鲁丝一区二区三区免费

The milk cows were nowhere to be seen on the other side of the bridge just yet, and the witchers walked slowly along the path, drinking in the beautiful scenery around them. At a glance, they saw a picturesque scene of a farm in the village. The sky was a clear blue, and various fruit trees stood proudly in the orchard, basking in the sunshine. White flowers were blooming on the trees, and the plump, lusciously glistening fruits hanging low on the branches were inviting someone to hold out their hands and pluck them off.

There were apples, peaches, and guavas on the trees, and their tantalizing scent wafted across the path between the trees. Magpies and larks were perched atop the branches, trilling happily. A meandering stream flowed around the village not far away from them, and light smoke that came out of chimneys of the rundown shacks billowed in the wind. Topless farmers were working hard in the fields, while snotty brats were fooling around with the dogs and roosters in the village.

“This is beautiful,” Roy praised. The White Orchard was filled with life and vigor. Even after the wars that would happen in ten years, the orchard stood tall. Not even the Nilfgaardian army could bring themselves to bring this place down to ruins. “You know, we should build the school’s base in a place like this.”

Letho scoffed. “Building a witcher base on a prairie that leads to everywhere is asking for death. Do you want to get yourself surrounded?”

“I’m just making an example. Getting a place with some beautiful scenery isn’t a bad idea.”

“Let’s go. Be on your guard. The people here aren’t exactly friendly.”

Being careful was the right idea. If Roy’s memories were correct, Kolgrim—the one they were looking for—died not long after he stayed in the orchard for a night. But it wasn’t certain if that would come to pass.

Because of their deep-seated prejudice, most villagers would only hear about witchers’ scandals, and they would think badly of the monster slayers. They might employ a witcher’s services if they were facing a monster problem, but they would spit at the witchers for being mutants. They were acting like ingrates, but that was normal for the population, and the witchers were already used to it. They were ready for the incoming hostility, but they realized that their perception was badly skewed when they finally came to the village.

The village was more like a hamlet that was only inhabited by about twenty families. Some of the houses were filled with cobwebs and draped in a blanket of dust. Nobody even cared to patch the holes that had formed on the roofs. On top of that, there weren’t many adult men in the village. Besides the few who were working in the fields and orchard, all the witchers saw were the sick, elderly, women, and children.

The villagers were acting weird as well. Most were sitting in their yard, basking in the sunshine. None of them paid any attention to the pair of outsiders, nor did they show any interest. They didn’t even answer the witchers when they tried to ask for directions. Only the boy who was hiding behind the stack of hay stuck his head out curiously. He was the only one who acted like a living, breathing person.

“Something’s wrong.” The witchers looked at each other. The village was giving off the vibe of a half-dead man. The air was stale, and the villagers seemed robbed of their desire because of the sufferings of life. They were hunched over, and their faces looked pasty. They showed nothing but indifference toward the outside world.

“Kid.” Roy beckoned the boy over, but he shook his head fearfully and scuttled off like a startled little beast.

The witchers were left with no choice but to find some clues through someone else. In most cases, no matter how small a village was, there were bound to be two buildings erected. One was the blacksmith’s shop, where the villagers could repair or buy farming equipment. It was also the place where the hunters would get some simple traps and arrowheads.

The other was an inn. Entertainment was scarce in villages, and most villagers would opt to have a mug of poor man’s fruit wine in the local inn after a day’s work. They would spend their time bragging to their friends, or if someone saw something interesting, they’d tell all about it to everyone who would listen. Inns were the go-to for news, as it flew around frequently there, and the innkeeper was the one who had the most news in hand.

***

The White Orchard’s inn was located in the village’s center, and it was the most spacious building of all. The witchers went in hoping to get some news, but all they saw was a bored woman leaning over the counter, staring out the window absentmindedly.

“Innkeeper…” The witchers took their hood off and knocked on the counter to snap the innkeeper out of her trance.

“Praise Melitele! Finally, customers!” The innkeeper looked joyous all of a sudden, and she wiped her hands on her apron. She beamed at the witchers, asking, “What would you like? Something to eat? Something to drink?”

“Two mugs of your signature, please.” Roy sat on the stool before the counter and scanned the inn. It was decently spacious for a village that had few villagers. Ten tables were placed all over the establishment, but business was nothing but a whimper during this hour. There was only one customer in simple clothes sitting near the window. His back was turned to the witchers, and he was drinking in silence.

“Of course. Two mugs of mixed fruit wine, coming up.” The innkeeper went to prepare the order. She wasn’t young anymore, but she kept herself well, and her rear looked firm.

“Ahem. Business doesn’t seem too good, innkeeper.”

“Call me Brenna. Business is in shambles. I don’t even get more than five customers every day. At this rate, I’ll have to close up shop soon.” The innkeeper shook the wine around, and her bosom started jiggling.

“Brenna.” The witchers looked away. “This village is peculiar. The villagers don’t seem to care about anyone.”

“Is that weird? You must not be from around here, then.”

“Can you tell us more about this village, then?”

“It’s a long story. Drink something first.” Brenna filled their mugs with yellow liquid that glistened like melting butter.

Roy had a little taste, and the scent of mango, apple, and orange filled his mouth. He squinted happily. Letho, on the other hand, put his cup down after one sip. He preferred stronger alcohol.

“To tell you the truth, I only moved to this village three years ago because my cousin, Bram, persuaded me. I opened this inn then. The village was still a merry place years ago, and business was decent.”

