Chapitre 501: Refugee Camp
Chapter 501
Another day dawned upon the land, dappled sunlight shining down on the tents in the woods. The women were still sound asleep, holding their children tightly in their arms, their faces greasy and covered in tear tracks.
Roy leapt off the oak tree and landed without making a sound. The godling and the girl followed him.
"Sorry for the wait, friend. Dorothy, I, and my furry friends buried the villagers last night. Leaving their corpses out might attract unnecessary danger and turn the whole place into a monster den. Thank you for chasing off the baddies and saving Dorothy." Donny held Roy's hand and swayed it around happily, his eyes shining with hope and delight. "How can we ever thank you?"
Dorothy was behind Donny. She had changed into a clean dress. Grey in color, and the fabric was cheap. Her eyes were red and puffy, but there was gratitude in her gaze. And worship. The memory of the witcher killing off the bandits effortlessly had left a lasting impression on the girl, and she felt nothing but the satisfaction of revenge seeing him do that. She kept bowing to her savior.
Since Roy wasn't saying anything, Donny whipped out a black nut and handed it to the witcher. The witcher popped it into his mouth despite the nut being covered in soil and grass. His eyes looked a little vacant, and silence fell upon them.
"You don't seem too happy, friend. Did something happen last night?" The godling noticed the look on Roy's face and realized he must be sullen. "Did the bandits come back? I saw a bunch of women and children on my way back. But the men are missing. Where are they?"
Roy looked at the woods behind him, and Donny peered into them as well. He saw a grave staring back at him, and the light in his eyes dimmed. He stared at his feet, feeling guilty. "I did this to them. If I hadn't asked you to help…"
"Their murderers are dead. They shall face judgment soon. And this is not your fault." Roy shook his head and chortled. "The fault is mine. I should've been more prudent." Frik could've lived. If he'd left Gryphon or his sword around, he could've teleported back right away. If he had drilled the warning of danger into Bavi's head, he wouldn't have tried to help, but Roy neglected that. He thought he could easily kill the bandits and leave no man alive. He thought they were nothing but training targets and EXP, but his arrogance proved to be a fatal mistake. "I should've been more careful."
"We'd like to pay our respects." The godling and the girl came to the grave and knelt before it.
"I'm sorry, my friends. I promise I'll come here every week and tell you all the stories I've seen. My friends will keep a watchful eye over you. No one will disturb your rest."
Dorothy sniffled and whispered a prayer for the souls under her breath. The trio stood before the grave for a long, long time.
The sun shone brightly overhead. The refugees had woken up and started to move around. "We still haven't thanked you for your help, Auckes," Donny said.
Roy took a deep breath. "Godlings know a lot about their turf, right? Have you seen a man with white hair and a pair of swords like mine pass through your turf? And there should be a girl with green eyes and mouse-grey hair."
"A white-haired man?" Donny's sadness was replaced by a look of musing, and he scratched his head.
Dorothy raised her head. "I-I've seen him. It was nine days ago, and a big, strong man came to ask for directions. White hair, eyes like a cat's, handsome, and had two swords strapped to his back. And he had a black mare with him. He asked the exact same question." Dorothy continued, "He was looking for a green-eyed girl, but no one saw her." She stared at the ground, tearing up. "The bandits hadn't come back then. The chief told him to search in Mayena. The girl perhaps had gone with the refugees. He should be at the camp by now."
I knew it. Roy nodded, heaving a sigh of relief. Pity Geralt couldn't find Ciri.
"So what now, friend?" Donny asked. "Will you go to Mayena?"
"I can't leave these people to fend for themselves, can I? What about you?" Roy looked at Dorothy. "Her friends and family are gone, so care to come with us? You'll be homeless if you stay here. What if more bandits show up? Or worse, beasts and monsters?"
"Thanks, but I'm not leaving." The girl looked up and shook her head. "I'm staying with Donny."
Roy stared at them in surprise, wondering if he'd heard them wrongly. A human staying with a godling? He had never heard of humans and godlings getting into a relationship. They were too far apart in terms of genetics. Even witchers are closer to humans in terms of genes.
"I know how to survive the wilds. I'll make sure she eats well." Donny counted his fingers. Happily, he said, "If she's bored, I can take her fishing or swinging or riding boars and catfish. This whole place is our playground. I'll protect Dorothy this time. I won't let any bandit hurt her."
