The Divine Hunter - Chapter 567

Chapter 567: Suggestion and Trial

[TL: Asuka]

[PR: Ash]

The battlefield was like an ever-running death machine, claiming life after life. The roars of fighters, the blood of warriors, and the blazing flames of war were its fuel. As fires screamed and swords glinted, many fighters fell into pools of their own blood.

At the edge of the battlefield, however, time seemed to come to a stop where a particular dark patch of the woods stood. Three Scoia’tael members were fallen and out of commission.

Roy held his blade up and turned his head enough to look behind him. The elven warrior held her blade up stiffly, pointing at his cloak.

Her hair billowed in the night, her face covered in blood. Her eyes gleamed coldly as she stared at the beautiful profile of Roy. She knew that face. And those eyes. And those ears. Her heart skipped a beat. A familiar feeling welled within her heart. It was the same emotion she felt three years ago during that separation.

Roy put his sword down. He had a conflicted look in his eyes, his magical barriers still swirling around him. The shouts disappeared into the background, and memories welled in his mind.

Memories of his adventures in La Valette’s land. Of that goodbye with Eveline. Of that gentle kiss she gave him. Of how her hair felt as it fluttered against his cheeks. Of how sweet her scent was. Of how reluctant she was to leave.

Three years had gone by, and yet Eveline did not age even a day. However, her tender soul had been replaced by resolve and cold-blooded murder, all thanks to her days on the battlefield. He knew this woman, and yet, he did not know her at all.

***

Roy looked at Varselie, who was almost knocked out from the pain. Toluvair, whose hair was raised, and smoke billowed from her skin. And at Kenzafa, whose chest was bleeding. These were the elves who took Eveline back to the edge of the world, where Dol Blathanna was. He had a feeling Eveline would join Scoia’tael, but he never thought they would meet on the battlefield as enemies.

There was no joy to be spoken of in this reunion. Nor any drinking or reminiscing. There was only sorrow and depression.

“R-Roy? Is that you?” Eveline held her weapon by her side, scanning her fallen comrades nervously. Her voice was clear and sweet, but there was disbelief, and she was trembling.

That gaunt lad she met a few years ago had grown into a powerful, deadly witcher. He was even more dashing than she remembered. His ears had grown pointier, and his features looked more like a part-elf’s than a human’s. Still, the blood that trickled from the edge of the blood he held belonged to many elves. Blood of his own kin.

The truth was cruel. Once upon a time, Eveline saw Roy as family. As someone she liked. Yet now he murdered countless of his kin without even batting an eye. Something squeezed her heart. Her kin had died, and her erstwhile friend was their slayer. This was a preposterous thing to think about, and yet it was reality.

She felt tears trickling down her cheeks, and she couldn’t hold them back.

“Yes, Eveline,” Roy rasped.

“Y-You’re with them? S-So you were behind the slaughtering in Novigrad too?” Eveline asked tremulously. She approached him, her sword trembling.

Roy’s mind was a mush. All the delight and excitement he felt during the battle was gone, replaced by something bitter. Out of reflex, he blocked out the cracks between the woods with his back, just in case his companions noticed this meeting. “No more questions, Eveline. Leave. And take them with you.”

The battle was coming to an end. Fewer than fifty Scoia’tael members were left on the battlefield, and their numbers were thinning out fast.

“What’d you say?” Toluvair held up her spiky hair. She thought she heard it wrongly. The elf got back up on her feet, though with some difficulty. She leaned on the burl of the tree behind her, her chest heaving. She stared at Roy, and realization struck her. “That’s the monkey who saved you back in La Valette’s land, isn’t it?”

Eveline smiled sadly and nodded at her compatriot.

“No time to explain. You have to leave before they find you,” Roy said sternly, his eyes glinting coldly. He sighed in silence. Back in the early days of his adventuring, Eveline had taken great care of him. He couldn’t kill her, not even if he had an iron will. He had to let her go.

Kenzafa was leaning on a tree as well. He looked at the gash on his chest and tried to staunch the blood with his hands. “Drop the act, witcher.” He mocked weakly, “You’ve killed so many of us. Both in Novigrad and this battle. You showed no mercy to them, so why start now? You sicken me. What’s your play? No, save it, I don’t care. Just kill me off.”

Kenzafa turned his bloodshot eyes to Eveline. “Do it, Eveline! He has killed so many of our brethren! And so many with that accursed fire of his! Do not forget, noamekend…”

It meant “those who are not of my kin are my enemies”.

Eveline held her sword tightly. She crouched, poised to attack, but there was hesitation on her face.

