The Witcher: Astartes Of The Bear School

Chapter 34: The Pursuit

"Ah-ha! That bastard won't escape now." Phillip exclaimed joyfully, as if capturing the cannibal was already within reach. "Master witcher, you need to lend us a hand again. Let's go chop this bastard up."

As a capable sergeant, Phillip was far from foolish. Now that they had the criminal's characteristics, it would still require a thorough search. But with a witcher—who was sharper than any temple priest—on their side, they might just solve the case today.

Lan thought about the total price of 230 Orens for the task. It hardly seemed appropriate to just come here to kill a couple of ghouls and say a few words.

Moreover...

The young witcher's cat-like eyes narrowed slightly, glinting like a predator's in the shadows. He was genuinely curious about what it felt like to hunt a cannibal.

"Have you secured the crime scene?" Lan asked Phillip, nodding in acknowledgment.

Phillip slapped his belly, the metal of his gauntlets clanging against his armor with a loud "Duang."

"No one is watching the scene, but don't worry. Ever since this incident happened, the villagers are eager to rip that murderer apart, but no one dares approach Duén Hen. Who knows when the goddess's wrath might strike?"

"Understood." Lan nodded slightly. Having happened five or six days ago, if no one had disturbed the scene in the meantime, his witcher senses should be able to find the criminal's footprints directly.

"Then let's move out."

"Alright, men. Mount up."

A group of soldiers marched toward the tavern's stables. The residents of Midcopse cautiously opened their doors just a crack, watching with a mix of fear and anticipation as the soldiers set out to bring the faith-desecrating criminal to justice.

Lan understood that look. In feudal times, the line between soldiers and bandits was often blurred, and the former could be more dangerous due to their superior organization.

Hooves splashed through the muddy rural roads as the group galloped away. Duén Hen was indeed half a day's journey from Midcopse, but that was based on a farmer's pace. The cavalry quickly arrived at their destination in just over an hour.

"Your horse is quite impressive, witcher." After an hour of continuous riding, Phillip was slightly out of breath, rubbing his forehead, still feeling the effects of his hangover.

They had arrived at the crossroads that held such significance for the community. The surrounding villagers dared not approach, but under the fervent emotions of the moment, they had organized some strong young men to patrol with pitchforks and clubs.

Phillip and his soldiers, all clad in standard Temerian armor, gained their trust. He spat and cursed, causing the armed farmers to part ways, allowing them to pass. Lan noted that if a regular merchant were to come through, they'd likely need to offer a few coins or share some goods to get through smoothly. He even spotted a farmer wearing a necklace of garlic.

Phillip, as they moved past, quietly complained to Lan. "That's why we need to wrap this up quickly. Otherwise, these armed farmers will get a taste for blocking roads, and during the off-season, they'll probably take up banditry. Just watch, the number of bandits in this area will rise significantly over the next few months."

Lan didn't nod or respond; he merely moved with the rhythm of his horse. On such topics, he had a deeper understanding than Phillip, who relied solely on experience. But for now, those concerns felt distant.

His education taught him that security issues were never just security issues. Breaking it down, it boiled down to civil issues, transportation problems, funding for governance, and so forth. If one were to delve deeper, it became an enormous topic that could overwhelm anyone's mind.

For now, he was just a witcher. For now, he simply needed to hunt a "cannibal."

"We're here." The young man interrupted Phillip's grumbling. Perhaps due to the urgency of the task, Phillip had momentarily forgotten his family's troubles, and his temperament was at least not bad enough to lash out at anyone he encountered.

The group dismounted a dozen meters from the crossroads. Phillip handed the reins to a subordinate, and Lan also dismounted, with York stepping forward to take his reins.

"Thanks, buddy."

"No need for thanks."

The young witcher nodded at the halberd soldier.

As they approached the crossroads, Lan activated his witcher senses, carefully observing every inch of the ground. Indeed, as Bernie had described, there were three female statues, several half-melted white candles, and offerings of flowers and goods left by the faithful. On this peaceful land, only a patch of dark blood marred the scene.

Lan crouched near the blood stain, peering around. "Sergeant, it seems there are five or six sets of footprints here."

"Master, that's unavoidable. Even the gods can't stop farmers from being nosy, right? Excluding the murderer and the victim, only three or four people have come through. Honestly, I feel like applauding these farmers."

"Sure, let's applaud."

Lan half-heartedly agreed, tapping his palms together in the air. His lightheartedness stemmed from confidence in completing the task.

Mentos completed the analysis of the footprints: there were a total of four, with the victim's footprints easily identifiable due to his shoes. The remaining three were intriguing; one was about 40 kilograms, while another had strides suggesting a height of around 180 centimeters. Neither matched Lan's earlier deduction.

Without a doubt, the last one was the "cannibal."

The young witcher's gaze followed the footprints, and he stood up, moving around the bloodstain to follow them.

Phillip, noticing this, waved his armored hand in excitement. "I knew he could do it! Let's follow!"

The soldiers drew their weapons, their cold and lethal presence gathering around them. They were seasoned veterans, recently returned from war, and were now serving their local lord.

As they approached Duén Hen, they were reminded of the significance of the crossroads. To the east, one could reach Lake Fyke by water. To the north, a major road led through Midcopse. To the west, a road connected to the coastal hills of western Velen. It was a regional transportation hub.

The south, however, was riddled with swamps, with no good roads to speak of. The footprints led southward. Deeper into the swamp, there were no good paths left, causing the soldiers to grow increasingly restless.

Fortunately, Lan's witcher vision never lost track of the trail; the criminal's footprints were even more pronounced in the muddy marsh.

"He's walked back and forth several times; I suspect he knows he's stirred up quite a mess, and there may be traps along the way." Lan tilted his head as he reported his findings to Phillip.

The burly officer remained unfazed.

"Just be careful when you're scouting. If you miss something, it's not a big deal; we're not slackers under the lord's command."

Lan wasn't surprised by Phillip's calm demeanor; he too felt relaxed.

A dozen men armed with swords hunting a solitary murderer was hardly a challenge.

***

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