Chapitre 11: Chapter 10: Waste of Time
A few days had passed since the battle of Sodden Hill, and Blaidd had successfully escaped with his hostage, the sorceress. He had fled to the deep forest near Mahakam, on the north side of the Yaruga, where he had found a cave to hide and rest in.
The sorceress had sustained injuries during the battle, and Blaidd took it upon himself to tend to her wounds. At first, he attempted to make herbal medicine to speed up the healing process, using the knowledge he had acquired from the three wolves. However, he soon discovered that the sorceress was allergic to the herbs, as her skin turned red after taking them. Luckily, her amulet seemed to have some healing properties, and Blaidd made sure to avoid touching her so as not to disturb its effects.
As he tended to the sorceress, Blaidd reflected on his motives for taking her hostage. He had done so to prevent the kings from sending their soldiers to attack him, which would have caused unnecessary casualties and tarnished the reputation of werewolves. However, he also hoped to gain some leverage by holding a sorceress captive, which he could use to his advantage in the future.
Blaidd was wary of using his war form, as he knew that the kings would likely have sent hunting parties and trackers after him. Instead, he opted to move around in his human or wolf form, taking precautions to avoid detection. He also hunted for clothing and supplies, killing a group of bandits who had crossed his path.
As he rested in the cave with the sorceress, Blaidd plotted his next moves. He had initially planned to become a hero in the battle of Sodden Hill, but his efforts had backfired, and he had become an enemy of the kings instead.
Blaidd knew that he couldn't stay in the cave for too long, as the kings' hunting parties would eventually catch up to him. However, for now, he was content to rest and plan his next moves, keeping a close eye on his captive sorceress.
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Triss's eyes slowly fluttered open, and she was immediately inundated with a deluge of memories - memories of pain and sorrow, memories of her friends' lifeless bodies strewn about the battlefield, and memories of her fellow warriors crying out in agony. She gasped for air, her face drenched in cold sweat as she tried to shake off the memories. She then took stock of her surroundings and realized that she was in a cave, with a campfire burning at the entrance. She gingerly touched her body and felt a foreign fabric against her skin - it was ugly and dirty, something she would never choose to wear in her right mind.
As she surveyed her surroundings, she noticed that her body was wrapped in old, clean bandages that were expertly wrapped around her wounds, covering her torso and arms. She couldn't remember how she ended up in this situation or how she even got injured. Suddenly, she remembered the werewolf, the strange creature that had touched her before everything went dark.
Triss shuddered at the memory, for when the werewolf had touched her, she had felt a peculiar sensation - a sensation of disconnection from the magic around her, leaving her feeling powerless and vulnerable. This was a feeling she had not experienced in a long time, and it sent chills down her spine.
"You're awake," a calm voice spoke up from behind her. Triss turned around to see a man dressed in the same clothing as hers, sitting calmly by the fire, stirring something in a shoddy pot. She couldn't help but notice that he was incredibly handsome, with pointy ears and flawless skin that seemed to glow with an otherworldly radiance that made her self-conscious over her own appearance.
Triss rose to her feet and stepped outside, eyeing the man, who she now realised was the werewolf who had touched her. "What happened?" she asked him, suspicion lacing her voice. "Where am I?"
"One question at a time," the man replied, not looking up from his pot. "You were injured, but I touched you. The only thing keeping you alive at that moment was magic, and when that magic was disrupted, you passed out."
"What do you mean?" Triss pressed, still confused and suspicious of the man before her.
"Why am I here?" she asked, her voice low and tense.
Blaidd hummed, an inscrutable expression on his face. "Guess," he replied, his tone teasing.
Triss turned her gaze to the fire, her mind racing with possibilities. She had no memory of how she had arrived in this place, and the last thing she remembered was being ambushed by a group of unknown assailants. Suddenly, a realisation struck her.
"You used me as a hostage," she said, her voice filled with anger and betrayal. "To escape from the northern realms. You apologised before I passed out."
Blaidd chuckled softly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. "Of course you're smart. You're a sorceress," he said. "But don't worry, you're free now. You can create a portal or whatever it is you mages do to transport yourself."
Triss raised an eyebrow, a note of haughtiness in her voice. "Not yet. I need payment," she said firmly. "You used me. Now I want answers."
Blaidd let out a heavy sigh, his frustration clear. "Of course you do," he grumbled. "I healed you using herbs. Is that not enough?"
Triss shook her head firmly, her face set in a scowl. "I'm allergic to potions and their ingredients. You can't fool me," she said.
Blaidd clicked his tongue in annoyance. "I could just kill you here," he said threateningly.
Triss raised an eyebrow, unafraid. "Why didn't you kill me from the start, then?" she asked.
"Because I was being nice," Blaidd grumbled, his tone bitter. He reached for a bowl and began to fill it with stew, offering it to Triss. "Want one?"
At first, Triss hesitated. She wasn't sure she could trust anything that Blaidd had prepared. But as she took a tentative sip, she realised that it was the most delicious stew she had ever tasted. Her hunger overwhelmed her, and she eagerly accepted the bowl from Blaidd.
"I won't ask for much," she said between spoonfuls. "Just your name, and how you made me pass out. And maybe the recipe for this stew."
Blaidd shook his head in amusement. "Blaidd of Lod," he said. "And as for the stew, it's just carrot, celery, potatoes, venison, onions, and some spices I found in the forest."
