The Divine Hunter

Chapter 200: The Misfortune Continues

The white orchard was basking in the afternoon sunlight, and the clear stream meandered down, going on its own little adventure. The crops on the fields and the succulent fruits on the trees swayed as the breeze brushed across them, while birds sang in the air.

It was a different sight on the other side of the village, however. The streets were narrow, squalid, and deserted, while the scarce huts stood haphazardly. Most of the houses were uninhabited, and cobwebs filled them.

A look of surprise painted Ignatius’ face, and his jaw dropped. “What happened to the orchard? Where is everyone?”

“Sir, did you forget what happened last year?” Grant whispered.

“Last year? Oh, right.” Ignatius was reminded of that cruel, ludicrous night. He had too much to drink and committed a string of heinous crimes in the village. The villagers were aghast, and they left the orchard. Most of the orchard was deserted after all the death and abandonment left in the wake of the baron.

Ignatius stared down at his hands. He could still see the blood of the innocent on his fingers, and the victims’ cries lingered around him.

“Please do not blame yourself, sir. The peasants did throw slurs and vulgarities at you. What happened was them reaping what they sowed. And you did exempt the remaining villagers’ taxes.”

“It’s a bit too late to repent, don’t you think, baron?” Letho looked at him coolly. If he was there to witness that massacre, Letho might have helped the villagers out, but it was too late for any what ifs. There was no point in condemning the baron anymore.

Most, if not all members of royalty, had blood of the peasants on their hands. Witchers were no judge or jury. They could never dish out punishment for every single crime committed by the aristocracy. Roy knew that witchers might not be exactly angels, but they were no demons either. They could only help as much as they could.

***

The group went to the houses located in the eastern part of the village. While they were on their way there, they could see the occasional villager lounging in their yard, looking listless. When the witchers first came to the village, the same villager did not even give them a second of her time.

It was different when the baron made his appearance, though. The villager lost her composure and ran back into her house, as if she were a mouse who saw a cat. She also let out a scream that would put any opera singer to shame, and she locked her door tightly, as if a vile beast were facing her.

Ignatius let out a sigh, wearing a solemn look on his face. Not long after that, they ran into the same snotty boy they saw last time. He was teasing a stray dog happily beside the warehouse, but when he looked up and saw the baron, the boy froze. As if struck by lightning, he started trembling, and his chest heaved. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the boy fell down like a wooden stake blown back by a gust of wind.

Ignatius’ face fell, though he also seemed a bit awkward.

“You don’t seem to be well-liked here, baron.”

Roy suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around. He then scanned his surroundings quickly, as if he were to looking for something. Roy was not acting like himself. He looked like a patient who was out of his mind, and he kept looking around himself. When they went past the inn, he stole glances through the window, but there was nobody besides the innkeep. He did not see the customer he saw last time either.

“What are you doing, kid? I thought we figured out what happened. Why are you looking so nervous?” Letho was getting confused about Roy’s actions.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Roy tensed up, the look on his face grim.

“Is it an omen? Did you feel something?”

“Not sure. I hope I’m just feeling things.” Roy felt a sense of dread in his heart. When they came near the end of their investigation, he realized that the one who gave the Book of Bones away and taught Jennifer that dark spell to prolong her life unnaturally one hundred years ago might be the legendary Master Mirror—Gaunter O’Dimm himself.

The Master Mirror might look like a messy, wandering merchant who sold mirrors and little trinkets, but he was actually a demon who came from another dimension. It could change into anyone it wanted. Peasants, farmers, artists, butchers, and even drunkards. The demon would wander across worlds in different skins all so it could find great customers whom it could sign a contract with.

The demon was a master manipulator as well. It would usually show up during its client’s darkest hour and make them sign a contract they would never refuse. Contrary to his usual merchandise, the Master Mirror’s real products were much more magical. Unlimited wealth, eternal life, steeds that could run like the wind, swords that could slice anything and everything in the world, wineskin that stored unlimited wine, or even a specific help for a specific problem. Anything could be bought, but the demon only accepted one kind of currency—souls.