“What happened, then?”

“It’s…” Breanna hesitated for a moment, and she was gripped by fear. “Something happened. Something terrible. Half the villagers died, and a lot of the remaining half fled to Vizima. The ones who were left behind became empty shells of themselves. They lost their families, and it gnawed away at them. They don’t like to talk anymore, nor do they care about anyone. All they do is eat, sleep, and toil away in the fields.”

“Why didn’t you move then?”

“I’m just a widow. I spent all my gold to open this inn here in the White Orchard. Where else can I go?”

“What really happened back then?”

The witchers kept asking, but Brenna just wouldn’t tell them the reason for the mysterious deaths, and they dropped it.

“Very well then. If you don’t wish to talk about it, then fine by us. Let’s talk about something else.” Roy gulped down the rest of his wine.

“Recently…”

“A year, two years. Maybe even further back,” Letho added. “A man in similar attire came to this village as well. Do you remember him? He should have stayed in your inn for the night.” Letho took his cloak off, revealing the black leather jacket, pauldrons, and chains beneath. It was standard Viper School equipment. He pointed at the pendant hanging before his chest, and he stared at Brenna.

Brenna trembled, her eyes widened in shock. “Witchers?” she said, her voice trembling.

“We’re searching for a missing brother.” Letho stared down at the ground, his voice cold and grim.

“I know nothing!” The innkeeper retreated hastily, but her prompt denial told them she had the answer they wanted.

Letho stood and slowly marched toward the innkeeper, while Roy looked around them carefully. For some reason, the only customer in the inn was gone. Roy shook his head. He thought something was wrong, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. It was as if a fog were clouding his mind, obscuring some memories he wanted to remember. He went and stood guard at the door.

“Brenna, answer my question if you want nothing to happen. Where is he? Or more precisely, where is his body?” Letho went around the counter. He cocked his eyebrow, and his voice was filled with unbridled fury, not unlike that of booming thunder.

“I do not know! Don’t come any closer!” The innkeep held her hands before her chest. “I’m shouting!” She opened her mouth, and her face was frozen in horror, but before she could shout, Letho made a sign in the form of a green inverted triangle.

It started spinning, drawing Brenna’s soul into it like a whirlpool. Everything turned black, and she lost consciousness.

“Where is Kolgrim?”

“He is…” Brenna stared at the sign blankly, like a puppet dancing by the strings. “He is five miles due northeast of the orchard. In the tomb of the Verrieres Family.”

“Who is Verrieres?”

“Ignatius Verrieres. He is the baron of the orchard.”

“Kolgrim died at the tomb of the baron’s family? Why did he go there?”

Brenna answered in an eerily calm and monotonous voice. “Two years ago, Kolgrim the witcher came to the orchard and stayed at my inn. The villagers saw him, and unfortunately for him, Paul’s son—Vitty—went missing at the same time. He thought the witcher was suspicious, since everyone says witchers love to take children away. That night, Paul reported the matter to the baron and persuaded him to lead his troops to capture Kolgrim. Witchers are notorious to begin with, and the baron thought investigations were a waste of time. He declared the witcher guilty of kidnapping and sentenced him to death by hanging.”

“He was hanged to death?” Letho’s pupils became slits, and his voice was as cold as the winter wind.

“No. Kolgrim refused to beg for the baron’s mercy, but he requested trial by ordeal. He would clean the baron’s family tomb to prove his innocence.”

“And?”

“He went into the tomb and never came back out.”

Letho fell into silence, and memories flashed in his mind. Kolgrim was young, handsome, and a stubborn witcher with a fancy mustache. He had the most talent in blacksmithing out of everyone in the school. Everyone could see that he was a master blacksmith. He would go on to carry out Ivar Evil-Eye’s final order, but before he left, he waved goodbye to the trio who stayed back to guard Gorthur Gvaed.

Even though it was a goodbye, Kolgrim still had a bright smile on his face. It was a more likable smile than Auckes’. He could still remember what Kolgrim said to them before he set out on his quest.

“Just you wait, Letho, Auckes, Serrit. Once I bring the blueprint back and make that sword, I’ll defeat all of you! Only I can be Master Ivar’s successor!”

But now he’s dead? “What happened next? What is the truth? Did Kolgrim kidnap the son of the beekeeper?” Letho asked quietly, staring down.

Brenna paused for a long time, but eventually, she said, “Not long after the witcher went into the tomb, the villagers found Paul’s son downstream. He was killed by drowners, not the witcher.”

Letho heaved a long sigh, closed his eyes, and clenched his fists. “It’s our fate to die this way, old friend. But your name should never have been sullied. I will clear it, I swear.”

Roy was listening, and he looked melancholic. He had never met Kolgrim before, and now he found out that his comrade had died because of a false accusation.

“Your prophecy has come true, kid. Kolgrim did die in the White Orchard. You have proven your powers to look into the river of time. As promised, once we find the blueprint and make the weapons, we’ll travel to Novigrad with you and await news from the White Wolf.”

He paused for a moment. “But before that, we must clear Kolgrim’s name.”

“You don’t have to tell me that, Letho,” Roy answered solemnly. “I am a part of the Viper School. Avenging our comrade is what we should do.”

Letho nodded. He draped the black cloak over himself again, but he paused for a moment after he turned around. “Brenna, what do you know about the great change that happened to this village?”

***

***