The Divine Hunter

Chapter 195: Same Brand

As Grant had promised, the soldiers returned to the fortress by noon. They brought confirmation that the witchers had killed all monsters in the tomb. The butler warmed up to the witchers after he knew that. “A feast shall be held in honor of you, witchers. The baron usually wakes up at two. He shall thank you in person then.”

The request to search the basement was approved as well. “As butler of the fortress, I can give you permission to search the two lowermost floors of the fortress. You will need the baron’s permission if you wish to search more than that.”

“That’s fine by us.” The witchers did not ask for more, and they went with a servant to start their search. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. All the found was evidence of petty thefts done by the servants. There were no magical vibrations or proof that a banshee was around.

They did find something useful, however. The witchers found where the kitchen was, and they could make a rough sketch of the structure of the fortress. They also memorized the patrol schedule.

***

The witchers had a sumptuous feast in the afternoon. Not long after that, the butler led them to the meeting room on the third floor. It was a spacious room, and there were braziers in all four corners. They were all lit up, illuminating the room with warmth and light.

A pudgy, drunken middle-aged man sat on a leather sofa in the center. He was wearing a dark crimson shirt and white vest. He had dark red hair, and his face was bloated, while his skin sagged. His eyes were as black as night, and they glinted with a cunning light. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes as well. He was sitting with his legs spread wide open. The baron looked exhausted, and he kept yawning. A servant was standing behind him, massaging his shoulders.

‘Ignatius Verrieres

Age: Twenty-two years old

Status: Baron of the White Orchard, member of the Verrieres family’

Roy looked through his stats. He was already severely damaged from the excess alcohol, making him weaker than most people. He’s gonna die soon at this rate. “Lord baron of the White Orchard, we are—”

“Grant told me about you, great witchers from the… Viper School. Roy and Letho, correct?” Ignatius smiled weakly and sat up straight.

“You flatter us. We’re just drifters wandering on this land. We are no great men.”

“I am not joking.” Ignatius looked at them solemnly. “You managed to vanquish all the monsters infesting the tomb. You are more capable than those incompetent fools. This honor is well deserved.” He emphasized, “You have my gratitude.” He handed a check to the servant behind him, and she gave it to the witchers. “This is a check worth two hundred crowns. You can exchange it at any Bank of Vivaldi on this land. A token of my appreciation.”

Looks like I didn’t spare your ancestors’ coffins for nothing. The witchers exchanged looks, and Roy tucked the check away.

Ignatius nodded approvingly. “From now on, you shall be the Verrieres family’s guests of honor. The fortress is always open to you. And I shall hold a feast to celebrate your deed tonight.”

“The honor is ours.” Letho held his abdomen and bowed.

Roy was a little shocked. The baron was a lot different from what they had heard. The rumors said he was cruel and violent, but now he was being humble and friendly. Not many aristocrats would welcome witchers as guests, but Ignatius did. Did he finally repent and change his ways over the last two years? Judging from the looks of it, he’s not the one who left the runes on those skulls.

Roy decided to probe deeper. “Lord Ignatius, there is something about the tomb I must inform you about.” He glanced at the servant.

Ignatius turned around. “Close the door, Liv!” He turned back to the witchers. “She can be trusted. You can say anything you have to.”

“Very well, then.” Roy shrugged. “When we were clearing the innermost chamber, we realized that someone had tampered with the four coffins in the center.”

“The center coffins in the fifteenth chamber are tampered with?” Ignatius froze, and he sounded nervous.

Roy stared at Ignatius, observing his every change. He slowly said, “According to the engravings on the coffins, one of them belongs to your mother—Mary Verrieres. However, her remains are missing, and she has become… a banshee.”

“What?” Ignatius shouted and shot up from the sofa. It was then Roy noticed that he was a towering man just like Letho. However, the excessive drinking destroyed his health and made him hunch a little.

He quickly went up to the witcher and roared, “Who dares defile my family’s remains? Graverobbers? No, they couldn’t have gotten to the innermost chamber with all those monsters on the prowl.” He stared down, mumbling to himself. “Mary is a… a banshee? Impossible. Dear Mary couldn’t have been turned into a monster…” He suddenly looked up and questioned, “What happened, witcher?”

“I’m sorry, but…” Roy took a step forward and looked straight into the eyes of the baron, and he quickly made a sign in the air. “You should know why this happened, lord baron. Think back on what you did over the last few years.”

Ignatius was blocking his servant’s sight, and she did not notice what Roy had done. All she heard was Roy saying something vague, and Ignatius blanched. He started trembling, as if he were having an episode of fits. The baron staggered backward and finally plopped down on the sofa. “Is this punishment?” Ignatius’ face turned red, and his eyes were bloodshot. “Witcher, are the gods punishing me for my old, foolish ways?”

The witchers were silent. They did not expect Ignatius to have such a big reaction.