“You can have anything you want, but once you have it, you leave your soul behind.”

Gaunter O’Dimm was only second to the gods in terms of danger level for Roy.

***

Was that guy we met in the inn Gaunter’s manifestation? Has it set its eyes on me and tampered with my memories? Roy had questions but no answers, though one thing was for sure. Gaunter would keep a close eye on its possible client for every hour and every day. Roy, however, had no feeling of being watched. “If it was really it, I hope it was just passing by.” If that monster has set its sights on me, it’s going to be bad news. I’m not powerful enough to fight it yet.

***

The late Bram’s house was more like a pigsty made out of wood and hay. There was no one inside at the moment, though the chickens and ducks were making a din in their coop.

Ignatius was not a friendly guest. In a hurry to see his only child, the baron gave his soldiers a look, and one of them kicked the front door open.

“Who are you? Don’t come any closer!” the woman screamed in terror. The baron shoved his soldiers away and darted into the house, while the witchers followed.

The house was divided into two parts. Cooking utensils and racks filled with vegetables and items were laid out neatly. There was also a steel cauldron set over fire, and white smoke billowed in the air, slithering out through the wooden window behind it.

A gaunt woman was standing on the bed, her back against the wall’s corner, as if she were blocking something. Her face was as white as a tombstone, and it was contorted with fear. “Ba-Baron?”

“Yes. It is I, the baron of the White Orchard, Ignatius Verrieres. Is your name Rina?” The baron smiled, but it was an ugly smile. He tried his best to speak softly. “Do not worry. I mean no harm. I just wish to see you.”

“Please, don’t come any closer!” The woman started shaking, as if she was reminded of a painful past. “I do not need your concern, baron. We do not welcome you here.” She looked back nervously. “Please leave immediately.”

Ignatius opened his arms and closed in on the woman, ignoring her request.

“Enough, baron.” Roy stood between him and the woman. “You will force yourself on a helpless woman in front of us? You promised you would never do it.”

“Very well. I apologize for my behavior, madam. I do not wish to scare you.” The baron shrugged, wearing an apologetic look on his face. He slowly backed away, the fat on his body jiggling like jelly. “You have a daughter, don’t you? May I see her? I would do anything…” The baron craned his neck and emphasized, “Anything to make up for the damage I did.”

The woman was standing awkwardly, as if she were protecting someone, and the baron noticed it. “Is there someone behind you? It’s her, isn’t it? May I have a look? Please?”

The baron put his hands together humbly. Ever since he apologized to Kolgrim’s remains, he had put the dignity of his family aside. “The poor girl needs a father, and in my name as baron of the White Orchard, I shall give her the best of what I have.”

“Wait. Di-Did you just say you’d do anything to make it up to me?” Something crossed the woman’s mind, and her fear disappeared. For a moment there, a hint of insanity flashed in her eyes, but it was replaced by confusion and shock.

Ignatius was delighted that the woman was relenting. “Yes, anything. You won’t be disappointed. All you have to do is forgive me for my crimes and let me take the child.”

The woman’s face turned a little red, and she clenched her hands—which were burly from all the farmwork she had to do—tightly. What she said next shocked everyone.

“Then I would want you to marry me, baron. Take me and the child into the fortress.”

Ignatius was surprised to hear that, and so did the witchers. Roy wondered if he was hearing things. A woman who was assaulted wants to marry her assaulter? Doesn’t she feel disgusted in the least?

“You would marry me?” The baron eyed the woman from head to toe. She had decent looks and a curvy body. Even though she was wearing the cheapest clothes money could buy and looked like a country bumpkin, it still could not cover up her beauty.

“I raised the child all by myself after Bram died. I have to spend many hours working in the field and the house, and I have to feed the child. It’s only been a year, but my whole body hurts. I’m just one woman.” Rina spoke of her life over the past year, and tears glimmered in her eyes. “You can take her with you, but you have to take me in as well.” She raised her head, looking agitated. “I’ve been a peasant all my life, and I’ve had it. I’ve had it with cheap clothes and bad food. I want to have new clothes too. And freshly baked bread and meat!”

