Yarpen's eyes widened.
"Are you really a witcher? Even the professors at Oxenfurt University couldn't say anything so philosophical yet so concise. All they do is complicate simple things and ramble on about all sorts of nonsense."
Lynn smiled. "By the way, Yarpen, why aren't you and your companions playing?"
"I'm nothing special at cards. I can't win every game like you. The best way not to lose is not to play. Lending the cards to other people doesn't earn as much, sure, but I like a business that guarantees a profit."
They chatted happily, like old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.
Since joining the caravan, Lynn was the first interesting soul Yarpen had met.
Lynn also liked the dwarf, Yarpen, and was happy to chat with him.
After a while, Yarpen suddenly let out a long breath. "Good thing we're not in Kaedwen."
Lynn immediately caught the implication in his words.
"Are you worried about the Scoia'tael?"
Discrimination and abuse against nonhumans were particularly severe in Kaedwen, driving many nonhumans dissatisfied with the status quo to rise up in resistance.
Many people thought nonhuman rebellions only occurred within Kaedwen.
What they didn't know, however, was that nonhuman unrest wasn't limited to Kaedwen.
It encompassed the entire Northern Kingdoms.
Yarpen paused, then stroked his thick beard.
"The Scoia'tael? They do wear squirrel tails or pelts on their hats or clothes as decorations. The name suits them, though I've more often heard them call themselves the 'Children of Freedom.'"
In fact, the name Scoia'tael had formally entered the historical stage during the First Northern War.
At present, however, it wasn't yet widely known.
Children of Freedom, though?
Lynn curled his lip.
Tsk, tsk. They certainly know how to make themselves look good.
Glancing at Yarpen's grave expression, Lynn spoke half-jokingly.
"If I remember correctly, their slogan is 'Drive the humans back into the sea.' There's no mention of dwarves in that, is there?"
Yarpen shook his head.
"It's not that simple. I know humans call both dwarves and elves the Elder Races, but dwarves and elves have never been on the same side."
"To be precise, the only difference between elves and humans is that their white ships arrived on this land ten centuries before the humans did."
"Never mind how they're grinning at us now, calling us their brethren, calling us family..."
"Before the humans arrived, they were aiming their arrows straight at us... and now we're suddenly brothers again? Sorry, but at least my companions and I don't see it that way."
Lynn asked curiously, "But if I remember right, haven't some dwarves joined their rebellion too?"
Yarpen sighed heavily.
"That's true. Every dwarf thinks differently, after all."
"I have to admit, some dwarves are still a bunch of hotheads despite their age. A rousing slogan or two is all it takes to exploit their naivety and stupidity."
"But the way I see it, we've got to learn to live together peacefully."
"At the end of the day, dwarf or human, we're really no different. We bleed the same blood and drink the same water. Humans aren't monsters, and dwarves certainly aren't either."
"The world's big enough for both humans and dwarves... all right, elves too, if they weren't so extreme and obsessed. We..."
Before Yarpen could finish, his words were cut short.
An arrow shot out from the woods.
Then came more.
Arrows flew from the woods like birds, streaming toward the moving caravan.
"We're under attack!"
A guard sitting at the front of a wagon shouted.
But his cry was quickly cut short.
An arrow struck his neck, and he fell from the wagon.
The sudden attack immediately threw the caravan into chaos.
"Look out!"
An arrow suddenly buried itself in the pony's rump.
The pony neighed and toppled sideways.
Yarpen had no time to jump from the saddle.
He could only watch helplessly as the falling pony dragged him down with it.
And at that critical moment...
A hand seized the back of his collar and hauled him up just in time.
"Thank you, witcher."
Yarpen was still shaken, but he hadn't forgotten to give his thanks.
On this chaotic battlefield, being pinned beneath a horse would have left him only a step from death.
Lynn nodded.
He set Yarpen down.
Then he jumped off his own horse.
The woods were no place to fight on horseback.
He slapped his horse's rump, sending it running, then ducked behind a covered wagon with Yarpen.
Istredd's horses were all well trained. There was no need to worry about them getting lost; a whistle would call them back when the time came.
The two took cover behind the wagon.
Arrows whistled through the air around them, the sounds of their flight and their impact against the wagon ringing out incessantly.
Lynn motioned for Yarpen to stay under cover.
Then he cast a Quen Shield on himself before looking outside.
The caravan had stopped.
Arrows bristled from the covered wagons and the ground.
The guards protecting the caravan, however, displayed the professionalism their occupation demanded.
After the initial chaos, the remaining guards used the covered wagons as cover and returned fire with crossbows.
Yet after only a brief look, Lynn quickly reached a conclusion:
This is bad!
The sheer number of arrows exchanged between the two sides made it clear that they were outnumbered.
Moreover, the enemy was hidden in the forest, while they were pinned down on the road, unable to move.
If the enemy circled into the woods behind them and fired into their backs, they would be done for.
Fleeing into the forest behind them before the enemy could circle around might offer a slim chance of survival.
But what about Geralt?
Am I supposed to abandon him and escape alone?
Lynn knew Geralt's character well. Had Geralt been someone who clung to life and feared death, he wouldn't have been killed by a pitchfork in the original novels.
With that thought, he stopped hesitating.
He turned and spoke to the dwarf.
"Yarpen, stay here."
Yarpen started. "What? Witcher, where are you going?"
Lynn didn't answer.
He took a potion from his belt pouch.
He had brewed this potion in his spare time on the road. With the limited conditions in the wilderness, he couldn't brew potions in large batches as he had back at Kaer Morhen.
Still, a few bottles were more or less enough.
The one he held now was called the "Blizzard Potion."
It could trigger adrenaline secretion and stimulate his nervous system's responses, allowing him to briefly enter a state akin to bullet time.
He swallowed the potion in one gulp. The liquid rushed down his throat into his body, then spread throughout it. The potion took effect quickly, and Lynn immediately felt an itching, tingling sensation across his face.
The sensation was especially intense around his eyes.
From Yarpen's perspective, the veins on Lynn's face suddenly bulged, every last one sharply visible, turning his formerly handsome face utterly hideous.
The sudden contrast startled Yarpen.
"Stay here."
Lynn ignored Yarpen's reaction and simply repeated himself. Then he sprang out from behind the covered wagon and charged toward the woods, crouching low like a savage direwolf.
The woodland trail the caravan was traveling along was only forty or fifty meters from the trees where the enemy hid.
Even an ordinary person wouldn't need much time to cover those forty or fifty meters.
A witcher, whose physical abilities surpassed those of an ordinary person, would need even less.
But the moment he left the covered wagon, an enemy spotted him.