𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐌'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐘 | ❝ Great works are performed not by strength but by perseverance. ❞
A quest to complete a bestiary leads Ruselm to force the infamous witcher Geralt, of Rivia, to accompany him during his travels after many ins...
RUSELM'S BESTIARY CHAPTER SEVEN ─ IRION'S IVORY TOWER DISCLAIMER: Much of this chapter is from Sapkowski himself, from The Last Wish, which I have edited and added my own touches to. Many Witcher fans haven't read the novels so if you like the writing in this chapter, I urge you to go give them a read! The best part about this is that you can't always tell which descriptions are mine and which are Sapkowski's.
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GERALT COULD EXPECT nothing less when cats and children noticed him first. A striped tomcat sleeping on a sun-warmed stack of wood shuddered, raised his angular head, flattened back his ears, hissed and bolted off into the nettles behind one of the houses. Three-year old Dragomir, fisherman Trigla's son, who was sitting on the hut's threshold doing his best to make dirtier an already dirty shirt, started to shout warnings as he fixed his baleful eyes on the passing rider. It was always like this when he arrived in a new town, he was unsurprised that Blaviken was no different.
The mousy grey donkey was laden with the heaviness of the kikimora he'd slain on the dyke not four miles from Blaviken. It trotted behind Roach, pulling at the lead wrapped around the witcher's pommel as it tried to keep up with the mare's fast pace. Geralt himself was in no hurry, but Roach was feeling rather energetic since she wasn't the one forced to carry the body of the monster from the swamp.
Outside of the alderman's house, where Geralt meant to take the kikimora, were several gathered people and their carts. A small crowd had begun following behind the witcher at some point during his path through Blaviken, and they formed a semicircle around Roach and the long-eared donkey as he hopped off, readjusted the swords on his back, and grabbed hold of Roach's reins to tie them on a post outside of the home. The rather adventurous villagers tried to poke at the large saddlecloth that was wrapped around the dead monster on the donkey's back but one bay from the ass had them retracting their hands just as quickly.
Caldemeyn had just finished dealing with a small, podgy and red with rage villager that stood holding a struggling goose by the neck in front of his house, sending the boy off with a scowl.
"What—By all the gods! Is that you, Geralt?" Caldemeyn, with eyes wide, couldn't help the little smile that wormed its way onto his face. "Do my eyes deceive me?"
"Nay," Geralt slightly bowed his head. "Greetings, Caldemeyn."
"Greetings, Geralt!" The alderman squeezed the witcher's hand as he approached, slapped him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. "You haven't been here for a good two years, witcher. You can never stay in one place for long, can you? Where are you coming from?" The alderman didn't even wait for an answer as he continued his monologue. "Ah, dog's arse, what's the difference where?"
Geralt found himself dragged inside as Caldemeyn shouted over his shoulder at the villagers gathered outside of his home.
"Hey, somebody bring us some beer! Sit down, Geralt, sit down. It's mayhem here because we've the market tomorrow. Everyone's getting all excited and anxious. How are things with you, tell me!"
