Chapter 45: Episode 43

Disclaimer: I don't own Nasuverse or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

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Here's my usual spiel:

You can read way more than 10 Episodes in advanced plus my other fic: Ars Goetia– Antichrist here.

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

A/N: First of the month, boys and girls. Enjoy.

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Our journey back to Crow’s Perch was far less adventurous.

We couldn’t bring all the orphans alongside Anna Strenger, so we decided to fetch a carriage at Downwarren. The Crones’ demises seemed to have had an immediate effect to the village’s surrounding.

Some leaves and trees appeared to have wilted, others even more brilliant and vibrant without the Crones leeching off their life-force. Cows and chickens died in droves, either throwing themselves off high-places or ramming their heads against rocks and walls until their skulls simply fragmented. But, the most noticeably affected must be the humans living in Downwarren.

Gone were the dopey, if somewhat devious smiles.

Gone were religious symbols dedicated to the Crones.

Gone were the people themselves, leaving behind naught but soulless vessels that tried to imitate the personalities they used to have.

Kids jogged mindlessly with drools dripping from the corners of their mouths, adults could barely even walk straight. Their bodies were there still, but their minds, their souls– The persons inside just… Weren’t. All that’s left were empty husks masquerading as people, and failing miserably in the process. Ciri was upset about their situation, but there was nothing that could be done for these villagers anymore.

The best option would be to put them out of their misery.

The Witcheress disagreed, but once I told her their souls were gone, likely taken along on a ride to whichever Hell Brewess and Whispess were sent to. I also told her as they were, they would just be moving baits for monsters, a place where they would undoubtedly converge to without the Crones’ intimidating presences, which would put nearby strongholds and settlements in danger of being attacked by hordes of those things.

And I wasn’t saying this because I despised the people of Downwarren either.

It’s the truth. Monsters, in spite of their Supernatural nature, were essentially animals. They behaved as wild animals would, communicate in the same way, and like the baboons of Shai Hills, having an entire village to feast upon would desensitize them to humans, making them more aggressive and likely to attack any passersby they might encounter.

It took a little convincing after, but the Witcheress finally agreed to help me round them up. Afterward, I gave them painless deaths via electrocution by [Ansuz]. My mastery of the Spell had grown enough that I could grant them mercy in an instance, too quick for them to feel anything.

Not that they would have felt the pain regardless, seeing as a majority of the village had grouped up and prostrated themselves at the Crones’ burnt religious symbols, slamming their heads on rocks, walls and dirt to the point of bleeding. Even had I not helped ease their ways in the afterlife, they would have probably done so themselves in a week or two at most, and that’s only if they hadn’t died of starvation, dehydration, or both before then.

Naturally, we didn’t let the orphans and Anna witness out deed.

They wouldn’t understand.

Thus, with the corpses of Downwarren becoming ashes and charred bones, we left with heavy hearts. Well, the ashen-haired Witcheress did. Me? I didn’t really care. Those people were a bunch of religious nutjobs who sacrificed their own children to the Crones’ cauldron, just so they could pretend their lives were normal and blessed. All while attempting to convert others to their fucked up, pseudo religion.

I was already plenty merciful to these wretched things.

If Gil were here, she would have blown them all to smithereens the moment she set sight on their settlement of sticks and muds.

It didn’t take long for us to reach Crow’s Perch, what with the Crones and most, if not all of the monsters in the surrounding area deceased. And unlike the first trip, we weren’t lost in the woods thanks to the Crones’ Curse. Speaking about that Curse, two of the Crones’ demises had not broken it at all. It was still there, all smug and shit. In fact, the damned thing wasn’t even weakened in the slightest.

I should have cut down that bitch Weavess first, she was the only one of the Crones to have an easy-escape route. She should have been the priority.

Although that didn’t guarantee the Curse’s destruction, I’d have had the satisfaction of being able to cleave the witch’s head off her shoulders at least…

Initially, I wanted to part ways with Ciri to embark on a journey to collect the Seven Souls first. Eventually, the Witcheress would end up at Kaer Morhen with Geralt anyway, I didn’t have to follow her all over the continent like a lost puppy, but this had put a completely halt to my plan. Now I must accompany her to Novigrad– The center of magic-hating peasants, plus the Eternal Flame devotees, to find Triss Merigold.

