Witt walked out of the tavern and headed straight out of the village toward the river.
From the tavern keeper's answers and Hector's unusual behavior, Witt could more or less tell that Hector was probably single-handedly responsible for this incident.
He had kept even famous spellcasters like Old Graz and Sabrina in the dark. Just what was he trying to do?
Witt glanced back at Selkirk following behind him and thought, I hope this isn't some stupid romantic rivalry.
By the light of the moon, Witt reached the riverbank and searched downstream. After all, Ban Ard lay upstream.
But Selkirk and the others following him lacked a witcher's exceptional eyesight. They trailed a short distance behind with torches lit, making quite a racket along the way.
"Witt, have you found anything?" Selkirk asked urgently.
"Not yet."
After they had walked for who knew how long, a branch appeared in the river, a winding stream flowing into the silent forest beside them.
Towering ancient trees grew in the forest, their canopies so dense that moonlight could barely reach the ground. The wind passed through the woods and stirred the wild grass, making it seem as though something lurked beneath the weeds.
"Are we... going in there?" At that moment, Selkirk sorely missed the tavern's warm hearth.
"Don't you want to see the bridal chamber your bride prepared?" Witt asked with a smile.
"You..." Since he still needed the witcher's tracking skills, Selkirk swallowed the curses on the tip of his tongue. "Go, go, go."
Before entering the forest, Witt stopped and instructed Selkirk, "Tell your men to watch themselves. Unless you want to attract other monsters, you'd better put out the torches and keep your mouths shut."
"Witcher, will you take responsibility if we get lost?" One of Selkirk's men, long since fed up with the witcher ordering them around, sneered.
"Shut up!" Selkirk snapped in a low voice, cutting off his subordinate's criticism and making him extinguish his torch.
"Find a rope and hold on to it together, or simply don't follow. Wouldn't that do?" With that, Witt walked into the forest without looking back.
Selkirk glared at the subordinate who had just spoken and ordered his men to follow Witt's instructions.
Once he was fully inside the forest, the smells of damp earth, rotting plants and animals, and all manner of strange odors flooded Witt's mind. For the moment, he detected no unusual scent.
But a small, trampled path pointed the way.
Witt crouched beside the path and parted the flattened grass, revealing deep footprints underneath-or, more accurately, hoofprints.
Selkirk saw the prints too. He had not said a word since entering the forest, afraid of attracting other monsters. After all, the witcher was the professional here.
Following the prints, they came across more traces ahead: disordered footprints, scorched ground, unnaturally fallen trees, and some beggartick flowers left near the path.
The flowers, which had yet to rot, and the abnormal fluctuations of magic in the air made Witt's expression turn serious. The stench of blood and decay wafted from the end of the path, so strong that even Selkirk and his men could smell it.
They followed the path deeper into the forest. At its end stood a cave entrance buried beneath loose rocks.
"Heavens." Those were Selkirk's first words as he emerged from the forest, while his men nervously drew the blades at their waists.
For before him lay more than a dozen corpses, all of whom had died horrific deaths. The bodies were in varying stages of decay; a few had barely decomposed and seemed to have died only in the past few days.
"What happened here?" Selkirk asked.
"Protect His High... Mr. Selkirk!" Several of his men surrounded Selkirk, watching their surroundings warily and glancing toward every rustle.
Ignoring the panicked men, Witt approached the bodies, crouched down, and began examining them.
"The dead are all male. There's still a smell of sulfur on the most recently deceased bodies. Those in the worst state of decay probably died... a few weeks ago, but the marks where the bodies pressed against the grass are all equally fresh. There aren't many fallen leaves on them, either. This probably happened within the past few days..."
"What do you mean? Did that monster do all this?" Selkirk exclaimed.
"Your bride probably didn't do it. Look." Witt pulled the clothing off one corpse and pointed at the fatal wound on its chest. "This is a blade wound. Your men should be able to tell."
One of the men beside Selkirk stepped forward and approached apprehensively. After examining it for a moment, he nodded in confirmation.
Witt added, "These seemingly delicate monsters have hard horns and powerful hooves. Their attacks can even pierce steel. That's much faster than killing someone with a blade."
"Who did this? Were all these people lured here and killed?"
"Someone 'moved' them here." Witt shared his discovery.
"How is that possible? There weren't any traces along the way..." Selkirk stopped halfway through, suddenly remembering that Ban Ard Academy of Magic was nearby. "Was it magic?"
"Yes, exactly." Witt recalled the magic Old Graz had used to store a monster's corpse when they first met. Presumably, Hector had used the same kind.
Witt approached the cave buried beneath the rocks. A complex fragrance of flowers mingled with sulfur drifted through the gaps. It seemed the succubus was hidden inside.
"Is that mon... succubus in there?" Selkirk deliberately skirted the bodies and walked over to Witt.
"Yes."
"Come here and move these rocks!" Selkirk ordered his men.
Witt waved him off. "No need to go to all that trouble. Just stand farther away."
"Oh, all right." Selkirk moved away in bewilderment. He knew these witchers could use a little wondrous magic too.
Witt removed his left glove. The Ring of Favor glimmered, and the chaos magic in the air began to disperse. Air elemental power surged wildly toward the witcher, and the elven rune representing the Aard Sign appeared in his palm once more.
Aard Sign!
Waves of air churned as winds from every direction howled. An invisible psychic blast surged forward with the gale, knocking the rocks aside and sweeping clear everything around Witt.
"Waaah!" Selkirk was also sent flying by the psychic blast.
Fortunately, Witt had controlled the main direction of the Aard Sign's attack. Otherwise, Selkirk would have suffered more than a gust of wind.
"Your Highness!" Several of his men hurried over and helped him up.
One of them angrily pointed at Witt and cursed, "Damned witcher! If you hurt..."
"Enough!" Selkirk barked. Then he stood and brushed the leaves and dust from his clothes. "I was careless. Witt isn't to blame."
Witt, too, watched this "Selkirk" with interest. Someone addressed as Your Highness was probably a king's son. As for whether he was the son of Aedirn's king, Witt could not be sure. After all, he had never met him before.
Seeing that Witt seemed no different than before, Selkirk walked over to him and said, "The contract continues."
"Of course. I'm a witcher with professional ethics. I won't raise the price because my client's identity has changed. Rest assured." Witt smiled and walked into the cave.