Chapter 44: Returning the Corpse

It was impossible for Roy to take Toya with him to Cintra and then Aretuza. It was unrealistic, and Letho wouldn’t agree to bring more deadweight with him on the way to the trial. I need help from someone else.

The only powerful people he knew in Aldersberg were Seville Hoger, the wine dealer, and Cardell, the principal of the House of Cardell, as well as a member of the revolution. If he wanted to send Toya to Aretuza, which was a thousand mile away, they were his only hope.

***

The sun shone brightly that day. Seville was enjoying the sun on his recliner in his residence. It had almost been a month since the ‘exorcism,’ and life had been well since then. His circles were almost gone, he’d gained more weight, and his hair and beard were looking slick.

“Been a while, Roy. You’ve been living well in Aldersberg.” Seville beckoned a freckled, bearded maid who came with a bottle of honeyed wine. She filled the glasses and left quickly. “You seem taller and stronger now, though you still don’t have a beard. Ah, but you’re a lot more manly now. Been having dwarven liquor every day?”

Roy was sitting on the cane chair beside Seville. He sipped the honeyed wine, and the sweet taste spread gently within his mouth. He replied, “Of course, Mr. Seville. Dwarven liquor is on a whole other level compared to the fake, crude wine. How are you doing? Are the nightmares still haunting you after the hym was destroyed?”

“The nightmares are gone, thanks to you and Letho.” He roared in laughter. “Now I’m once again the strong and lively squirrel of Mahakam.” He clumsily turned around and held his chin with one hand while looking at Roy. “But I think about my poor friend, Ken, at night sometimes. He’s still in the barrel, and then there goes my appetite.” He paused, then Seville hinted something at him. “I wonder when Ken’s body will be returned to its rightful place. He needs to rest in peace. Oh, right, Roy. I didn’t see Letho today.”

“He’s out for business. Still hasn’t come back.” Roy asked, “Why don’t I help you settle the matter, Mr. Seville?”

“Roy, if I’m guessing this right…” Seville rubbed his beard, his gaze doubtful. “You’re saying you’d hand Ken’s body back to the revolutionists alone, and nobody would see you?”

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“Yes, Mr. Seville.” Roy’s eyes gleamed, but he didn’t panic, looking reassured. “Will you let me handle this?”

Half an hour later, a pale man’s body lay on the ground, his eyes closed, his limbs twisted in unnatural angles. At the same time, the strong scent of alcohol and the faint stench of the body assailed Roy. His eyes widened, and he stared unblinkingly at the famous man, the leader of the revolutionists — Vernon Ryan. He was also Ken, Seville’s brother, the thinker who never drank a drop of wine, but died because of it.

The body was wearing a grey shirt that was standard to peasants and people who did manual labor, as well as a pair of tight, black pants. His limbs were slender, and so was his body. His ears were pointed at the tips, his nose was hooked, and his lower jawline was sharp. The cheekbones that jutted out spoke of his elven bloodline.

There was a hint of terror on his face, perhaps from the fear he felt before his death. His arms were limp by his sides. It was as if he’d tried to grab onto something, but had failed. The body was wrinkled from being soaked for so long, and disgusting patches were seen on his torso. It was just like a specimen that had been soaked in formalin, like they did in his past life. No, this one’s creepier, and I’m here to witness it.

Seville looked pained, but also melancholic, and he covered his nose. “I’ve taken him out as you asked, Roy. What will you do next? Smuggling him out at night is impossible. I heard the revolutionists are going for a second march before Saovine, and the baron’s men are watching us.”

“Want to see a trick, Mr. Seville?” Roy went up to the body and observed the limbs. He tugged at the body’s pants and noticed a peculiar tattoo on the right heel. It was in the shape of a handful of thick, curled fur. Wait, that’s a squirrel’s tail. He frowned, then had a guess, but he didn’t tell the dwarf. Instead, he touched the body, and Vernon Ryan was nowhere to be found.

“What?” Seville’s jaw dropped. “How did you do it, Roy? Are you a sorcerer on top of a witcher’s disciple? Do you know how to cast teleportation spells?”

“This is a secret. I’ll need you to keep this a secret for me, Mr. Seville,” Roy requested.

“Very well then. Dwarves are very respectful of our friends’ secrets,” Seville assured. “And please take this as my token of apology. I shouldn’t have doubted you. The baron’s lackeys couldn’t imagine you to possess this skill. So, will the reward be the same as how we’ve negotiated?”