All in the hope that the Sorceress could somehow break the damned thing.

The worst part about this? The Rewards to the Crones Quest, an entire new Skill and Exp were unobtainable until Weavess had died by my hands. If anyone, and I did mean anyone, managed to kill her before me? Then that was that. The Skill, the Exp– They were all lost, never to be recovered again. I scowled, running a hand through my hair and cringing at the oily texture and feel of it, it was genuinely revolting.

I had disappointed myself at many things, but the one thing I was always proud of was my personal hygiene. There were days, hotter days when I’d bath twice simply to get rid of the sweats, and now I was stuck in this medieval planet where a simple shower required like a hundred trips to the well. How had our ancestors lived in this condition? The only, only reason I hadn’t caught some nasty diseases was thanks to my unnaturally high VIT.

The fact that my hair now had Crones’ blood stuck on it was making it that much harder to reign in my temper. Combined with Anna Strenger’s constant chattering and my Rewards being withheld, I was about to blow. ‘Damn you, Kotomine Kirei. Damn this Gamer System and its technicality too! Just give me my damned Rewards already.’

“Phillips murdered my childhood friend, and you’re taking me to him?!” My grip on the carriage tightened. Even Ciri was growing increasingly annoyed at the older woman’s rambling, and she had the patient of a saint. “Oh, will you shut the fuck up?! What do you want us to do then? Throw your boney old ass and the orphans in the middle of nowhere? You cheated on the man while he was out risking his life to give you a better life!”

I snapped my head at the woman. “You literally made a deal with the Crones to kill your second-born, simply to spite a man who has done nothing, absolutely nothing but tries to love and care for you, despite the severity of your transgressions!”

I paused, sincerely baffled at the sheer entitlement this woman had. “Does your daughter have any idea whatsoever about your faults in this relationship? Does she know about you killing her unborn sister? Or did you just demonize Phillip Strenger in an attempt to turn her against her own father?”

Anna wisely kept her mouth shut. “It’s not my fucking business how you two deal with your troubles, it’s not my relationship, but don’t fucking expect sympathy out of us when you’re clearly the person in the wrong here!”

Anna Strenger had the nerve, the fucking nerve to frown at me. What an insufferable twat. I smirked tauntingly, eyebrows raised and all as I challenged. “What? You gonna’ screech about how we abused you next? Is that it?! Well, news flash, you old witch-bitch: I don’t care. I like Phillip, he’s a flawed man, but he is good. And honestly? The man is better off without your toxic influence in his life. If it were up to me alone, I’d have left your ass in that shitty swamp to be eaten and devoured by monsters–“

I leaned toward her and snarled. “– Which is exactly what you deserve.”

That shut her right up. Thanks the Gods, I thought she would never stop complaining. Unexpectedly, Ciri made no attempt to intervene, I supposed even the Prophesized Savior of Worlds had a limit to her patience, and Anna Strenger crossed that line. “Pardon me, Mrs. Strenger, but Leonis is correct. My father often told me monsters come in all shapes and sizes, and you undoubtedly are a monster.”

The Witcheress let out a breath. “Which is why I- We consider the children the priority, you are merely an afterthought.”

‘Oh-shit. Get burnt bitch.’ I chuckled, nearly choking on my own saliva as Ciri glared at me. I bit on my lip, a futile, yet commendable attempt I’d say, to keep my growing snickers down. I failed, I failed miserably. Laughter shook my entire body as the orphans, unaware of the context, quickly joined in. Like that, the mood was lifted, even Ciri spotted a hint of a smile on her lips. “You’re an idiot, Scholarly.”

Needless to say, Anna Strenger was the only one dissatisfied, constantly wearing a miserable scowl on her face. I couldn’t get this bitch off my hands and to Phillip’s soon enough. No idea how he had managed to deal with her bullshit for this long, man must be a masochist or something. A few minutes later, silence returned and we went on our way in relative peace.

There were troubles, sure.

The orphans were a… Let’s say energetic bunch, and leave it at that. There were times either Ciri or I had to save them from a tough spot, but those were less dangerous and just comedic. I had not a clue what about children falling on their faces that kept touching that primal parts of my brain, telling me to laugh. Still, I got a few good-kicks out of it. As for Ciri, she was less than happy about the whole situation.

