NOVEL WEB Chapter 29: Chapter 29
Chapter 29: Phillip Strenger
"Th-thank you." Bernie's eyes were wide, his old linen clothes caked with dirt. Even though the drowner that had nearly clawed his throat out was now dead, his hand remained stiffly gripping his hunting knife. Lan had to forcibly pry the knife from his fingers to prevent him from injuring himself while trying to stand. The psychological impact of facing death was profound, and Lan was familiar with that feeling.
Only when he pulled his sword from the fallen drowner's body, gazing sadly at the gash in the blade, did Bernie seem to regain some composure. He took deep breaths, staggering to Lan's side and hugging the witcher tightly.
"Thank you… truly, thank you. Thank you for saving my life. I can't imagine what would have happened to my family if I were gone. Tessa is still so young; she couldn't protect her mother."
Some might interpret the embrace between men with suspicion, but in this moment, Bernie's gratitude was genuine. It stemmed from the fear of what had just transpired and the dread of leaving his family without a protector.
So, when a man, full of such emotion, choked up and embraced Lan, the young witcher could only gently pat his shoulder.
"Lan, I'll repair your sword for you. I'll also use the best wood and cover it with the finest fish leather from Oreton to make the best sheath."
"Thank you, but let Ivan handle the sword. This is a loss incurred during the mission, and you shouldn't bear the burden alone."
"Enough of that; there shouldn't be any more danger nearby. You need to wash those scratches from the drowners off your hands. Who knows what filth those beasts' claws carried? You mentioned we were close to Midcopse? Let's head there for some rest."
Bernie glanced at his long leather gloves, which were nearly shredded by the claws of the drowner. Underneath, his hand was bloodied and mangled; having just escaped battle, the adrenaline still coursed through him, masking the pain. Without those gloves, his hand would likely have been completely torn apart.
After determining their direction, Bernie took the lead, guiding the two out of the combat zone toward Midcopse village.
No area would host two groups of powerful predators. The drowner group Lan had just cleared out held a deterrent presence in this area, and as they approached human habitation, monster activity would generally diminish. Thus, the two made their way safely along the path.
"Did you just use magic?" Bernie asked, cradling his injured hand and sweating as he walked ahead. He was beginning to feel the pain and spoke partly to distract himself and partly out of genuine curiosity.
"That was just a sign, a trick," Lan replied casually.
"A trick? But you unleashed such a massive fire! You burnt ten monsters! I swear I heard the screams of at least ten creatures."
Lan's tone was slightly exasperated. "There were only five. That fire tornado was something rare. I calculated the positioning, terrain, humidity, and I was able to use Aard to blow the wind I wanted." Lan paused, glancing at Bernie's confused expression.
He sighed, feeling somewhat defeated. "Just think of it as having a skilled crossbowman who selects a fine weapon, adjusts the sights, and pulls the string, while all I did was pull the trigger. The sign was just the 'trigger.'"
Bernie was silent for a moment, then tentatively asked, "Are you saying you were blessed by the gods?"
Lan took a deep breath, his lips trembling, unsure of how to respond. He decided it was best to let Bernie feel a bit of pain.
***
Bernie's knowledge of the local geography was trustworthy. As he guided Lan, the two quickly exited the woods. In the distance, a cluster of thatched and wooden houses sat peacefully in a large clearing. Midcopse was one of the more notable villages in Velen and a resting point for travelers.
"Come on, Lan. I have a few friends here; maybe they'll see my sorry state and buy us a drink."
Seeing the pain etched across Bernie's pale face, Lan nodded. "Yeah, you really could use a strong drink."
As they approached the village, however, Lan's ears perked up. He stopped Bernie, who was about to continue walking.
"What's wrong?" Bernie asked, puzzled, but the sound of heavy hoofbeats soon thundered from within the village. About a dozen horses galloped forth, kicking up mud and dung from the fields. As the cavalry approached, they circled around the two men, who were now trapped.
Bernie had already raised his injured hand slightly to signal his non-threatening stance. Having emerged from the woods, the two were in no position to fight against a dozen armed cavalrymen. In such a situation, anyone with a normal intellect wouldn't act rashly.
"Who are you? Where did you come from? What do you want here?" Among the cavalry, the leader spoke sharply.
Lan kept his gaze lowered to avoid provoking any potential bias against witchers, only glimpsing the leader as they approached.
The men wore standard Temerian armor, but the leader's inner chainmail was of a more refined design, complete with a hooded tunic. A small shield emblazoned with the white lily emblem of Temeria hung over his heart.
Overall, he had the build of someone fit yet slightly overweight. His nose was red, and he reeked of alcohol—was he a drunk?
Bernie, merely a village hunter, had seen the lord's cavalry before but had never been surrounded by them like this; he was at a loss for words. The young witcher, however, was thinking quickly and responded calmly.
"By what authority do you question me, esteemed sir?"
The underlying meaning of the question was to inquire about the authority of the interrogator. A mere hundred meters away was a large village; unless they planned to kill everyone, whatever happened here would reach the ears of the lord. If these were soldiers out to make a quick profit, they would at least recognize when to back off, avoiding excessive aggression.
But the seemingly drunken cavalry leader didn't seem to care at all. He turned to his companions, laughing boisterously. "By the plague above, this kid is surrounded by eleven cavalrymen and still dares to ask what position I hold!?"
After his laughter, the leader pulled on the reins, stopping his horse directly in front of the two. He leaned forward, resting his arm on the saddle, and leaned in closely.
"Very well, I am Sergeant Phillip Strenger, loyal to Sir Vserad of Velen, and I am currently tasked with investigating a severe murder case that occurred in Duén Hen."
The mention of Duén Hen elicited no reaction from Lan, but Bernie's eyes widened in disbelief. He exclaimed, "Duén Hen? By Melitele! Which audacious bastard would commit a crime there?!"
As he shouted, his surprise and disbelief seemed to overshadow his pain. But what greeted him was not an answer but the simultaneous sound of swords being drawn, echoing around them. All ten of the soldiers had their swords pointed at the two.
"Duén Hen is only half a day's journey from here, and you two—suspiciously injured individuals—appear here. Gentlemen, you are quite suspicious."
Bernie was left speechless. But Lan sighed and raised his head.
***
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