Chapter 563: Dwarven Caravan

"Sorceress, witchers, and children, welcome."

The caravan's size expanded a few times over, and one of the leaders, Yarpen, was seated in the center. "From left to right: Yannick Brass, Xavier, Moran, Paulie Dahlberg, his brother Reagan Dahlberg, and finally, Barney. He stutters a little. That witcher over there seems to know him."

The dwarves were short and stocky, with beards thick as bushes. They were covered in thick cotton shirts, and all looked like they were made from the same mold. They had crossbows on their backs and were equipped with black battleaxes or warhammers. Anyone could confuse them with one another if they didn't look closely.

As per usual, Roy cast Observe on them. They had far better stats than regular humans, especially in terms of combat attributes like Strength and Constitution. Their stats were only slightly lagging behind the new witchers, but they had vastly superior skills with weapons and more combat experience.

There were about thirty human soldiers in the group, though they were seated on the other side of the bonfire, refusing to come close.

Roy nodded, a smile curling his lips. "About four years ago, Reagan, Barney, and I fought a leshen in Mahakam and came out triumphant. We drank and bathed together. Reagan even taught me how to use a crossbow better."

Roy took a small, grey notebook from his pocket. The cover read ‘A gift to Roy. From Reagan Dahlberg.’

Reagan took the notebook and caressed it. He was happy to see the notebook he came up with taken care of well. "Ya changed a lot, Roy. I was about your chin's height back then, but now I can barely reach your waist. Barney and I have wonderin' why you and Letho left without saying goodbye."

Letho and Roy exchanged a look. "We're not used to big, merry occasions." They had no idea about Brovar's trap, so they kept it a secret. "Went into Smiack and left."

"I see." Barney sounded lamenting. "The elder c-credited us f-for the leshen's d-death. Me, Reagan, Drew, a-and Dave. W-Women love us. C-Crazy for us. Think w-we're heroes."

Reagan proudly explained, "We ain't gonna raise a family and settle down at this age, so we left the mountain and met up with Paulie."

Paulie looked just like Reagan, except he had a bushier beard and skin black as tar. "Worked for Yarpen since then. Been a good life. If yer find yourself outta a job, ya can come for us. We have enough booze to go around." Reagan smacked Roy's shoulder.

Coral chuckled, drying her wet hands over the open fire. The children were staring at the dwarves curiously. This was their first contact with an ancient race.

Grimm caressed his greatsword, eyeing new sparring partners.

"B-Been a while, R-Roy. W-We're gonna d-drink till w-we drop!" Barney rubbed his hands, his cheeks red.

"Ain't got that much booze, mate." Paulie humphed. "It's for the vanguard."

Barney turned to the side angrily, facing Paulie with his rear.

"Hm, there's six of you here." Geralt scanned the dwarves, musing. "And there were six during the hunt for the dragon. The team's here."

"Not the whole team. Barney replaced Lucas." Yarpen took a swig of the spirit and gave Barney the bottle. Barney held it happily, his annoyance gone. "Lucas got hitched and returned to Mahakam. Barney's not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he works hard."

"Dragon hunting?" Their curiosity piqued, the apprentice witchers stared at Geralt expectantly. Even the girls were curious. Dragons were legendary creatures, after all.

Yarpen smacked his pot belly, guffawing. He winked at Carl before he regaled, "We failed the hunt, Geralt, but ain't humiliatin' losin' to a golden dragon. Don't have to keep it a secret. It goes like this. Many years ago, we were in Caingorn, huntin' for a green dragon. Female. We had with us the Crinfrid Reavers, Yennfer of Vengerberg, Dorregaray the sorcerer, and Dandelion the bard. The shoemaker's trap of a dead sheep stuffed with poison plants worked. The dragon couldn't even lift a claw to fight. But just when we were about to capture her, one of Geralt's companions attacked. He turned. Grew into the size of a small mountain. Turned into a creature with scales hard as steel. Fangs and claws sharp as the strongest weapons. Aye, 'twas a golden dragon. Crushed our team easily and took its wife and child away."

The hunt happened more than a decade ago, yet the dwarves still shuddered every time it was mentioned. Still, they might have failed the hunt and escaped with their tails between their legs, but they befriended Geralt.

Aiden muttered, "A dragon turning into a human? I remember an old folk song that talks about this. Golden dragons can turn into..."

