The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

A few days later, Erwin reported to Ron in the courtyard of the manor about the intelligence from the trade channels.

"A witcher with white hair, carrying two swords and wearing the Wolf School witcher badge is coming from the direction of Heatherton. He is inquiring about a man named Hentrik."

There wasn't anyone around. Erwin tightened the clipboard and continued.

"Based on multiple intelligence checks, Hentrik is most likely a Nilfgaardian spy. The Witcher's visit to Hentrik is probably because he is looking for something in Velen."

Ron swept several maps across the low table, his gaze sweeping over the directional markers for Heatherton. The village, along with Raven's Nest and the manor, formed a triangle on the scouting map.

Ron was silent for a moment, then touched the ring engraved with a lion emblem.

"Continue to observe, and report back if there are any developments."

Hentrik is alive, which is one of the chain reactions triggered by Ron killing the petrified lizard. Ciri did not use magic, and the Wild Hunt did not track down Heatherton.

When Geralt left Heatherton, he was clutching a well-worn notebook.

On the last page of the notebook was a line of hastily written, scribbled words: "There are rumors of witches in Middlecops, and she may know more."

Geralt spent the entire morning wandering the paths of Midcops village, asking every villager who was willing to stop and ask questions.

An old woman said the blonde witch had moved away and no one knew where she went. A man chopping wood at the village entrance said the witch hadn't returned to her hut for weeks.

Geralt led his horse out of the village, his boots leaving heavy footprints in the mud. He didn't know if the witch had run away or been killed.

All that is known is that this lead has been cut off, and now only another name recorded in the notebook remains: Raven's Den, the Bloody Baron.

There was a smaller line of text below, which was added later: Sergeant Major Crow's Nest, according to reliable intelligence

He once successfully hunted down a petrified chicken snake with only two archers, and he also single-handedly killed a werewolf while searching for his missing subordinates. The Baron trusted him immensely.

Geralt closed the notebook. A man who could warrant a warning from Nilfgaardian spies in his notebook, a mercenary leader who dared to hunt petrified chickens with only two men, and who single-handedly slew a werewolf giant.

He pieced together a mental image of this person he had never met: a desperate outlaw who had carved a bloody path through the chaos of war with brute force, the baron's sharpest blade.

He had encountered the Baron's men at the inn at the crossroads; those soldiers were drunk and started cursing before they had even swallowed their liquor.

When Geralt came out of the inn, there were several mangled corpses lying on the ground and broken wine glasses scattered on the table.

Geralt arrived at Crow's Nest in the afternoon, when the sunlight shone down from above, making the wooden bridge at the village entrance appear white.

He stopped at the bridge. On the other side, soldiers in purple robes marched past in formation. They were not the crooked, bandit-like figures he had seen before.

The ranks were neat and orderly, their steps synchronized, and the chainmail buckles gleamed with a matte iron sheen in the sunlight, without a trace of rust.

A soldier squatted by the roadside and spoke a few words to the vegetable vendor. The vendor pulled out a few radishes from under his stall and stuffed them into the soldier's hand. The soldier then took out copper coins and placed them on the stall, his movements so practiced that it seemed like he did this every day.

Geralt didn't move; he stood at the bridgehead, watching the soldier return to his ranks.

Several children followed behind the patrol team, imitating the soldiers' walking posture, trying their best to keep their steps in sync with their short legs. The chubby boy in the lead was pushed by the ones behind him and giggled.

When Geralt identifies an army's organization, he usually uses the most visual things: formations and armor. Formations are the external manifestation of military discipline, while armor is a reflection of logistical strength.

An army whose armor is spotless and whose marching is perfectly synchronized is definitely not one that can be sustained by plundering.

The spy's intelligence was correct; the sergeant was no ordinary person. However, the meaning of the word "danger" here may need to be re-evaluated.

Geralt didn't rush to conclusions, but simply kept these observations to himself. When he reached the castle gate atop Raven's Nest, the guards recognized him.

The guard with an old scar on his face was leaning against the wall yawning, but when he saw Geralt's white hair and cat-like eyes, his yawn froze halfway, his mouth slowly closed, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword at his waist.

"It's you?" The guard took a step forward, his jaw clenched. "I saw you at the inn. You're the one who killed several of our brothers. How dare you come here?"

"I've come to see the Baron," Geralt said.

"The Baron will not see any Witchers, especially those who have killed his men." The guard's fingers gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, and the atmosphere in front of the castle gate suddenly tightened.

Footsteps came from behind the gate, heavy and firm with each step. The iron boots landed on the stone floor, making a dull thud that bounced once in the doorway.

Ron walked out of the castle, the sunlight shining behind him mostly blocked, casting a large shadow. He stopped, his gaze sweeping over the guards' faces and then over the white-haired witcher at the door.

"What are you doing blocking the city gate in broad daylight?" The voice was calm, but the guard immediately released his hand from the hilt of his sword. It wasn't out of fear, but a conditioned reflex, obedience ingrained in his memory after being disciplined for a long time.

Geralt looked up, and the two-and-a-half-meter-tall giant's figure emerged from the backlight of the city gate.

The armor plates on his body had a matte finish, and a greatsword almost as tall as a normal person hung on his back. The hilt was straight and undecorated, exuding an irresistible, primal violence.

The guard swallowed hard. "Sergeant, this witcher, the one who killed our brother at the inn, said he wanted to see the Baron, and I stopped him..."

Ron didn't respond to that, but simply tilted his head slightly, a small gesture, but the meaning was clear: follow along.

Geralt followed the sergeant, whose allegiance was still unknown, into the courtyard of Crow's Den. The open space was fully illuminated by the midday sun, and several bundles of hay were piled in the corner of the stone wall. The sound of horses snorting came from the stable.

Several soldiers who were cleaning their weapons in the courtyard looked up at them, then lowered their heads and continued working.

In Raven's Den Gardens, the Baron was being cornered by a Nilfgaardian officer. The officer's collar was buttoned up perfectly, his armor was polished to a gleaming shine, and he held a parchment document in his hand, speaking in a businesslike tone.

"A reconnaissance squad of the Third Army Group of Army Group Center went missing in Velen. The last records indicate that they were active in the southeast direction."

As Lord of Velen, you are obligated to cooperate with the investigation. We need to know if there has been any unusual armed activity in your territory recently.

He speaks Mandarin in a very formal and precise manner, as if he were reciting a prepared written report.

The baron slumped in his chair, looking at the officer with a puzzled blink.

"Unusual armed activity? The most unusual armed activity in Velen is your Nilfgaardian soldiers running around everywhere. Tell me, what were your soldiers doing in the southeast? Picking mushrooms?"

The officer's face twitched slightly: "Baron, please don't change the subject."

"I didn't change the subject. You asked me if there was any unusual armed activity. I think you guys are the ones who are unusual. Since you came, even the chickens in Velen have gotten thinner. Maybe you scared away all the bugs."