Roy swung his hand, and a flash of light hurtled forth from Gwyhyr. The witcher knocked Kenzafa out of commission, and the elf fell into the ground head first. He then knocked out the howling Varselie as well. The witcher made a gesture, and Toluvair froze, her pupils dilating. She stood frozen like a puppet.

The witcher quickly took the elven ladies on his shoulders and motioned at Eveline. “Come with me!”

A gust of wind assailed Eveline’s face. She gritted her teeth and screamed at the top of her lungs as she swung her blade at Roy. The attack was sloppy. Flimsy. Even a child could swing better than her.

Quen deflected it easily. Roy shook his head, sighing. He then dragged Eveline away. A moment later, the witcher zipped away from the battlefield like a gust of wind.

***

Ten minutes later, the raging battle came to an end, the bodies of Scoia’tael members strewn across the ground. There were barely any who escaped, mostly thanks to the witchers’ efficient culling.

“What are you looking at, mate?” Lambert patted Auckes’ shoulder, staring around.

Between the cooled magma and smoke-covered carriages were Kaedwen soldiers patrolling the perimeter, clearing up the battlefield. The witchers’ caravan was still intact.

“Roy took a few elven ladies away.” Auckes frowned.

“He did not. He was just off to chase the stragglers.”

***

In a dank cave far away from the battlefield, the two asleep elven women were left lying by the wall under a torch. Eveline was in a corner, hugging her legs, her chin on her knees. Her face was half hidden in the shadows, and there was an exhausting sadness in her eyes.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Eveline. I killed a lot of Squirrels. It was either them or me. I was only defending myself. Both in Novigrad and in the battle just now.” The witcher stood in the shadows. He said solemnly, “But I don’t think any explanation is going to cut it.”

Roy stared at the elven lady. Eveline was spacing out at the ground, avoiding his stare. “Speaking as a friend, I’d tell you to stay in the Blue Mountains. Don’t get into this war. Scoia’tael’s uncontrolled attacks have done nothing but place you and fellow nonhumans in a more precarious situation. Keep this up, and one day you and your friends will die.”

Eveline didn’t listen to him. Her face was as frigid as winter air. She gritted her teeth.

The witcher crouched and stuffed a xenovox into her hand, then he stared into her widened eyes. “The Eveline I know is a kind and sympathetic woman. She would never stand by and watch as her brethren died for a useless attack on humans. She would never let any innocent die for a lost cause.”

Roy’s eyes twinkled warmly. “I can see you’ve been tormented by the battles thus far.”

Eveline shivered, and she almost teared up. None of her brethren saw through that part of her, but Roy did.

“But it’s not like we can’t turn things around.” And then he said something that shocked Eveline more than when she met him on the battlefield. “I know who your leader is. A member of the Northern Realm’s sorcerer brotherhood, Francesca Findabair.”

Eveline closed her eyes, her painted face blanched and turned the shade of snow. How did he find out?

The look on Eveline’s face told Roy he was right on the money. He mused over his options for a long while, a frown furrowing his brows. Eventually, he came to a decision. “Listen to me. Take your friends and get back to the Blue Mountains. Tell Findabair I have all the answers to her questions, including her missing partner, Vilgefortz. And I have a plan for her. One that will free her and her brethren from indenturing themselves to Emhyr. No longer will they have to sacrifice themselves in this war. And I can grant the elves their wish to have a piece of land to themselves.”

Eveline looked at Roy. He was genuine, motivated, and his eyes shone. For a moment, he almost felt like a Squirrel fighting for the future of nonhumans instead of their butcher. Eveline spaced out a little, but she was tempted by the suggestion.

“You must be tired of the barren land at the edge of the world. You don’t need Dol Blathanna. There’s someplace better. Someplace that suits you more, but first, I must get to Francesca. You have to make her contact me. Use that crystal I just gave you.”

***

Roy pursed his lips and looked at Eveline one last time. He wanted to etch her face into his memories.

Eveline almost told him to stay. She wanted to talk to him and clear up any misunderstanding they had. She wanted to catch up with him, but she couldn’t. If she did, she’d be betraying her kin.

Roy stayed silent. He held Eveline’s soft, callused hand for a moment, and then he left like the wind, his cloak billowing. Then the witcher disappeared into the night.

***

When Roy returned to the campsite, Auckes and Lambert gave him a knowing look, but they asked no questions.

More than a hundred Kaedwen soldiers had appeared in the campsite. They came not long after the battle had ended. Roy didn’t find it weird. It was exactly the same as he remembered. He knew there were people following them when he was practicing Magma, but he didn’t say anything about it.