I’d catch sight of her glaring at me from the side whenever I chuckled at a minor accident they orphans got themselves into.

Obviously, they weren’t seriously hurt. I was fast enough that I could rescue them from the more dangerous stunts and dicey situations, which’s probably why Ciri was angry in the first place. She didn’t want these kids hurt, but I’d argue it was a necessary part of their developments. Kids were the most carefree of us all, yet that also made them the most reckless. An injury here or there would teach them what they should and shouldn’t do.

“Stop encouraging their behaviors, Leonis.” I raised an eyebrow, a cheeky smile on my face. “I’m not encouraging anything, they did all that on their own.”

“They wouldn’t, if you hadn’t been laughing your ass off on the side.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “What can I say? It’s funny watching them on the swamps, and it’s not like they are really hurt, right? Just go with the flow, they’re kids, them being playful and curious are a good thing.”

“The children being hurt is a good thing?” Ciri stared unblinkingly.

I began, snacking on a potato I had snatched from Downwarren. What? It’s not like they needed it anymore. “Well, Ciri–” I swallowed. “Sometimes, pain can be a great teacher, and it’s better they do these stunts where we can see and help them if needed, than behind our backs and get badly injured, wouldn’t you agree? Beside, we have all been kids once, you should know us stopping them will do nothing but stoke their rebellious spirits.”

Ciri let out a tired sigh, turning to look at the sleeping orphans once more, before replying, resignation thick in her tone. “I suppose…”

The Witcheress kicked her legs back, leaning on the hard wood of the carriage, a lost look marring her features. “Do… Do you think we did the right thing back at Downwarren? I know logically, it makes sense, it’s the lesser of two Evils, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s wrong to simply decide their fates like that. My father– Geralt wouldn’t approve of what we did.”

I glanced back, cautiously watching Anna. I didn’t want her to eavesdrop on our conversation and spin it out of context in Crow’s Perch. She seemed real good at that, if Phillip’s current reputation was anything to go by. That would be a real hassle to deal with.

Thankfully, the old witch-bitch was sleeping. ‘Good.’

At this point, Ciri had told me the basics of what a Witcher was, and who Geralt was, since she didn’t know I was already aware. I must say, Geralt was just as I’d imagine him. He was a hardass with a soft spot for Ciri and Yennefer, a Witcher who tried his best to do right by everyone. If put in the same situation as us, he would have walked away, saying something about ‘It’s not his place to decide others’ fates’ or something along that line.

As much as I loved Geralt, I’d say that’s the wrong course of actions. “Ciri, if you see a person being tortured, and they’ve been crippled by their tormentors, legs, hands all severed, and they’re begging to be put out of their misery… Will you respect their wishes? Or will you try and save them in spite of it?”

The Witcheress kept silent as I continued. “It’s the same situation with the people at Downwarren. In a sense, they are already dead. Those things walking around weren’t humans anymore. Their brain-functions are compromised, and their souls are gone. Trust me, I checked.”

I set my arms on my knees. “I will be honest and say I absolutely loathed those people, and I wouldn’t lose any sleep over their demises, but I wouldn’t have hurt the children. They’re as much victims as others in that village… Maybe we could have done better, maybe we could have tried to save them, bring them to a local lord, but can you guarantee their soulless husks would be cared for, or protected? Or will they just waste away and have their corpses thrown to the animals?”

Ciri sighed, her ashen-hair fluttering gently as a breeze blew our way. “My solution isn’t the best, but it’s the only one we had…”

I stressed, because I didn’t want the guilt of those deaths bearing down on the young woman’s head. She was burdened enough, what with her incestuous father, the elven King of an entire planet planning to make her his breeding-machine and the White Frost prophecy. I could handle a bit of guilt. “… At least their bodies will die with their friends and family, rather than at an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people who despised them for taking up space and foods.”

I grabbed her hand. “I believe Geralt will understand should you choose to tell him.”

A sad smile found itself on her lips as she nodded at me. “Thank you… You didn’t have to–”

“Now, now.” I waggled my finger in her face. “Don’t give me any of that, we are friends, are we not? That’s what friends do for each other.”