"I know." Dorothy smiled and held the godling's hand. "I know you'll take care of me, just like you've been doing. I trust you."
"But have you ever considered your future?" Roy said, dousing their enthusiasm. "Can you survive the wilds? What will happen when you grow older? Will you keep staying in the wilds? You won't be marrying anyone or raising a family?"
***
The seemingly callous questions marred Donny's mood, and he hung his head low, but Dorothy didn't hesitate. She held the godling's hand firmly and, with determination, said, "Everyone was just living their own lives, doing honest work, but then the baddies came and took all our coins. And then they tortured everyone. Dad, Mom… everyone! Everyone died!" She raised her voice. "Human scum are worse than the most ferocious beasts or monsters. Even if I do go to the refugee camp, we don't know what I'll run into there. Just thinking about it makes me shiver. I'd rather live my whole life with Donny. At least he won't hurt me."
Roy was silent. He couldn't blame Dorothy for having this change in perspective after the harrowing tragedy. That was her choice, and he wouldn't persuade her to do otherwise. "Very well. Then I wish you happiness and peace." Roy woke his pets up. It was time to leave.
"A minute, friend. I haven't given you your reward." Donny whipped out a bag of crowns from his pockets. Roy estimated that there were at least two hundred crowns in it. "The bastards didn't take this in time, and Dorothy won't be needing this anyway."
The girl nodded.
"So you can take this, friend. I insist. You're a kind witcher. You can use this to help more people."
Oh, so he knew. The sunglasses didn't fool him. And I thought taking only one sword with me could fool him. Roy didn't refuse the offer.
"Oh, a mule alone won't be enough for all these people and cargo." Donny clamped down on his fingers and made a loud whistle.
A pair of long, straight ears popped out of a thistle bush, and a long, yellow face appeared. It was a wild donkey over six-foot-six tall, and the donkey happily came to the godling. Donny held its ear and whispered into it.
The donkey whinnied and approached Roy, hanging its head low. It was ready to work at any moment.
Donny said, "I've told her to escort the cargo to Mayena. Smack its rear eight times when you get to your destination, and it'll run straight home. Do please be kind to her. Don't let anyone capture her, or she's going to be skinned alive."
Roy smiled and patted the donkey's head. "Goodbye, you two. I'll come back if I can." He wondered how far a godling and a human could take their relationship.
***
Roy came back to the campsite and woke the refugees up, then they continued north. With the extra donkey providing a place to rest for the exhausted refugees, they were moving faster than before. They used to move at a snail's pace, but now they were moving like rabbits.
"You had no reason to escort us, but you did," said Yugni. "I know you're a kind person."
"Tell that to Bavi and Frik. I'd rather not be kind."
The widow shut up and backed off.
***
"Auckes, they say refugee camps are filthy and smell like arse. Filled with thieves and perverts." The beautiful, busty woman came to Roy, swaying her hips. Uneasily, she said, "It's dangerous for a bunch of women to stay with the refugees. Can you take us into the city? If you can't take all of us, then take me alone."
"And I suggest that you quit while you're ahead. Be content."
Failing her negotiations, the woman left.
***
Even though Roy took over the twins' place, he refused to talk much to these women. Even though the widows would frequently loiter around him and show off their curvy bodies as a token of gratitude, Roy refused to warm up to them. Their enthusiasm could not warm the heart of the witcher.
***
The journey went on for a week, and more and more people showed up on the path. Sometimes Roy would see horse carriages lugging cargo around, the wheels creaking against the ground.
Still, that did not mean they were safe. Roy had to fight off a bunch of nekkers at night once. And he had to fend off three waves of peasants-turned-robbers. They were armed with nothing but farming tools and crude armor. If it were only these women and children, they would have died on this path a long time ago.
On the fourth day, they saw a great, magnificent stone wall unfurling before them, and the ladies knew they had arrived at their destination. Roy took off the saddlebag from the donkey and smacked its rear eight times, then he saw it run off into the woods.
***
Mayena was a military fortress located in southern Maribor. Dozens of Temerian soldiers were stationed on the walls and outside the entrance. They were armed with bow and arrows and crossbows, checking the people who came into the fortress. A line of merchants and peasants formed outside the entrance.
It had only been ten minutes since Roy and his group came, but already he saw groups of refugees who tried to sneak into the fortress getting pushed away. They cursed under their breath and came back out to the filth where they called home. The space outside the walls were filled with putrid waters and rancid air. This was where the ladies would settle: the refugee camp.
