The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Chapter 102 Margarita and Sheer

Inside the torture chamber, several witch hunters were gathered around a brazier, discussing what other methods they could use on the sorceresses.

"Tsk tsk, these wicked and filthy witches have finally met their match. What are you crying about over there? You'll have plenty of time to cry at the stake!" A bald man with a face full of scars spat into the brazier.

"These sorceresses are really pretty. Should we..." The tall, thin hunter next to him rubbed his hands together, glancing at the cell next door. In that cell was a sorceress with short chestnut hair, her face still bearing bruises, but her exquisite features were still undeniable.

"Are you fucking crazy?" the bald man cursed in a low voice.

"These witches are filled with evil, chaotic magic. If the warden finds out, you'll be treated the same way they are! You've forgotten what happened to Pete—he was hung in the courtyard and burned for a whole day and night. Do you want to be the second one?"

Before the tall, thin hunter who had been scolded could retort, several crossbow bolts shot in with a sharp whooshing sound, piercing his temple.

Before the bald man could react, another crossbow bolt pierced his throat. His eyes widened, a gurgling sound came from his throat, and he fell straight down.

"Enemy attack!" The last witch hunter suddenly turned her head to look in the direction from which the crossbow bolts were fired, and then froze on the spot.

Dozens of heavily armored regular troops were watching him indifferently. These men were covered from head to toe in thick lamellar armor, with almost no gaps between their bodies.

Iron-gray chainmail was visible at the joints of the armor, the face was protected by an iron helmet, and the iron-rimmed faceplate covered all the way to the chest, revealing only pairs of emotionless eyes.

They stood silently in the corridor, like a row of cast iron reliefs. The witch hunter swallowed hard, trying to pull out her sword, but it seemed she had lost all her strength and couldn't pull it out no matter what she did.

"You...you are..." Before she could finish her question, the heavy tip of the Calad's Staff struck her head. With a crisp cracking sound, the witch hunter collapsed to the ground, never to move again.

The soldiers began opening the cages one by one, the sound of iron locks snapping ringing out. The sorcerers, who had been weeping moments before, fell silent. Some grabbed a soldier's hand, repeatedly murmuring, "Am I dreaming? Someone really came to save us? Is this real?"

Someone crouched in the corner, refusing to come out, watching the armored figures warily; she was trembling all over.

The sorceress, bound to the execution rack, raised her head. Her body was covered in welts from whips and branding irons. Her tears seemed to have dried up, and her lips trembled. "Don't hurt me, I didn't use magic to harm anyone..."

Ron stepped forward, raised his hand to signal the soldiers to put down their weapons. "Don't be afraid, they're here to rescue you. Take her off, and be careful."

He turned to Henry behind him and said, "Give her a bottle of Lazarus."

The chains were removed, and the sorceress collapsed to the ground. Henry fed her the potion, and the pale green liquid flowed down her throat. Color quickly returned to the sorceress's pale face, and the bleeding from her wounds noticeably slowed. She slowly stood up, staring incredulously at her hands, then at Ron. "What...what kind of potion is this? It doesn't look like any magical potion I know."

"This isn't the time to discuss this," Ron said, glancing around. "Where's your headmistress, Margarita?"

The sorceress's eyes reddened as she pointed deeper into the corridor. "This way. The headmaster is imprisoned inside. Radovid wants her to watch all her students die before her eyes..."

Ron nodded, then turned and ordered, "Henry, take the soldiers and search the prison. Treat the seriously wounded with medicine, at least make sure they can move."

Behind the last iron gate at the end of the corridor, a blonde woman was leaning against the wall, her long hair draped over her shoulders, the ends of which showed signs of burning.

Beside her lay a brown-haired sorceress, her eyes closed, her breathing faint, her injuries far more severe than those of the students outside.

Hearing footsteps, Margarita looked up, her gaze sweeping over the ranks of soldiers behind Ron. She recognized them quickly: standard armor, but not any familiar unit; the golden lion emblem was one she had never seen before.

Margarita looked at Ron warily. "Who are you? Why did you save us?"

