Chapter 309: A Triumphant Return
"How's he doing?"
"He's not dead yet."
Olwen, lying on the ground, tried to play tough, but the pain from his wound made the Skellige man suck in a sharp breath.
Gerd said with a hint of regret in his voice, "If he were a witcher, a Swallow potion would see him through. But he isn't… Linn, help me. We need to get him back as soon as possible."
Linn took one look at Olwen's condition and shook his head.
"He won't survive the journey. You stay here with him. I'll ride back to Svalblod village, get some strong men, and bring the medic."
The Bear School witcher considered it for a moment. Linn's idea was indeed better than his own.
"That's all we can do, then. My thanks."
"Don't mention it."
Linn handed Gerd some more alchemical bombs and potions for defense. Even for witchers of different schools, these things were interchangeable.
"Here, take these first."
"So many?" Gerd was taken aback.
He himself couldn't afford to use so many alchemical bombs and potions, yet Linn was willing to give so many away to someone else. Before he could refuse, Linn was already mounted on his steed, Nidhogg, and galloped off into the distance.
Upon his return to Svalblod village, Linn went directly to see the Brokvar clan elder. He informed him of their successful hunt of the Melusine, and the elder was overjoyed. Finally, with the scourge of the siren gone, the village leader could breathe a sigh of relief.
But then, the lord learned that Count Torgier's man had been wounded. He quickly arranged for two guards to accompany Linn, along with a dozen villagers and the best medic the village had to offer.
When the group returned to where Gerd and Olwen were, Olwen was already burning with a fever, unconscious. Although this world resembled a feudal medieval era, the medics of the Skellige Isles were trained by druids—not the "when in doubt, bleed them" quacks of Linn's home world.
The medic had them fetch clean water to re-clean the wound, then applied poultices of herbs and gave him a bowl of herbal brew. Though Olwen remained unconscious, his forehead was no longer so hot, and his breathing had become more stable. Only then did the medic wipe the sweat from his brow.
Because Olwen was not yet out of danger, the medic advised Linn, who held the most authority there, that it was best to stay put for a while. They should only travel once Olwen's condition stabilized.
Linn had no objections. This was a matter of life and death. Besides, the first monster-slaying contract was already done, so he wasn't worried about the lord not paying them. As for the second contract, the one to clear out Count Torgier's family castle… that could wait. The monsters had been occupying the place for a long time; a little longer wouldn't make a difference.
Linn then called over Gerd and the guards sent by the Brokvar elder to inform them of Olwen's situation and his decision.
Gerd was the first to agree. Though he and Olwen hadn't known each other long, they had a mutual respect for each other's straightforward nature. And besides, Olwen was the help Count Torgier had sent for him. How could he abandon him to his fate?
The two guards from the Brokvar clan had no objections, either. After all, their mission was to assist the witchers. The Brokvar elder had specifically ordered them to obey the witchers' commands and treat them as they would their own kin. Furthermore, as hired hands, the two guards were able to empathize with Olwen. They put themselves in his shoes—if they were wounded and needed care, they wouldn't want to be seen as an expendable "cost." So, the two guards also supported Linn's decision.
Afterward, they began directing the dozen villagers to set up camp. Thankfully, the island was lacking in many things, but not trees. To increase efficiency, Linn and Gerd also pitched in. Gerd's wild, broad-swinging sword technique was perfect for felling trees—not a single one could withstand a second blow. Linn was no slouch either; he'd place his hand on a trunk and use an Aard Sign to blast it apart.
With their help, they quickly gathered all the necessary materials. As for tools, Linn's enchanted leather pouch happened to contain some. Not for any particular reason, but simply a habit of stockpiling things, like a squirrel. He hadn't expected them to come in handy now.
After cutting the trees into suitable logs, Gerd and the others began hammering them into the ground in a circle to form a wooden wall. Yes, they weren't building a house, but a palisade. A house wasn't necessary; Linn's pouch held plenty of tents they could sleep in. But a wall was essential, as they would be in the wilderness for several more days. This seemingly crude wooden fence would significantly improve their chances of defense and survival.
Several days later, the medic finally confirmed that Olwen was out of danger. Linn instructed the villagers to fashion a stretcher, and they took turns carrying Olwen back to Svalblod village. Though his life was no longer in peril, he couldn't stand on his own for a while, much less wield a weapon in battle. So, the two witchers rented the best room at the tavern for Olwen. Gerd reassured him not to worry and just focus on resting.
To celebrate the defeat of the Melusine, the Brokvar elder held a victory feast that night. But due to the Brokvar clan's limited wealth, the scale of the celebration and the variety of food were far inferior to the Drummond clan's, let alone the wealthy Quert clan. Nevertheless, Linn and Gerd showed no change in their demeanor, enjoying the festivities and blending in with everyone else.
After the banquet, the Brokvar elder wasted no time and had the payment brought out. The reward was more than what had been agreed upon with Gerd. Since Linn had joined the mission, the elder had added a little extra. However, due to their limited financial resources, it wasn't much more. But the thought was what mattered.
In addition to the extra pay, the Brokvar elder also allowed Olwen to remain in the village under their care, with all expenses covered. With no more worries, the two witchers stayed in Svalblod village for a few more days before boarding a ship, leaving Spikeroog and heading for the main island of Ard Skellig, where the castle of Aethenir awaited.
(End of Chapter)
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