Triss grinned, feeling a sense of victory. "One more question to answer, Blaidd of Lod," she said, cheekily.
Blaidd rolled his eyes in a playful manner, revealing a small grin forming at the corners of his mouth. "You mages certainly have a curious nature, don't you?" he remarked. "Well, if you want me to satisfy your curiosity, then you'll have to satisfy mine as well."
Triss shrugged nonchalantly, "It depends on the question."
Blaidd wasted no time in starting his interrogation, "What's your name?"
Triss answered promptly, "Triss Merigold."
"Hometown?" Blaidd inquired further.
"Maribor," Triss replied.
Blaidd continued his line of questioning, "Why are you allergic to potions?"
Triss gave a simple response, "Why not?"
The next question that Blaidd asked was unexpected, and it caught Triss off guard. "Did you have sexual relations with Foltest?"
Triss was taken aback by the suddenness of the question. "What sort of question is that?" she retorted.
Blaidd persisted with his questioning, "How old are you?"
Triss felt insulted by this question. "That's rude, you know?" she replied.
Blaidd whistled in response, "Two out of five. I answered two out of three. Seems like you won't be getting an answer from me."
Triss folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, "You ask hard questions."
Blaidd casually slurped his stew and replied, "Nah, that's all easy. You can leave now if you want; there's no point in hanging around."
Triss, in an attempt to change Blaidd's mind, leaned forward and seductively rested her head on her knees while hugging her legs. "Well, maybe we could do something else to persuade you," she suggested.
Blaidd couldn't help but ask, "Are all sorceresses like this?"
Triss was confused by the question, "Like what?"
Blaidd continued, "Like a whore. Willing to sleep with a stranger to get a single answer? You're like a Redanian prostitute who's been hired to spy on their clients."
Triss's face fell as she was insulted by Blaidd's crude remark. "No need to be so blunt about it," she huffed. "Fine, you'll have my favour if you tell me what it is."
Blaidd didn't waste any time and got straight to the point, "Can you create a device that can detect werewolves?"
Triss looked at Blaidd curiously, "What for? To locate your fellow brethren?"
Blaidd shook his head, "You and your questions. It depends; if they're good men, then they can join my pack. But if they're not, I'll have to kill them. That's three out of four, Merigold."
Triss was confused, "What? Werewolves have packs?"
"Werewolves here? No," Blaidd said, further confusing Triss. At this point, it feels like he's doing it on purpose. "Four out of five. You still haven't answered my question regarding the device and sorceresses being whores."
Triss sighed. "I can. Though it'll take a while."
"Great. You do that."
"You haven't answered my question…"
"Oh, right. Werewolves of my kind are inherently anti-magic," he answered. Triss's eyes widened at the information. "Like dimeritium, to a lesser degree, I have to touch the magic first to disturb it. Now, Merigold, you promised to make that device. If you lie, I'll hunt you down and feed your corpse to wild dogs."
"Wait, 'of your kind?' What does that mean?" she said, turning more and more confused, ignoring the threats.
"Another question that I won't answer." Blaidd waved his hand dismissively. "Please, go now. Your questions are starting to annoy me."
"What would it take for me to get your answers as many as I want?" she asked.
"Seriously? Whoring again?"
"Ugh, I'm asking a question, not trying to seduce you."
"Fine. I guess a castle, a real one, not an illusion or whatever tricks you sorceresses would do, and maybe one hundred thousand crowns, and orens, and bizants."
"Yeah, no."
"Then go away."
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As he sauntered through the bustling streets of Mayena, the man's unique appearance drew the attention of many passersby. His striking yellow cat-like eyes were impossible to ignore, and even more so when they locked onto you. Despite this, he remained unfazed by the attention and moved with a casual confidence that suggested he was used to being the center of attention. The man's physical build was impressive, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, and he was clean-shaven, save for a thick black beard that covered his jawline.
However, what truly set this man apart from the rest was his striking gaze. Unlike other individuals with cat-like eyes, his appeared to be bloodshot, hinting at some sort of genetic mutation that had occurred in him. But the most prominent sign of his profession was the griffin school necklace that dangled proudly from his neck, marking him unmistakably as a witcher.
The city was not at peace, as evidenced by the soldiers camping outside its walls in preparation for a battle that could break out at any moment. The man ignored their presence and headed straight to a bulletin board stationed at the city entrance. He scanned the board for potential jobs, and his eyes landed on a notice that piqued his curiosity: "The Beast of Sodden Hill". His interest was further piqued as he read on, discovering that there had been a slaughter at the battlefield and a sorceress had been kidnapped, possibly by a werewolf.
"Well, well, this could be interesting," he murmured to himself, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
The Witcher appeared perplexed as he perused the notice in his hands. The descriptions of the werewolf's abilities seemed utterly absurd to him. The fact that it could heal rapidly, toss horses around with ease, and even deflect magic went against everything he had ever known about werewolves. In his extensive experience, he had never come across such a creature. Additionally, the werewolf had managed to abduct a sorceress - an incredibly potent entity in her own right. The mere thought of such a feat left him incredulous. The Witcher couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something much more complicated going on.
"This is strange," he said to himself. "Might be something else. The reward is high too. I'll take it." The witcher then climbed onto his horse again, walking to a nearby barrack to confirm if all these claims in the paper were true.
Volume 1: Sodden Hill 1263 - End
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone