scalp hunters."
Roy took a moment to think about it, and he agreed. The young witcher left Coral's abode before dawn even broke. On the back of a horse and in two hours, he found himself standing outside Brokilon. And then he spent two more hours chasing the lead before he arrived at his destination.
***
The horseshoe marks, the stench of human excrement, sweat, and the slightly salty taste of blood told the witcher where he had to go. He crouched and hid in the patch of grass. Like a viper, he slithered through the grass, advancing closer to the top of the hill.
Eventually, he reached a plateau, and Roy crouched even lower. His breathing slowed, and he looked into the distance. His sharpened senses allowed him to see everything there. There was a clearing in the center of the peak, surrounded by a few alder trees. Within the clearing stood a makeshift campsite.
There were about a dozen tents around an extinguished campfire. From where Roy was staring, the campsite looked like a slumbering camel. There was no one around and about. It was still early in the morning, and the poachers were asleep.
Yet the witcher didn't want to raise any alarms. He decided to confirm his targets' status first, and so he whipped out a parrot from his hood. He patted its yellow crown and red cheeks, telling the parrot telepathically what it had to do.
Gryphon held down the urge to caw and flapped its wings as it slowly flew over the campsite. The parrot circled around the air and stared down, transmitting what it saw to Roy. Within the makeshift tents made of some tattered clothes and wooden poles slept a ton of people on some haystacks.
They were wearing dirty jackets, and the weapons beside them glinted menacingly. Their chests were heaving, and some of them were gnashing their teeth and passing gas. One of the men in grey clothes and an iron helmet was standing guard, but he was dozing off.
"Fifteen scalp-hunters. All asleep. And a guard dog too. Good thing I didn't charge right in."
***
Roy was already coming up with a plan, but Gryphon kept scouting the area. Roy took off all the heavy stuff he was holding and chucked them into his inventory space. At the same time, he cast Quen and Heliotrop on himself. The double shields could cover him and most of his body odor. He learned this back in Kaer Morhen.
The young witcher stepped across the patch of grass quietly, slithering closer to the camp and adjusting his position until he was inches away from the hunting dog.
"Bunch of evil poachers. They hunt dryads down for their scalps, rob passing carriages, and kill humans too. They will not be missed, so I guess killing them isn't a bad thing?"
The look in Roy's eyes was almost icy enough to freeze the whole campsite. He grasped the air, and out came Gabriel. The young witcher put his finger on the trigger and aimed it at the sleeping dog on the haystack.
A silent whoosh rang out as a bolt flew through the air and hit the dog in the head. Its skull was pierced, and blood bloomed like a rose. The canine stretched out its legs and lolled its head as death slowly claimed it.
'Hunting dog killed. EXP +5.'
Roy quickly moved to the side like waves crashing against the beach. Like a crab walking on the sands, he switched positions and took aim with the help of Gryphon. And then it was bolts galore. Roy did five headshots, taking the lives of the guard and four scalp-hunters in the tent like a silent reaper.
Just like that, there were five bodies in the campsite.
'Piyet killed (5) EXP +20 (The witcher gave you a painless death, which is more than you deserve).'
The remaining scalp-hunters were hidden by their tents, and Gryphon couldn't find a good angle. Roy tucked his hand-crossbow away and whipped out a dagger made of cyclops bone. He spun it around a few times before he crouched down again and slowly made his way to one of the tents.
***
A gloved hand held down the mouth of a bald scalp-hunter, and another hand quickly slit his throat. Blood spurted out like a fountain, but an invisible shield deflected it before it could hit the ambusher.
The man woke from his sleep, his eyes wide with terror. He tried his best to make some muffled sounds, but a moment later, he was already unmoving.
***
Sixth one, Roy thought to himself. He just received the notification. Roy exited the tent and looked to his left. There was a tent with white lilies drawn on it, and underneath the blanket within the tent slept a curvy figure. "Is that a woman?"
While he was staring to his left, someone on his right suddenly sat up. He was a guy with a rotten tooth and hair that resembled a rooster's crown. The moment he sat up, he was greeted by the ambusher. "We've got an intruder!" the man shouted, though that was the last thing he did. A bolt pierced his head, and blood bloomed as he fell backward in shock.
But it was too late. The remaining scalp-hunters were awake. They picked their weapons up and came charging at the witcher, yelling and hollering.
***
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