We both turned away, staring at the stronghold in the distance. There it was, Crow’s Perch was within sight. I spoke, winking at Ciri. “Let’s hasten our paces, we are almost there. I don’t want to be in Anna Strenger’s presence for a moment longer, I’ll get a stomachache.” The ashen-haired Witcheress chuckled, and while her agreement was not voiced, I could tell she was of the same mind as me: Anna Strenger was a real bitch.

You are reading story Fate: Dead Man’s Lament at novel35.com

Usually, I’d try my best to save people, even in videogames… Yup, never been through a single Mass Effect Renegade path.

But this woman was the sole person I’d have been happy to let rot. She was lucky the Baron needed her, else I’d have left her in that damn swamp.

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

“Anna, my love! You’ve returned.”

I think I got why I was biased toward Phillip Strenger now. He was basically a fatter, drunker version of Santa Claus. The red armor, the beard, the boisterous manner in which he acted… ‘Definitely Santa.’

“Phillip.” Anna, the miserable cow that she was, growled. “Did you send this, this thug to rescue me?!”

She said, pointing at me, presumably shaking from anger. The Baron looked confused, but he didn’t reply, instead opting to draw her into his embrace, only to be refused as the Bloody Lady took several steps back. “Drunk already I see.”

‘By Gil’s golden grace.’ I pressed on my temples. If his wife was like this endlessly, then it’s no wonder the Baron spent his days drinking himself to an early grave. I loathed alcohols with a passion, but the mere act of interacting with her made me want to down bottles, she just seemed to suck the happiness out of everything, and I had only stayed with her for a morning at best. “Phillip, I’ll give you two–”

I glanced at Anna, who was scowling at me angrily. “– Some privacy. There are some orphans we brought back, I hope you can give them all a home. Ciri and I will leave for Novigrad first thing tomorrow, we can’t take care of them. Beyond that, I was hoping we could talk later?”

“You two rescued my wife! I’ll give you anything you desire, and if it’s a conversation you want, it’s a conversation you’ll get. As for the orphans, I can assure you, they’re in safe hands.” The drunken Baron waved us off, pulling his wife with as much gentleness a giant like him could manage, and we went our separate ways.

Ciri and I returned to her room to discuss our plan. We didn’t speak, which was fine by me. I was still worried about the Curse, it hadn’t strengthened per say, but it hadn’t weakened either. The Bounded Field at its core was just that, a stop-gap measure that might cease to work, and the longer I was under the Curse’s effects, the more anxious I felt. It’s the reason I decided to follow the Witcheress to Novigrad in the first place.

To search for a way to break its hold on me.

Silently, I muttered. ‘What are the odds of Triss successfully breaking the Crones’ Curse?’

72.5%

‘Phew… That’s more than I can ask for.’ So it’s almost guaranteed Triss could help me, and with her characterization in Witcher 3, she should be more than willing to. Still, maybe I should prepare a gift, if only to ease my way in her group of Sorcerers and Sorceresses. It never hurt to have more friends after all, and I might even get something for my troubles, namely their Spells and magical knowledge.

That little clothing and undressing Spell Triss used in the second installment? Looked super helpful.

* Wink-Wink.

“Well…” Ciri set her blade on the nightstand, freefalling on her bed with a thump. “We’re leaving Crow’s Perch at last. Triss should be in Novigrad, she’ll be able to break your Curse.”

Of that, I had no doubt, but– “What are the plans? We can’t just walk into the city and hope we will stumble upon her. Novigrad is the heart of the Eternal Flame, a place where both you and I are more likely to be burnt on pyres and robbed of our possessions than to find this Sorceress.”

“I have contact there, Dandelion is his name. He’s a bard– A famous one, he’ll know her location.” I raised an eyebrow. I knew where this going. Ciri and Dandelion would try to find Triss through Whoreson Jr. No, I wasn’t kidding, that’s his actual title. He’s a twisted fuck who kidnapped girls, then raped and tortured them. Worse was, the little shit was sponsored by the King of rabid dogs– Radovid himself.

