The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

The road to Beefburg stretches northward in the sunlight.

Ron kept his horse slow, with a regular army led by Miko behind him. The formation was loose, but the horses' hooves were steady.

They had just come from the direction of the quarry, escorting the stones back to the manor, and were traveling with Ron along the way.

Geralt rode beside him, carrying a pass and a letter in his arms. They didn't say much along the way. After walking side by side for a while, Ron spoke up.

"Tamara, are you sure she's in the beef burger?"

Geralt didn't answer immediately. He tightened his grip on the reins slightly, then loosened it. "Well, I've found some clues, but not necessarily the kind you're looking for."

In short, when I got back, the Baron was drunk; he'd even set fire to the castle stables. Um... it took me a while to sober him up, and he told me some things he'd been hiding from me.

He hesitated for a moment before continuing, "The Baron buried a dead infant without a funeral or a grave. He buried it in the wasteland of Crow's Nest. The Baron named the infant and reburied it."

Back at the castle, I performed a ritual for it, transforming it into a household spirit. Later, I summoned it at midnight, and followed it to Anna's bracelet and Tamara's whereabouts.

Ron didn't press for details. He sensed Geralt was deliberately avoiding the topic and knew the Witcher was intentionally keeping quiet. He simply picked up on Geralt's last sentence, "So you came to find her."

"Give this to her as well," Geralt said, taking a faded rag doll from his pocket. It was made of old linen, with two small braids of wool hair. It had only one button eye; the other eye was missing, leaving a loose thread.

"The Baron made it himself, it's called Clara." He turned the doll over to look at it, then put it back in his arms.

Ron nodded, and the group continued forward. Just as the roadside reeds receded to the edge of their sight, Miko raised his left hand, and everyone stopped at the same time.

Not far ahead, black smoke was billowing from a low wooden hut, flames just beginning to lick from its thatched roof, and seven or eight desperate men were gathered outside the door.

The weapons in his hands were a mess: a muddy axe, a rusty longsword, and all sorts of other things. A one-eyed man was pouring something onto the door panel, and the smell was pungent.

Geralt dismounted and moved forward, while Ron did not dismount, but his horse's hooves pounded in place a few times, the armor plates making a fine metallic scraping sound.

The one-eyed one turned his head first. He saw Geralt, with his white hair, cat eyes, and two swords.

Then he looked behind Geralt, at the warhorse that was taller than a normal person's head, and the massive, powerful knight on its back, his armor gleaming with cold steel.

The greatsword, its tip almost touching the ground, stood on the side of the horse. Behind them, a group of soldiers in standard breastplates, armed with spears and crossbows, watched them with indifferent eyes.

The grease can slipped from the one-eyed man's hand and smashed on the ground, splattering grease onto his bare feet. His companion stumbled back two steps, tripping over his own heels, before scrambling to his feet and rushing into the bushes.

The seven or eight people dispersed completely in a few breaths, some even throwing away their broken axes.

Miko was about to lead his men in pursuit when Ron stopped him, saying, "Save them first."

Several soldiers kicked open the wooden door, which was half burned, and thick smoke poured out. A female elf with short, ear-length hair was carried out of the house by two soldiers. She was bent over and coughed violently for a while, her eyes red from the smoke.

Her first action upon looking up wasn't to cry or curse, but to glance at the open space outside the door. She saw the backs of the bandits running wildly into the woods, then looked away and asked in a still trembling voice, "Those bastards, they won't be coming back, will they?"

"No," Ron said.

"Are you the leader of these soldiers?"

"Yes"

She nodded, took a few deep breaths, and then began to speak. She was a winemaker, and the wild berries and raspberries in this grove were excellent for winemaking. She ran the workshop here all by herself.

The bandits targeted her, trying to force her to reveal her hidden savings. When that failed, they decided to burn down the house and the person inside, hoping to force her to submit.

Ron glanced at the still-smoking abandoned house. Several cracked barrels lay overturned in the corner, spilling wine all over the floor, and the air was filled with the strong smell of fermented liquor.

"My estate has a winery, and we're in dire need of an expert like you. I'll provide accommodation, salary, security, and military patrols. If your skills are exceptional, you can receive a share of the winery's profits."

The elf looked at him, quickly assessing the situation. He was a warlord who looked formidable, with well-equipped soldiers who had just scared away bandits. His estate had workshops and patrol guards.

This calculation would be quick in the mind of any exile in Velen. "Fine, I have nowhere else to go anyway," she said.

Ron nodded to Miko: "Take her with you back to the manor and leave her to Erwin's care." Miko responded and led the group forward, with a short-haired elf joining the ranks.

Ron and Geralt did not stop, but turned their horses around and continued on their way towards Cowburg.

In the afternoon, the stone bridge at the end of the road appears at the top of the road, with the Pontal River flowing slowly beneath it. On the opposite bank, the wooden roofs are so densely packed that they look like mushrooms growing out of the ground, and narrow streets crisscross between the houses.

Ron spurred his horse toward the city wall. At the bridge checkpoint, the guard glanced at Geralt's pass. The neat document and seal were stacked together. The guard didn't ask any questions and waved him through.

Passing by the city hall with its various coats of arms and flags, I saw crudely printed notices pasted on the street walls, with conscription orders signed by Radovid V.

Tamara's residence is a two-story stone apartment building located in the inner block of Cowburg. Downstairs is a bakery with a roaring fire in the oven, and the aroma of toasting bread wafts out from the wooden door.

As Ron and Geralt knocked, they heard hurried footsteps inside. The door opened, and Tamara stood in the doorway, wearing a brown half-body leather armor, the iron buckle on her neck still in her hand, unfastened.

Her brown hair was shorter than it had been in Crow's Den, her face had lost its former childishness, and her eyes were sharper than ever. When she saw Ron, the metal buckle in her hand froze in mid-air.

"It's you?" Her voice was deeper and hoarser than it had been at the crow's nest, as if she hadn't spoken softly to anyone in a long time. "Did my father send you?"

"No, he's already asked the Witcher to look for you. I just want to know if you're safe now," Ron said calmly.

Tamara looked at him, her lips pressed into a thin line, then relaxed. "I'm not a child. I don't need anyone to save me."

Geralt took a faded rag doll from his pocket and handed it to the person. "Your father asked me to bring this to you," Geralt said.

Tamara's hand paused in mid-air before she took the doll. "That man, as far back as I can remember, has only ever known alcoholism and beatings of my mother. He doesn't know how to be a father at all. This doll... won't change anything."

"What's past is past. He doesn't ask for your forgiveness, he just wants you to be safe," Geralt nodded gently.

Tamara looked down at the doll that only had one eye left, then placed it on the corner of the table.

"Safety? Our home is gone, my mother's fate is unknown, all because of him. You're telling me this is safety?"

Her voice was very low, as if she had been holding those words in her throat for a long time.

"Go back and tell him... I don't need his protection. I've joined the witch hunters, and they'll help me find my mother. I'll never go back to Raven's Den again."

Ron didn't argue. He turned to Geralt and said, "You can ask for the information you need now."

Geralt took half a step forward and calmly inquired about the specific details of Anna's disappearance. Tamara leaned against the door frame and answered each question in a clear and concise tone, without any evasion, recounting all the clues related to her mother.