Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 568 569. War and Smallpox

When the two came back, Geralt suddenly raised his hand to stop them from getting too close. At the same time, he pulled Ciri behind him to keep distance from them.

"Did you touch anything in that yard? Anything?"

Geralt asked cautiously.

Witchers are immune to disease, but Dandelion and Ciri are just human beings. The plague is as deadly to them as the sword.

"No, no, that dog won't let us get close."

Dandelion felt as if his tongue was knotted with nervousness.

"You should thank that mutt, forget about Gerd." Geralt looked up at the sky, "May the gods grant it a long life and a pile of bones higher than the Amer Mountains. That girl, from the house Come out, do you have blisters on your body?"

"No, she is healthy. Her relatives were infected, and they are all in another wooden house. She also said that many people have died. God, Geralt, the wind is blowing towards us!"

"There's nothing to be afraid of." Geralt waved his hand.

"As long as you haven't touched a smallpox patient, you don't have to worry at all. If there is any smallpox. Maybe the girl just wants to scare you away."

"No." Gede acted much calmer than the poet, "There is a pit behind the house, and there are corpses in it. The girl didn't have the strength to bury the dead, so she had to throw them into the pit."

"Okay." Geralt sighed and slowly reset the string on the crossbow.

Thanks to the exchange of ideas with Lan En, the Wolf School is now equipped with crossbows, that is, hand crossbows.

"Although the milk oatmeal porridge smells good, we are not lucky enough to eat it."

"But you and Gerd can drink?" Ciri said while tugging on Geralt's clothes.

"Yes, we can drink. But then we have to come into contact with the patient's room and equipment. There is no guarantee that we won't bring something out, which will cause disaster to you and Dandelion."

After saying that, the group of four prepared to turn around and leave.

However, the dog in the yard started barking again.

"Get down," the white-haired witcher hissed, leaning down.

A group of riders appeared across the clearing, where there was a gap between the trees. Whistling and shouting, they galloped around the farm and then rushed into the yard.

Under the dim torchlight, the great sun wheel emblem on those people's clothes was very conspicuous.

"Twenty-seven." Gede quickly counted the number of people.

"Who are they?" Dandelion quickly lay down on the ground and pressed the heron feather on his hat with one hand, raising his head and asking.

"It's a Nilfgaardian," Geralt assessed. "Look at those shiny black armors on their bodies! Glazed steel armor!"

Riders yelled and cavorted around the yard. One of them hit the dog with the handle of his spear, causing it to run away quickly. The girl with the pigtails ran out of the house, yelling again.

But this time, her warning had no effect because those people didn't take it seriously at all. A rider galloped forward, grabbed the girl by one of her braids, and dragged her away from the door and through the moonlight-reflecting mud.

The others jumped off their horses and dragged the girl to the other end of the yard. They tore off her petticoat and threw her on a pile of rotting straw.

The girl struggled hard, but how could she be a match for these thugs?

Only one soldier was not enjoying himself: he was guarding the horses tied to the fence.

The girl let out a long, piercing scream, followed by a short cry of pain. After that, she was silent.

"These are Nilfgaardian soldiers!" Ciri's originally smiling face suddenly turned gloomy.

"These are the soldiers they claim are 'civilized' and 'noble'!"

Geralt originally thought that he would have to put his hand on Ciri's shoulder to stop this little girl who had just experienced a tragedy from doing something stupid.

But he soon remembered again: the little girl who had experienced the tragedy was still lively and energetic, but she had corrected her impulsiveness a lot.

This is called ‘growth’.

But now, Geralt actually hopes that Ciri will still be the same person, running rampant in the Broklon Forest.

Dandelion pressed the heron feather on his hat and shook his head: "These people are obviously not afraid of smallpox anymore, or they think that smallpox is just an excuse used by this girl to avoid them. Meritelli, twenty-seven strong men, that girl You will be played to death by them!”

"But they are not afraid of smallpox, but they should always be afraid of swords!"

Gede's tone was calm and dangerous.

His hand wearing a studded leather glove also touched the hilt of the sword behind his shoulder.

"Are you crazy?" Dandelion looked at him from under Gede's thick beard in horror, "Those are twenty-seven Nilfgaardian soldiers! They are well-trained, with sharp swords and shiny armor! They are not twenty-seven rogues. And the mob!”

"So? You want us to stand by, Dandelion?"

Geralt spoke from the side, which made the famous poet become even more frightened, shrinking like a rabbit that had just been driven out of the hole.

The white-haired witcher tightened the leather rope that tied his hair tightly again. Ciri's shining eyes looked up at him, and he was also looking into the little girl's eyes.

"No, Dandelion. I've had enough of people acting like monsters in front of me."

A scary smile appeared silently in the middle of Gede's beard.

"Are you crazy..." Dandelion yelled, "You want to deal with a whole group of people? What the hell has got you? Do you want to play hero and save the beauty?"

"Shut up," Geralt shouted without looking back.

"Okay, okay!" Dandelion was a little disappointed. "What about me? I have to come with you too! Let me do something!"

"You can't do anything, stay here with me." Ciri walked up to the poet and said.

But the poet turned around and pressed her shoulders, pushing her further back.

"Shut up too! Little girl!"

Although the poet was trembling, his tone became more determined.

"I followed Geralt through countless dangers that you wouldn't even dare to think about! What does this mean? You want me to quit at this point?!"

"I haven't practiced anything that can hurt people, but I can throw stones at least! I will throw stones at those guys from the side. Even if they separate a few people and rush to kill me, you will at least be less stressed! "

The poet's words seemed like he was ready to die heroically, making Gerd and Geralt couldn't help laughing at the same time.

This made Dandelion say dissatisfiedly: "Why are you laughing? I'm serious!"

"No one thinks you are serious, great poet." Ged patted Dandelion on the shoulder.

"But it's not that bad. You'll live to tell everyone about this day."

Then, in the dark night, two demon hunters walked out of their hidden position, and a poet came out from the side.

The demon hunters drew steel swords from their backs with their right hands, and at the same time raised their strung crossbows with their left hands, pointing at the group of 'people' who were baring their teeth and claws under the light of the torch.

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