“And if he doesn’t have that information? What do we do then?” Ciri stared, just stared unblinkingly. I forgot, while the Witcheress was a skilled swordswoman, one incredibly knowledgeable about monsters thanks to her childhood, she wasn’t the type to plan things too far ahead. No, I wasn’t judging her, I was the same after all, that’s merely an observation of her character. “I- I don’t know, we’ll try to look for her ourselves?”

“So our plan is basically: Go to Novigrad, stumble about until we manage to meet this illusive Sorceress, and hope for the best.” I spoke skeptically, deadpanning at the ashen-haired Witcheress. “Uhmmm… Yes?”

.

..

…

“Cool.” I clapped my hands cheerfully. “Let’s prepare then, our luggage won’t pack themselves. We leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Wait! That’s it?!” Ciri’s lips twitched exasperatedly. “That’s all you’re going to say after that?”

“Yup. I mean, unless you’ve suddenly thought of another, better plan, I don’t see how else we’re supposed to do this.” I nodded triumphantly, seemingly proud of the conclusion I had come up with. “Then what’s with the judgmental talk?”

Ciri seemed crossed.

I grinned and bowed tauntingly. “I was just messing with you, Princess. Who told you to make it so easy and fun to tease you?”

The Witcheress huffed, then took to her feet, pushing me out of her room, meanwhile I just laughed like a madman possessed. “Leave, go pack up your clothes and leave me be, you insolent cretin.”

“I will. See you later, your Royal Highness.” She sent a rag spiraling at me, which I ducked under, scampering teasingly back to my room. “Get out of here, Leonis.”

Again, we parted ways. I went back to my room, it wasn’t a nice-looking room, but it had served its purpose. Thus, I decided to at least clean the place up before we left. I didn’t want the servants to freak the fuck out finding a nekker’s spleen, a wolf’s liver under the bed or something. You shouldn’t be a dick to service workers, been there, done that. Those people had it rough.

I quickly sorted out my materials and documents. What? Did you think I wouldn’t continue my research just because I was in another Universe? Although I had temporarily changed my focus from Temporal-Spatial Magecraft to Bio-Craft, since I genuinely believed it was the more convenient option and quicker path to power, what with the materials I could harvest in this World and all, but the thought of taking a vacation had never crossed my mind.

This wasn’t a vacation to me.

It wasn’t an adventure.

I wasn’t powerful enough to even be allowed  to have thoughts like that.

I was halfway done, before knockings were heard outside my door. “Sorcerer! The Bloody Baron wants to meetcha’, he’s waiting in his office, don’t make him wait.”

The soldier left as quick as he came. His footsteps thundering away. I wiped my hands with a rag, set it on the small table near the door, and exited the room. Phillip Strenger’s relationship with his family was none of my business, but this whole situation reminded me of a friend I once had. We used to go to the same school, and he was much older than me. Poor guy had his life ruined because he took the wrong wife.

He drowned in pity and alcohols, then one day, just threw himself off the roof.

It’s a shitty situation. The guy was happy always, he helped people all over, but his wife cheated on him while he was on deployment, vilify him to his own kids. They ultimately got a divorce, where the pouty little bitch got over half his stuffs, and he still had to pay alimony to her, despite being the on wronged.

I knew it was none of my business, yet parts of me– The parts that decided to go into social work, a job that basically had no future prospect, wanted to help regardless. “Phillip, can I come in?”

“Aye, lad.” I opened the door, Phillip Strenger was there, sipping on wine, his face portraying none of the boisterous and happiness it did when we brought Anna Strenger back, all I could see was resignation and sadness. My man didn’t deserve this, he had been nothing but kind to Ciri and I, and in Wild Hunt, he had treated Gretka better than her own parents. He was a good person put in a shitty situation. “You doing okay?”

He chuckled. “That obvious, aye?”

“Yup.” I popped awkwardly. “You wanna’ talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” The man chuckled, swirling his giant wine cup as he gazed into its depth, seemingly hypnotized by its beautiful color. “I fell in love with her… Was in a battle, got a spear to my stomach. Woman spent days nursing me back to health, and I fell hopelessly in love. Proposed to her the day my wounds healed, got on me knees and everything.”