Roy backed off quietly and stood at the end of the line, keeping a bit of distance between him and the ladies in case he got any unwanted attention. The refugee camp smelled like rotten vegetables and manure. It was made of carriages, wooden shacks, and tents. A few campfires sat around the place.
The refugee camp housed more than four hundred people, and commotions happened everywhere. The cacophony of noises rang out in the air and played a horrifically off-tune symphony made worse by the shrieks and squawks of livestock.
Order was nonexistent here. The filth of human nature was on full display, with people cursing and cussing however they liked. A few gaunt men with tattered clothes and dark circles were swaying and dancing erratically in the clearing before their tents. Perhaps they were performing some kind of art hitherto unknown to mankind.
Or perhaps they were just mad.
The ladies weren't beautiful, but put them all together and toss in a mule, and they became an attraction. Unkempt, salacious men peered from within their tents, leering at the ladies, catcalling them. Their desires could not be more obvious.
Some of the tents housed skeletal women. Their eyes were vacant, the looks on their faces hollow. Every time a man came in, they would pull down the curtains, and the tent would start to shake. This was how the refugees released their stress.
Roy looked around, hoping to see Ciri or Geralt. There were no rules in this camp. If anyone wanted a spot, they could mark it with their tents, provided that no one else was there. All the clean spots were taken up. The ladies had to set up camp around the outer ring of the settlement. The gazes the men were giving them made the ladies uneasy, and they wanted to run.
But they could not. They must learn how to get used to this.
Three rounds of checking later, Roy confirmed that Geralt and Ciri were not in this camp, so he turned his sights to the wall. I gotta go inside.
The ladies found a pleasant surprise. Friends from a village neighboring Willow Village came to them. There were a lot of them too, and not just women and children either. The friends shared their sorrow and commiserated, crying their hearts out.
If everything went well, these people would take in the widows, and they would make this place their home. Roy stood in the distance, watching this unfold, and he heaved a sigh of relief. Finally. I did what the brothers wanted to do, and now I can ditch these people.
***
He thought it was a bit of a shame. He thought the ladies would at least come and say their thanks and bid him goodbye, but delight had taken over their hearts. They drowned in it, forgetting everything else.
"Do you see, you two?" Roy patted the heads of his pets. "Some people only know how to take and not give. Let this be a reminder to stay in our own lane next time." And he left.
But before he could go far, a voice quickly called out to him. The blond widow came after him, holding her baby. She was breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off her forehead. With glittering eyes, she looked at Roy. "Thank you." She repeated solemnly, "Thank you for taking care of my friends and family. Thank you for putting up with us."
"I accept your gratitude." Roy nodded, the look in his eyes softening. His dissatisfaction toward this woman had melted considerably.
"Auckes, you might not want to admit it, but you're a good man. You're more of a man than the cowards and perverts who only know how to take it out at people weaker than them." She stared at the witcher, longing flaring in her eyes, and then it was replaced by dejection. "But I have nothing to give you." She then gave him a hug.
The witcher caught the whiff of sweat and… something else, but he was unfazed.
"Goodbye, Auckes." Yugni retreated, holding her baby in her arms, waving goodbye. She teared up, and through sobs, she said, "I will pray for you. When Harry grows up, I'll tell them about your story. The tale of Bavi, Frik, and Auckes."
Hesitation flashed in Roy's eyes, but it disappeared right away. "Here." He went ahead and held Yugni's hand, stuffing a bag of coins to her. "Take it. May it bring you luck. Live well, you two."
***
Yugni saw the witcher off, then she came to a quiet corner and opened up the sack. What she saw made her tear up again. There were twenty crowns inside, just enough for her and her baby to find their footing in this unfamiliar land.
***
"I stepped out of my lane." Roy saw Yugni off and smirked. He had held back, however. He would've told the woman to seek him out in the city if she needed something. After all, she was the only one who showed gratitude to him. But alas, he couldn't make that promise. There were a lot of people who needed help, but he was just one man.
Time for business. Roy circled the walls of the fortress a few times and came to a relatively quiet and remote spot. There were barely any guards here. He pulled Gabriel's trigger. The sound alerted the guards, and they looked around cautiously, though there was nothing to be found.
Roy had blinked into the city. Through the ever twisting alleyways he went, and eventually, he arrived at the streets before the fortress.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone