Lynn was as fast as a shadow, weaving nimbly among the Ghouls and easily dodging the attacks of the severely slowed creatures.
All the while, he left wound after wound on their bodies.
Before long, Lynn had easily killed all the Ghouls.
They had not even brushed his clothes.
Warm currents flowed into his body, granting Lynn a good deal of experience.
Geralt, meanwhile, had also finished his fight some time ago.
Several lifeless Ghouls lay sprawled around him.
Only after seeing that the two witchers had killed all the corpse-eaters did the southerner hastily climb down from the roof of the wagon.
He first glanced at the bodies of the caravan workers on the ground and observed a second of silence. Then he walked over to the pair, planted his hands on his hips, and actually wore a smug expression.
"The three of us were pretty impressive. Absolutely killing it."
Lynn raised an eyebrow.
"The three of us? You were just making noise. We were the ones doing the killing."
The southerner's smile never faded. There was not a trace of embarrassment on his face.
"Don't take it so seriously. Life's a play. Take it seriously and you lose, my friend."
Seeing how thick-skinned he was, Lynn dispensed with politeness too. "Then your performance in this play was pretty lousy, my friend."
"All right, all right, I admit it. You saved my life. Happy now, master witcher?" The southerner raised both hands to Lynn in a French salute.
He said sarcastically, "People always say witchers have no emotions. Seems the rumors were wrong."
Lynn replied with equal sarcasm, "People also say that when someone saves your life, you should express your gratitude sincerely and earnestly, rather than trying to get away with snide remarks."
"All right, gentlemen. I'm sorry to interrupt your friendly and cordial conversation," Geralt interjected at just the right moment, "but this really isn't the place to talk."
He gave the southerner a slight nod. "If you don't mind, sir, we need to burn these bodies before the smell of blood attracts more corpse-eaters."
"Of course, master witcher. Please, go ahead."
The southerner hurried out of the way and watched Lynn and Geralt pile the corpse-eaters' bodies together and set them alight.
"If you don't mind my asking, how did you two master witchers happen to be passing through here?"
Geralt countered, "We should be the ones asking that question. What were you doing here?"
"Ah." The southerner sighed. "Damn it. My friend said northerners couldn't be trusted. I used to think he was being too extreme."
"Fuck, now it looks like he was right. I could fucking starve to death, die out in the wilderness, or jump off a building, and I still wouldn't come north again."
Lynn and Geralt exchanged looks.
Both instinctively sensed that something was wrong.
"So you're not an Aedirnian soldier disguised as a merchant?"
The southerner jumped like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "What Aedirnian soldier? I'm from Ebbing! Do you know where Ebbing is?"
Both witchers nodded.
Ebbing was one of the four largest vassal states within the southern Nilfgaardian Empire and enjoyed a degree of autonomy.
It had once been an independent kingdom, until Nilfgaard annexed it in 1239.
Still, tensions between north and south were nowhere near as sharp or intense as they would later become, so there was nothing unusual about a southern merchant appearing in the north.
The problem was that the Kaedwen army captain who had given them the contract had explicitly claimed that the people his men defeated were "Aedirnian troops disguised as a merchant caravan."
His very first job, and he had already encountered such malice.
It seemed that society in any world liked throwing cold water on newcomers to the workforce.
Lynn asked curiously, "All right, then what were you doing here?"
The southerner sighed again.
"Toussaint's famous Est Est is very well known in the south. It's an extremely high-end, expensive wine, but hardly anyone brings it north."
"I wanted to be the first to try it, so I came to Kaedwen."
"A few months ago, when I first arrived in Kaedwen, a guard captain inspecting my goods at the border told me he had connections that could help me sell the entire shipment directly. That way, I wouldn't have to spend my energy peddling it everywhere."
"But his condition was that we split the proceeds fifty-fifty."
"Although I had to give up half the profits, it saved me a lot of time and effort, so I agreed."
"But what I didn't expect was that after a few transactions, he would demand to raise his share to seventy percent, leaving me only thirty."
Now Lynn understood.
"So you refused?"
The southerner spoke as though it were obvious.
"Of course I did. I worked my ass off traveling back and forth between Toussaint and Kaedwen, dodging bandits on the roads and watching out for monsters in the wilderness."
"On the road, I often couldn't even have a proper meal. Then there was the cost of buying the wine and the wages I paid my workers..."
"Thirty percent? How was I supposed to live on thirty percent?"
"So I demanded that we keep the same split as before. Otherwise, this would be our last deal, and we'd go our separate ways from then on."
Lynn spread his hands.
"Instead, they drew their blades, killed you and your workers, threw you onto the corpse heap, and left the corpse-eaters to dispose of the evidence."
"Even that wasn't enough to put their minds at ease. They hired two witchers to burn all the bodies and make sure no evidence remained."
The southerner's eyes widened.
Clearly, he had picked up on something in Lynn's words.
His gaze turned wary as he looked at the two witchers.
"You... you two..."
Beside him, Geralt spoke without a flicker of expression.
"Relax. We kill monsters. Besides, no one's paying us to burn anyone alive. But I'm curious how you escaped."
Only after hearing Geralt's words, and seeing that neither Lynn nor Geralt showed any intention of drawing his sword, did the southerner let out a great sigh of relief.
"Finally, a rumor that turned out to be true. You may be mutants, but you still have principles! Thank you, master witchers!"
"It was chaos. My horse took an arrow and threw me off. Its blood spilled all over me, so I took the chance to play dead. Fortunately, they didn't stab me again to make sure."
As he explained, the southerner searched every pocket he had, but unfortunately could not find a single coin.
"Those bastards stole everything I had. I... I have nothing to repay you with."
To the southerner's surprise, Lynn waved a generous hand.
"It's fine. We've already saved you. We can't just throw you back to the corpse-eaters because you can't pay us. Go home, Ebbing man."