The woman stared straight into the baron’s eyes and raised her head even higher. She shouted with all her might, “I want to live the life of a lady! I want you to marry me right in front of your people!”

“I, the baron of the White Orchard, agree to your terms, Rina.” The slight jowls on the baron’s cheeks trembled, but he did not hesitate in giving his answer. “Once you and the child are in the fortress, we shall get married.”

It came as nothing short of a shock for Roy. He massaged his temples, disbelief still painting his face. He’s a baron, and she’s a village woman, but they got engaged just like that?

“Not the most shocking thing you’ll see in life, kid. You’ll run into a lot more of this stuff. A baron marrying the woman he assaulted before is one of the tamer ones,” Letho whispered calmly. “I’ve seen someone marrying the person who killed their parents.”

“But she’s his victim, and he’s her assaulter.”

“Humans are complicated. Do you really think that woman will actually stay loyal after she marries him? I don’t think so.” Letho noticed the desire that flashed in the woman’s eyes earlier, and he could guess what the woman would do after she became the baroness.

“What do you mean?”

Letho did not answer that question. “Let’s go. See if we can find any specter dust here. What happens to Ignatius from now on is his problem, not ours.”

***

“Honey? Honey, my dear girl. I’m here.” A petite baby was lying in the cradle, covered in white cloth. She was about one year old, and her skin was fair, her face chubby. She was sucking on her thumb, staring at the stranger before her calmly. The little ruckus that happened earlier did not even faze her.

“Look at her eyes. They’re prettier than obsidian. She’s my child, no question about it! She’s one of the Verrieres family!” The baron extended his hand in delight and pinched the baby’s cheek softly. The baby did not turn away at all. In fact, she extended her short, chubby arms at the baron.

The baron was smiling from ear to ear, and he picked the baby up from the cradle. The infant seemed to like him as well, and she gurgled as he teased her.

“I promise that she is your daughter, baron,” the woman said gently as she stared down at the ground, as if she were already treating him like her husband.

“Baron.” The witchers came back and showed him the specter dust they found under the mat. “See if she has the rune.”

“Yes. Only a member of my bloodline has this. This is my child.” The baron touched the back of the baby’s head and patted the child. “Witchers, why don’t we stop here? You can claim your reward right now at the castle,” he pleaded.

“You would break the promise we made and extend your family’s curse?” Roy approached the cradle, and the baby stopped gurgling. She looked at the one who was coming closer, and the sight of the witcher made her bawl, as if she could feel the malice coming from him.

Roy smiled awkwardly and backed away from the baby. “Am I that terrifying?” He stared at the infant whom the baron was holding. She was petite, chubby, and adorable. In most cases, she would have been a likable little baby, but…

‘Honey

Age: One year old

Gender: Female

Status: Rebirthed (The soul of Jennifer Verrieres, founder of White Orchard’s Verrieres family, used a forbidden spell and possessed Honey’s body.’

She’s a baby with a soul that’s a century old. Roy was put in a dilemma. He could not come up with a plan that could satisfy everyone. What should I do? The only way to break this curse would be to destroy Jennifer’s vessel and the wraith she turns into. If we want to break the Verrieres family’s curse, this infant must die.

He knew that was the case, but he could not bring himself to do it when the time came. She’s just a defenseless infant. “Why didn’t the mutation rob me of my emotions?”

A deep frown furrowed Letho’s brows. He was in a dilemma as well. It would be one thing to destroy a wraith, but another to kill an infant. She’s smaller than my fist.

The witchers looked at each other, and at the same time, they said, “You do it.”

Silence fell between them.

The baron gritted his teeth and handed the infant over. “Look at her, witchers. Look at her smile. She’s just an adorable little girl, but if you can do it, then do it. I won’t stop you.”

“What are you doing, baron?” The woman stood in front of her baby nervously. The look in the eyes of the witchers was unnerving her.