The dead were laid out in rows within the center of the campsite. Dwarves, elves, humans, and everything else were laid out together. There were more than two hundred of them. More than a hundred and eighty were Scoia’tael members. The rest were all Wenck’s soldiers. Some died in a tussle with Scoia’tael members, while some had their vitals pierced by arrows.

The witchers and dwarves were all intact. Even though they were covered in blood and their gear heavily damaged, they suffered nothing but superficial injuries. Roy heaved a sigh of relief. His interference had changed the fates of the dwarves, at least.

Still, the air felt weird. They came out victorious, but there was depression hanging in the air. Not a hint of joy or delight was seen. The ground was a mess around the carriages and carts. The buckets were overturned, and some were crushed to pieces. The contents were spilled everywhere, and what the Kaedwen bailiff claimed to be resources for the soldiers were nothing but stones. Even a dried fish was worth more than this.

“Yer call this resource for the soldiers of Aedirn?” Yarpen hissed. He leapt onto a carriage and swung his axe down on a wooden crate. The gash revealed nothing but rough edges inside. There were nothing but rocks within.

The dwarf glared around. “This is the resource Henselt claimed to be of great importance?”

Yarpen’s team was in disbelief as well, and they hissed.

The witchers finally got the answer to their earlier question. They had realized that the carriages’ wheels left too deep of a track for regular wartime supplies. The cargo they carried was extremely heavy. Boulders and rocks. That explains everything.

The children were silent as well, though they were curious. They wondered why the dwarves were protecting crates of worthless rocks.

The lanky quartermaster in black-and-gold shirt came out. Not even a scratch was seen on his shirt. He had an icy look, but there was apology in his eyes. “I am sorry for keeping this a secret. To be honest, Yarpen, this escort duty was a trap.”

Wenck bowed at the dwarves. “We had planned to lure the Squirrels out of hiding, and we switched the resources out for rocks in case they were to destroy it.”

“This whole thing was a trap?” Paulie grabbed his crossbow tightly. He flung his beard onto his shoulder. “We could’ve died! If the witchers hadn’t helped us, that is.” He looked at the witchers gratefully. “There were only fifty of us. The Squirrels would’ve wiped us out easily.”

“W-What did you do?” Barney was furious and embarrassed. He couldn’t believe he risked his own life for a pile of rocks. “D-Do you think we’re fools?”

“Calm down, everyone. There are 150 of us, to be exact.” A knight in shining armor stepped out. He calmly explained, “I am Friedgard. By orders of King Henselt, I and an army of elite soldiers have been tailing you, keeping you safe.” There was nothing but cold formality in his voice.

Yannick laughed mirthlessly. He roared at the knight, “And you came just in time too. Right after the battle was over. Did nothing but clear the place up. Big help that was, Friedgard.” He made an exaggerated bow at the Kaedwen soldiers. “Thank you.”

“No, this is no trap for the Squirrels.” Roy stepped out and skewered all the Kaedwen scum with an icy look.

“W-What’s that supposed to mean, R-Roy.”

“It means I have a conjecture, Barney.” The witcher tore apart the lie Wenck had been trying to maintain. “This secret mission of rock escorting is nothing but a test Henselt put you up to. To see if you’re traitors. The wise king of Kaedwen wishes to know if you’ve been in cahoots with the Squirrels.”

Dead silence fell upon the battlefield. The witchers looked at the dwarves with pity. The dwarves, who’d valiantly hunted a dragon before, who were part of the nonhuman community, turned their backs on their kin and lent their services to a human king. For him, they fought their own brethren. In the end, their reward was doubt and a deadly trial.

“Tell me the truth, Wenck!” Yarpen looked at the quartermaster, hoping that this was a lie.

“I’m sorry, Yarpen. I’m sorry, dwarves. Please, forgive us.” Wenck held his head low, his face a mask of pain. “But it’s all over now. The crisis and doubts are no more. I shall tell His Majesty that you are no spies.” He looked at the dwarves with genuine remorse. “On my honor, I shall see to it that His Majesty understands your loyalty.”

***

The dwarves stayed silent. Slowly, they scanned the battlefield. They looked at the soldiers, their fallen comrades, and the bodies of the Squirrels. A moment of silence later, Yarpen spoke.

“Save it.” There was exhaustion and disappointment in his voice. He ignored Wenck’s pleading look and turned to the witchers. “Sorry to be a bother, witchers, but we’d like to come with ya.”

“You’re always welcome.” Roy nodded.