"Anything." Geralt nodded. "Humans included. Villentretenmerth, or Borch Three Jackdaws, taught us a painful lesson."

"But the bastards are trying to rile up hatred between humans and nonhumans. They kill indiscriminately, even those who've never treated them badly." Yarpen shook his head and took a swig of his spirit. He loudly declared, "Their violence is going to tear down all the goodwill we've built. I will not allow that to happen. Never again will humans and nonhumans become enemies. That's why we took a stand. To prove that there are still peaceful nonhumans around."

Vilfrid had a look of approval on his face, and he nodded.

Roy sighed silently. With the Scoia'tael going around killing humans, the Northern Realms will only become more and more hostile toward nonhumans.

Silence fell upon the crowd. The only sounds left were the crackling of the flames, the belches and farts of the dwarves, and the breeze.

"Right, that's all from me. So where are you going this time, witchers?" Yarpen asked. "The Northern Realms are shaken by your actions over the last couple of years. The Squirrels hate your guts, but humans have changed their opinion about you guys. Heard some stories too. Fifteen witchers, swinging their blades. Gleaming crescent moons of death, charging across the battlefield. Said you spat fire like dragons too."

The dwarves looked at the witcher team and found more than twenty witchers among them. "Almost twice the number of you guys now. Not even elves or dwarves reproduce that quickly."

Vesemir coughed. "Bit of an exaggeration, Yarpen. Nonhumans outnumber us at least a thousand to one. The expansion of our ranks will change nothing."

"But yer excellent fighters," praised Reagan. "Where are ya really going, though? There's a big buncha ya."

"We're going south. To Ellander, where these brats can sharpen their skills and meet more people along the way." Roy tossed a piece of charcoal into the bonfire. "It's a ten-day journey to Lixela, and our paths won't fork until then. Wanna travel together? Scoia'tael's on the prowl, and it's going to be a dangerous journey. We should have each other's backs."

If Roy's memories served him right, Yarpen's team would run into terrible danger on this journey. A few dwarves would die. One was Geralt's old friend, and a few others would be Barney and Reagan. Roy couldn't sit this one out. He liked these rugged, miserly, alcoholic, but loyal dwarves.

Roy had a warm, reliable air about him. And he seemed to be trustable. Yarpen was about to nod, but then he looked at Vilfrid. "Sorry, but I can't make the shot here. If we can't get to our destination on time, the bailiff's gonna be in trouble."

"See these kids? We've trained them. Nothing happened during our trip. I promise they can keep up with any adults. They won't slow you down." Serrit took over. He could guess what Roy wanted to do. He whispered, "And everyone knows we and the Squirrels are nemeses. We won't backstab you."

Geralt scanned the dwarves slowly. "And if you have time, you can teach the kids a bit about adventuring."

Vicki, Renee, Oreo, Conrad, and the kids held their hands together, staring at the dwarves with anticipation. The dwarves, ever loving to teach, got a little tipsy, and they held their heads high, a smile curling their lips.

Yarpen stroked his beard and took a deep breath, then he exchanged a look with his companions. "By Mahakam, we can never leave women and children to the machinations of fate, can we? I'll talk to the bailiff. And it's late. You should get some rest. And dontcha glare at me, Barney. Ya can't chat with Roy now. Get some sleep. Any chattin' can wait until mornin'."

Roy looked at the night sky, where the constellation of Draco hung brightly. The galaxy flowed across the skies like a silver, glimmering ribbon.

***

The night was getting darker. The carriages and oxcarts stood in a circle around the bonfire, a piece of cloth splitting the space in two. The sorceress and the girls took up tents on the left side, while the boys took up the space on the right.

The witchers spread a circle of beast-repelling feces around the campsite and slept outside the carriages, on the trees, hay, branches, and even boulders. The monster hunters only had microsleep, glancing at the caravan in the center.

Geralt was lying on a branch, his cloak blanketing him. His head pillowed on his hands. "Why'd you insist on traveling with them?"

Roy stared at the stars in the skies and glanced at Barney, who was patrolling the perimeter with a human soldier. He asked, "Would you help your friend if you knew they were about to run into danger?"

Geralt tensed up. "So you're saying..."

"That this journey is more treacherous than you thought. Be careful. And get some sleep." Roy sat with his legs crossed and entered the realm of mediation. Once again, he tried to cast the spell he gleaned from the ifrit Vilgefortz summoned.

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