"A friend of Triss, and a protector of Kayla Metz," Ron replied calmly. "You should understand now."

Margarita's expression relaxed slightly when she heard the names Keira and Triss. "Keira, is she alright?"

Where is Triss?

"Kayla is fine. My manor is protected by the army, so she's safe. Triss has already taken the mages of Novigrad to Kovir. I only learned you were captured after I saw them off."

Ron's gaze shifted to the unconscious brown-haired sorceress. "Who is this? I didn't mention her in my intelligence reports. She seems to be seriously injured."

"Sylvain de Tansavier," Margarita's voice was a little hoarse.

Ron raised an eyebrow slightly. "It's her? One of the most powerful and respected sorcerers in the North. How could she have come to this? Wasn't Radovid planning to save you for last?"

Margarita sighed, a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes. "Shee's personality is too strong. She didn't say a word during the interrogation, she just stared at the witch hunters. They didn't like that look in her eyes."

Margarita looked up. "If Radovid hadn't planned to save us for last, she would have died long ago. But she desperately needs treatment now, or she won't last much longer. The cell key is with the warden; you need to get it to..."

Before Margarita could finish speaking, Ron's hand had already gripped the thick iron fence, and with a sickening metallic creak, the iron bar was ripped off.

The iron gate was ripped off completely, and the severely deformed gate was casually thrown on the ground with a heavy thud, raising a cloud of dust.

Margarita's eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, and she stared blankly at Ron. "Am I seeing things? Could it be that you're not human, but a dragon that uses magic to transform into human form?"

Ron's lips twitched. "No, I'm a pure-blooded human, but this isn't the time to discuss that, Henry. How many sorcerers are still alive?"

"My lord, including these two, there are eight people in total." Henry's voice came from the direction of the corridor. He was holding a young sorcerer in his arms, and the girl's legs were already too weak to support her weight.

Margarita lowered her head in anguish, covering her face with her hands, her voice trembling, "I brought more than a dozen students, and only these few are left alive..."

'

Ron didn't offer any useless words of comfort; he simply took out two bottles of Lazarus potion and handed one to Margarita and the other to Shir on the ground.

Margarita took it and drank it down herself. Sheer's hands could barely hold the neck of the bottle, so Ron had to support the back of her neck to pour the liquid into her mouth.

After the medication took effect, her breathing became more stable, but she was still unable to stand due to the deep wounds and excessive blood loss.

Without hesitation, Ron bent down and picked up Sheepy. The sorceress in his arms seemed to vaguely sense the movement, but she didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. She just instinctively buried her head deeper into Ron's chest.

"Evacuate the prison," Ron ordered.

The regular army formed a defensive formation, protecting the weakened sorceresses in the center, and retreated up the stairs.

As Ron carried Shee through the corridor, the girl whose throat had been choked was able to speak again. She tried several times, finally managing to squeeze out an almost inaudible word: "Thank you..."

'

A sorceress walked behind Ron, her left arm hanging limply at her side. She gasped in pain with every step she took, her eyes fixed on the silent, heavily armored soldiers ahead.

"My lord," the young warlock finally couldn't help but ask, "Where...where are we going?"

Ron didn't turn around, his voice calm and steady, "My territory, my army protects you there. Radovid can't touch you. Don't fall behind."

Upon hearing the name Radovid, the other sorceress suddenly broke down. She stopped, covered her face, and wept bitterly. "My sister... she was taken to the interrogation room yesterday and never came back. Are we going to leave her here?"

Margarita stopped and, with her last bit of strength, hugged the distraught student, gently patting her back. "Lina, be strong. All we can do now is survive. Only by surviving can we make Radovid pay the price."

In the courtyard, the Standing Army had already cleared the area. Ron carried Sheeil toward the path leading to the riverbank. Erwin had already arranged for the Seagull to dock at the shallows behind the prison. The group waded through the muddy riverbank and boarded the deck one by one.

The Seagull slowly pulled away from the shore, its sails billowing in the wind, heading downstream. Calard Manor was waiting for it on its course.

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