“It’s alright, Rina. The witchers just want to see if Honey’s fine.” Ignatius could see that the witchers were struggling to finish the job, and he heaved a sigh of relief. “Witchers, I will end that ludicrous rule and raise her up into a fine lady. Once she’s of age, I’ll send her to Oxenfurt and keep everything about witchcraft a secret from her. I’ll marry her off to a far, far land. She can’t remember anything without that book.”

“Things are not that simple, baron. As long as she’s alive…” Roy cast a sign and put Rina under hypnosis. He stared straight into the baron’s eyes and said, “Your family’s curse will never be broken, and she’s killing your real daughter in a sense.” His daughter’s poor soul was killed off before she could even grow up.

The baron looked down at the baby he was holding. He said softly but firmly, “She’s the last of my bloodline. I will do anything for her, even if it means keeping this curse.”

The witchers fell into silence.

Why do humans care so much about continuing their bloodline? Roy had no answer to that, but he did not want to kill the baby either, so he came up with an excuse to justify that. Jennifer made a deal with some entity, and that entity could be the Master Mirror. That demon has only ever accepted one kind of currency—souls. If I kill Jennifer off, it would be what the demon wants. Once it has taken Jennifer’s soul, it might come for me next.

Roy decided to let the unknown entity keep chasing Jennifer around just in case he would be the next ‘customer.’ He looked at Letho. Letho could understand why he refused to kill the baby, and he nodded. “Baron, you are a lucky man. Witchers usually never attack humans, especially those who can’t defend themselves. We’ll spare her, but as for the reward…”

“You won’t be disappointed!” The baron looked flushed with delight. “I’ll double it! Four hundred crowns!” he decided.

They came to an agreement, though it was an unexpected one. In the end, the source of the curse—Honey Verrieres—was taken into the fortress, and the baron would raise her.

Once the witchers laid claim to their payment, they left the fortress without hesitation.

***

Dusk had arrived, and the light of a campfire illuminated a patch of the wilderness just outside the White Orchard. Roy tossed the Book of Bones into the flames, watching it as the forbidden book turned into ash.

‘Year 1261, August…’ He whipped his leather journal out and scribbled in it. ‘White Orchard, Amavet Fortress, Verrieres family, a curse… Jennifer Verrieres might have struck a deal with the Master Mirror in her pursuit of eternal youth and life. The price? Her own descendants.’

He put his quill down and took a deep breath. “We’re letting him go just like that?”

“There are fates worse than death,” Letho hinted, taking a swig of dwarven liquor. “Especially when someone has two scheming women staying with him. He’s going to end up worse than Kolgrim did. Maybe the fortress will be gone when we’re here next time, and that is punishment enough.”

The young witcher slapped his journal shut. “I don’t understand. Who’s the father of Mary’s dead child? And who is Florian’s mother anyway? I don’t see Ignatius’ wife anywhere in the fortress.”

“You know the answer to that. You just don’t want to admit it.” Letho cracked his neck and looked up into the night sky. “Remember what the book said? The purer the bloodline, the more memories the caster can keep. I suspect that all the men who married into the family were just a cover, but we should put this behind us. Let’s talk about something happier.” Letho stopped answering, and he asked, “How much money do you have, kid?”

Roy snapped out of his shock. He, too, was interested when it came to money. “Ignatius gave us six hundred crowns in total. We have two thousand and eight hundred crowns now. It’s enough to buy a small house for the four of us in any capital of any northern kingdom.”

“Five. Kolgrim’s staying with us.”

“Yes, but we’ll need a land that can house a manor if we want to revive the school. We need more money for it.”

Letho was relieved to hear Roy say that. He thought Roy was a stingy one, but he knew that the money would be all spent if he was the one in charge of the financials.

“Next it’s the materials, and we can start some blacksmithing.” Roy looked excited.

“Not so fast.” Letho shook his head. “The materials aside, Kolgrim was the only one who was on par with a master blacksmith. Serrit, Auckes, and I can’t make a perfect recreation of the school’s weapons. We need to find a master blacksmith first.”

“Perhaps I have a solution.” Roy went through his memories and found someone who might be able to help. Next stop, Vizima.

White Orchard Arc: The End

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