The Baron slammed down his drink. “But it’s not enough. It’s never enough. I went to battlefield after battlefield, all in an effort to give her the best life, to make her happy. I thought she was waiting for me, taking care of our daughter and the house alone, and it made me feel so guilty. Only, she wasn’t alone, she was with someone else! A childhood friend she said, wouldn’t admit to their elicit relationship until I caught them red-handed, fucking on our marital bed!”

Suddenly, it seemed as if the winds were knocked out of him. Phillip slumped in his seat. “The bed we shared with each other, she brought him there… So I did what any sane man would, and wrangle the bastard’s damned neck. She has never forgiven me since, always saying how I killed the love of her life, that I– I made her miserable, that my drinking was at fault for our failing marriage.”

Phillip punched the desk, sending splinters of woods all over, while I silently let the man rant. “WHOSE?! Whose fault was it that I have to drink my sorrows away day after day?! I ask you, WHOSE?! I gave her everything she could have wanted! I have never once hurt her even in my drunken rage, I apologized over and over… But it’s still not enough, she murdered our– My unborn child.”

“… It’s gonna be alright, you have a daughter and the orphans to care for, do you not?” Phillip chuckled, yet there was no amusement to be found in his voice, it sounded hollow to my ears, and as I watched Phillip, I didn’t see a powerful commander, or the dreaded Bloody Baron, all I saw was a broken-man. “What use is there, Tamara will always take her mother’s side regardless.”

I leaned into my seat. “Have you ever told her the truth? Told her what her mother has done and will continue to do?”

Phillip shook as I continued. “Then explain it to her. Tell her the truth– Not the biased version fed to her by your wife, but the truth. Your side of the story. As of right now, all she can remember and see is her weak mother constantly cursing and blaming you– A man who’s miles bigger and stronger than Anna could ever be. Of course, she’ll take Anna’s side, she doesn’t know any better, you’ve been vilified her whole life.”

I looked Phillip in the eyes. “Tell her the truth, it might not salvage this situation, and she might still not forgive you for those perceived slights, but I believe one day, when she’s older, wiser, she will understand. She’ll look at things your way.”

I took to my feet. “I want to tell you your daughter– Tamara is in Novigrad. Don’t ask me how I know, all I can say is Magecraft and leave it at that. Ciri and I will leave for the city first thing tomorrow, if I meet her, I’ll her about the situation at Crow’s Perch.”

Phillip stayed quiet, but I could hear his breathing quickening at the mention of his daughter. “You are a good man, Phillip Strenger. You’re flawed, but is there anyone who isn’t? Nobody can expect perfection out of you, and they shouldn’t. It’s sad, but the reality is fathers are underappreciated, especially good ones. Although I do believe you should strive to be a better person, I also think you’ve tried to make the best out of a bad situation.”

I reached the door, swinging it open as Phillip began to sob into his hands, his cries muffled by his meaty fingers. These cries, however, did not contain sadness or guilt, but a sense of relief. Sometimes, all we needed was to be valued and appreciated, and Phillip Strenger was a man in desperate need of both. He had spent the majority of his life hated by his own child, scorned by his wife and insulted by his own troops whenever they thought he couldn’t hear it.

He deserved this. “Don’t give up, my friend. I know it sounds odd, but things will get better. As it stands, the only way things could develop is ironically up, don’t you agree?”

I closed the door to give him some privacy, yet that did nothing to silence his wails. A memory surfaced to my mind, a memory of my own father begging for forgiveness, apologizing for being himself, for abandoning my sister and I when we needed him the most. Perhaps, that’s why I liked Phillip so much? He was ultimately a flawed human being, yet the simple fact that he had tried to be a good father to Tamara made him worth that much more in my eyes.

I couldn’t ever hate Phillip, just as I couldn’t hate my own parents for their faults.

“Is something wrong?” Ciri appeared from the darkness, her gaze filled with worry as she stared at Phillip’s office. Just from her movements alone, I could tell she wanted to check on him, but I stopped her. “He’ll be fine, Ciri.”

“But–“ Again, I shook, stopping the Witcheress in her track. “Don’t interrupt him, the man needs this. Let him cry it out before the weight of it all eats him up from the inside.”

Ciri looked skeptical at my judgement, but she nevertheless relented.

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