“Why don’t we leave it until after I’ve finished the request?”

“No problem,” Seville answered. “You’ll be my buddy if you finish this. And I always treat my buddies well.”

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***

It had been harrowing for Cardell over the last few days. Her stomach was heavily injured in the fight against the childhunter, and it was still throbbing. Then the revolutionists brought bad news. The second march wasn’t going too well. The baron’s bloody counter scared off the opportunists who were weak in their conviction. Even though it was nearly the day of the march, they only managed to rally fifty people. With that amount of people, they would only be seen as a joke.

Cardell sighed. It’d be great if everyone was like Roy. He’s smart, brave, knows how to fight, and isn’t afraid of monsters. It’s a pity he’s a witcher’s disciple. He’s not going to stay long. Cardell went back to her office, feeling crestfallen, but the moment she went in, the strong smell of alcohol wafted across her. She frowned, but still she followed the trace to her desk. And then her eyes widened in horror.

There was a body under her table. The face was bloated and pale, but she would recognize it even if it turned to ash, and she felt her soul leave her. “The great leader and my mentor, Vernon, is dead?”

Roy was in the yard, caressing the hornbeam. He saw Cardell going into her office, then she came out with a letter, looking furious, and he sighed. “I didn’t want to scare you, but you’re the only revolutionist I know. I’m sorry. Take it as the meal you owe me.”

***

“So the House of Cardell’s principal is the revolutionists’ top brass.” Seville nodded in approval after listening to the report. “My sources had known that something was wrong with the school, and I had my own suspicions, but there was no evidence. Good work, Roy. The baron’s lackeys didn’t notice you, and my friend, Ken, is finally back to the place he wanted.”

Seville extended his hand and said, “A promise is a promise. I told you you were my buddy if you settled this matter for me. No need to be formal, Roy. What do you need? Money, wine, or weapons?” Seville knew Roy must’ve had something to ask from him the moment he took the request. “Or do you need my help? I’ll do it if I can.”

Roy hadn’t expected the request they’d set aside when they’d come to Aldersberg to help him to this extent. He hadn’t gone through much for it, since it’d just been a delivery request. “Mr. Seville — ”

“Call me Seville, Roy. It’d be rude if you kept the honorific.”

“Oh, um… Seville,” Roy said, correcting himself, though he couldn’t imagine being buddies with a septuagenarian. Formalities, I guess. “Do you know any sorcerers? Someone who lives near Aldersberg, and it’d be best if they were a sorceress from Aretuza.”

Seville pinched his beard and gave it some thought. “Sorry, Roy. As far as I’m concerned, no sorcerer lives near Aldersberg. There’s a black-haired one in Vengerberg, but that’s too far away. Why are you looking for one though?” he asked. “If you trust me, why don’t you spill the beans? Maybe there’s another way to settle this. I don’t mean to brag, but I call some shots in this city.”

Roy thought about it and told him about Toya. Nothing to lose here.

Seville had a weird look on his face once he was done listening, and he looked at Roy as if he were an exotic animal. “Roy, if I’m correct, you’re a witcher’s disciple, and you’re going to be a witcher. Why are you helping an ugly country girl by sending her to Aretuza? She might not even remember you after her training. Just because you pity her?”

He told Seville what he thought. “Don’t you think witchers and sorcerers are alike, Seville? They have a tragic childhood and are forced to make choices they don’t want. I think she should have a chance to choose, and I hope someone will give me a chance if I somehow get into a compromising position someday.”

Seville felt something stir within him after hearing the story. He thought that Roy was interesting, though he wasn’t as handsome as a dwarf, and he laughed. “You’re an interesting guy, Roy. Most witchers I know wouldn’t interfere, but you did. I’ll help you because of the things you said alone. I’ll send a carriage and some dwarves to escort the girl to Thanedd Island. She should have a chance to choose, just like what you said. But whether she can get into Aretuza, well, that depends on her own effort and luck.”

“But it’ll have to wait for a few days.” Seville stood on his tiptoes and grabbed Roy’s shoulder. “It’s nearly Saovine, and I think the coachman has a right to celebrate it. I hope the revolutionists can stop though. I wonder if they’ll pull something crazy, since they did receive their leader’s body out of nowhere.”

“I left a letter for Miss Cardell too,” Roy answered. “It’s a threat letter written à la Sparrow Triad. She might not be fooled, but at least it’ll distract the revolutionists from blindly protesting against the baron. That way, they might not be used for any scheme.”

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