Ignatius said weakly, “John, Florian, and Mary… One by one, all of them died horribly. Monsters appeared out of nowhere in the tomb, my family’s remains are defiled, and now I’m too weak to even continue my family’s bloodline. This must be divine retribution.” He stared down at his hands, as if in a trance. His eyes glinted with disgust and fear, and he said, “I am a butcher with blood on my hands. I am a sinner who killed my family and people.”

His servant quickly handed him a glass of wine. “Baron, please do not blame yourself for this. Have this. It’ll be fine once you sleep.” She looked at the witchers carefully. “Witchers, what have you done to the baron? Is this a spell?”

“No. We just forced him to face himself.”

“No, Liv. This is not their fault, and please don’t give me any more wine.” Ignatius shook his head, and he said in a trance, “Wine can numb my body, but it can’t numb my soul. Every time I open my eyes, I face a world of pain and torture. I would do anything to reunite with them in the afterworld, but I can’t let our bloodline die out.”

“Do you regret what you did?” The witchers came closer to him.

“Regret is useless. I, Ignatius Verrieres, am the one who’s responsible for the state I am in today. Regret won’t change that.” Ignatius buried his hands in his hair and ruffled it, then he started crying.

The witchers looked at the back of the baron’s head, and they froze for a few moments.

“I agreed with you at first, but please forgive my impudence, baron.” Roy came up to the baron, and much to his surprise, the young witcher held the back of his head down and pried his hair away.

“Cease this at once, witcher! Do not harm the baron! I’m calling the guards!”

“Don’t worry.” Letho glanced at the servant coldly, and the fierce gaze shut her up. “We won’t hurt your baron. We’re just trying to confirm something.”

A moment later, a familiar rune that was hidden underneath the hair became visible for all. It read, ‘Po?wi?ca?si?’

“So this rune existed when the victims were still alive.” The witchers exchanged a look. “Baron, do you know that you have a mark on the back of your head?”

“Of course I do,” Ignatius answered. “This is the birthmark of the Verrieres family and the proof of our bloodline. All direct members of the bloodline are born with this.”

“Including your grandparents?”

“Yes. Is something the matter? What are you trying to say?” Ignatius stopped sobbing. The confusing questions were starting to make him nervous instead.

Letho gazed at the baron. “Baron, I can tell you for sure that your family’s death is not related to your drinking problems or past mistakes. That mark on the back of your head is no ordinary birthmark. It’s a mark of sorcery.” Letho said, “In Elder Speech, that mark means ‘sacrifice.'”

The baron felt a chill run up his spine and squeeze his heart. He opened his mouth to say something, but not a word could come out, and the muscles on his face jiggled.

The servant quietly stayed away from the baron as well. “Sacrifice? Gods! Did a demon turn the master and his family into sacrifices?” For most villagers, sorcery was a worse term than magic, for it was related to evil.

Ignatius asked raspily, “That’s the reason for the end of the Verrieres bloodline too? Wh-What proof do you have?”

“Proof?” The witcher glanced at the baron and spooked him. “Think about how your family died. Did you really kill those innocent villagers and abuse your power because you got drunk? Or were you controlled by something more sinister?”

The baron took a trip down a dark memory lane. He remembered what his grandparents told him when he was a child. They said, “Ignatius, this is the proof of our family’s bloodline. It’s a lucky charm.”

He remembered the weird incidents that happened to his grandparents as well as his uncontrollable fits that would act up from time to time. He started to believe what the witchers were saying, and the baron blamed all his past sins to an unknown demon. “No, this is not the birthmark’s problem. Something else is at play here,” he muttered under his breath, and he held the witcher’s wrist. “You will help me, right, witchers? I will reward you. In the name of my family, I promise that the reward will be far more handsome this time.”

“Money can’t buy everything.” Letho shook his head and backed away.

“What do you mean, Letho?”

“You need to pay for your sins.” Roy stood before the baron. “Do you remember the witcher who died in the tomb two years ago because of a false accusation? His name is Kolgrim.”

Ignatius’ jaw dropped. Roy waved his hand in the air, and the skeletal remains of Kolgrim appeared on the ground before him. The servant’s eyes rolled back, and she almost blacked out, but Ignatius managed to stay conscious, albeit barely.

“Do not worry. This is just a simple trick. Witchers have friends that know magic, alright? I’m not going to threaten you. This is just going to be a trade.”

Letho tugged on his arm, but Roy ignored him. He announced, “The aristocrat of Temeria, owner of the White Orchard, Baron Ignatius Verrieres, will you beg for forgiveness from Kolgrim, a Viper School witcher who died because of your decision?”

Ignatius’ face was red with humiliation, and he gurgled. The witcher was still staring at him, passing judgment as if he had seen through all the baron’s crimes. “If you beg for Kolgrim’s forgiveness, then we shall show mercy and consider your appeal. We might accept your request and find out the source of your family’s misfortune.”

***

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