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Chapter 85

The moon shone on Shire village where the Sea Scorpion Troupe was staying at the moment. That night, they were circling a bonfire in the village center, enjoying a grilled meat banquet with the newcomers. Alan took the main seat and raised many toasts to the duo. "I welcome you to the troupe, Roy, Letho. We'll be your comrades for the next few days, at least until we reach Ellander." He downed that mug of wine and raised another toast. "But I have a few things to mention here. Since you're coming with us, you'll be following our rules. You'll have to talk to everyone before doing anything. If you break that rule and cause any trouble, we'll have to ask you to leave."

"We've been wanderers for a long time now, so that's fine with us." Letho raised his cup calmly. "Oh, good wine. Castel Reviello's Pomino, and ten years of age, at that."

"Ah, it seems you know your alcohol, Letho. I see that folklore has demonized witchers quite severely." Alan grinned, hyping the mood up.

The flames were starting to crackle as the lard from the pig it was roasting dripped into it. It roared higher, and the aroma wafted across the air.

Eveline was beside Roy, talking about the interesting things she'd seen after she'd left her tribe. Kantilla was giggling and nibbling away at Eveline's ear, her eyes gleaming. Sitting across from them was Amos, who had a hook nose and was wearing a headscarf. He was leering at Eveline, though of course, he got no response. On the other hand, the ugly Ferroz was huddling closely to Collins as they bit into the roasted meat together. Roy noticed their mouths were almost glued together, and they looked very much in love.

They're obviously dating. Brokeback Mountain in the witcher world, huh? Roy was surprised, though the troupe members weren't. He tried his best not to show any discomfort by shifting his attention to the meat. The flames crackled, and the smoke was filled with its scent. It's fat-to-meat ratio is just right, and it instantly melts in your mouth. This world's people sure know how to cook.

Letho and him looked at each other and dug into their meat, holding a silent competition. They'd been eating biscuits and dry food for a week. It was their first normal meal in a while, so they appreciated it.

***

A guest came halfway through the banquet. It was an old man, who was also Shire's chief. "I hear you're leaving tomorrow, but if it's possible, can you stay for a while longer?"

Alan answered calmly, "Why?"

The chief sighed. "Things are getting bad. Misfortune is running rampant. Boogeymen have been seen in the Mahakams, and you'll probably bump into kobolds or spriggans while on a leisurely stroll. Fairies and rusalki have been kidnapping hundreds of children from the villages around, while drowners hide in the swamp, waiting to get the jump on passing carriages. And diseases we've never even heard about before are breaking out. It's disastrous." He downed some wine, and his face turned scarlet.

"It'd be a dull life without wandering troupes putting on shows whenever they pass through villages. Most of us would've hung ourselves at this point."

Roy burped and wiped the grease from his lips. So this chief is trying to lick their boots? And where did he hear those preposterous stories from? If monsters were running rampant, we would be seeing a lot more witchers than we are now.

Alan, the leader of the troupe, was also flabbergasted by the sudden praise. "You flatter us. We aren't as noble as you think. All we're doing is giving our aid whenever possible. It's great to hear that we put smiles on Temerians' faces, especially in these troubled times."

He snapped his fingers at everyone and let out a loud whistle, then something magical happened. A small, grey falcon darted out from the dark and flapped its wings as it perched on Alan's gloved hand, the flames illuminating it. The falcon nodded at everyone and cawed, and then it pecked at the roasted meat.

"And we didn't do it for free. Your village's roasted meat is quite a dish. Art says it loves it." Alan gazed at the falcon lovingly, as if it were his own son.

"I am delighted to hear that. Stay here for a while longer. Eat, drink, and be merry." The chief raised a toast. "If it's possible, I want to tell you how I feel." He clenched his fists and started talking, "It's just a few days' trip to Ellander, but it's not safe. You should stay here for a little while longer. At least until Ellander's troops have cleared the path."

"Our troupe isn't weak. We won't be stopped by mere bandits." Alan sounded confident. "And from what I've heard, Ellander's Order of the White Rose only cares about the safety of the city. They don't care about the villages around them. It'd take too long if we were to wait for them."

Alan was trying to ask the villagers of Shire about his true goal. Everyone stopped what they were doing at once and waited for the chief's answer.

The chief trembled for a while before resolving himself. Then he said, "I'll be honest then. Shire's in a predicament right now. Our trader, Andre, has been gone for half a month now, and we have no news about him at all. Rowling, who went to pick some herbs near the swamp, went missing as well. I fear the worst might have happened." The chief paused for a moment. "And misfortune has been spreading throughout the village for a while now. Before you came, we were suffering from missing livestock. Chickens, dogs, cows, goats, sheep, you name it. And we hear all kinds of eerie screams at night. Tom, the night patrol, is scared out of his mind and refuses to step out of his house, even now. But the situation took a turn for the better once you came."

Alan looked at him coolly. "You're saying something's behind this, but we scared it away."

"Yes." The chief nodded incessantly. "We think it's either a petty thief, or a ghost, or a phantom. But since you've arrived, the ghosts haven't shown up. They're probably scared of you guys."

The troupe members were on high alert after hearing that. Kantilla licked her dagger, and she seemed to be raring to go. Eveline looked pensive, while Collins hugged Ferroz. Amos averted his gaze and curled on himself.

"I didn't mean to hide it from you guys. We can prepare a bounty for you, as long as — "

Alan interrupted him. "We won't change our plans. The troupe leaves tomorrow morning."

The chief rubbed his hands, looking disappointed and awkward. I can understand why they're angry. Then he looked at Letho, who was already greasy and tipsy.

"Witcher, can you and your disciple stay back then?" He hesitated for a while. "We'll pay — "

"Sorry," Letho apologized. "My leg's badly wounded. Even walking is difficult for me, let alone fighting."

Roy wanted to say something, but he stopped himself when he thought about Letho's injury. Best not to cause any unwanted trouble for now.

In the end, the chief left, looking despondent. The night darkened, and the members were drowned in their own thoughts. On the other hand, Roy took Letho aside for a quiet discussion.