Chapter 49

Chapter 49: Near Condyle

The sound of hooves striking the ground was far from pleasant. Especially when the horse was a robust warhorse, and its rider was a heavily armored Witcher weighing over 150 kilograms, exuding a menacing aura. Unlike the cheerful knightly parades described by bards, the imposing figure of Lan, clad in armor, was both tall and formidable. The dark warhorse beneath him stood at a shoulder height of 1.6 meters.

As this formidable combination thundered through the countryside of Velen, it evoked images from local horror stories—the spectral knights of the Wild Hunt!

"Sir, I must remind you once again—please stay calm," Mentos advised, abandoning his usual banter. Truth be told, he would have preferred Lan to start humming a tune or gulp down a jar of honey like a bear.

The idea of Lan charging into battle, armed to the teeth, to confront at least dozens of vicious cannibals was sheer madness. The "madness" Mentos referred to wasn't about whether Lan could win. He had some confidence in Lan's abilities, as well as his own.

After all, they were just a group of criminals. They lacked the discipline, vigilance, and skills of a professional army. Their large numbers were offset by their loose organizational structure, which was a vulnerability in itself. With a well-crafted plan and proper reconnaissance, even an inefficient assassination could dismantle their organization.

For Lan, a disorganized group meant it wasn't "dozens of swords against one." It would be dozens of "one sword against one."

Without any renowned knights or warriors among them, a Witcher was unlikely to lose to ordinary people.

What truly concerned Mentos was Lan's mental state. A meticulous plan required a calm executor. In the mental graph, he had devised, Lan's emotional curve was currently stable.

Stable, but at the maximum level!

"I am calm, Mentos," Lan's steady voice interrupted the internal monologue of the AI. He reiterated, "I am calm now."

Mentos fell silent. It had the authority to guide and remind but not to make decisions.

Moreover, when Lan advanced in his academic permissions and matured into a fully-fledged adult, Mentos's authority would further cede to the main entity. It had done what an AI should do; the rest was to follow orders.

The sea breeze carried dark clouds overhead, and the air began to smell of earth. It was going to rain in Velen again.

***

Relying on the Witcher's extraordinary endurance, Lan's continuous riding time was limited only by Popeye's recovery speed.

Originally, the journey from Oreton to the Condyle area would take two to three days by horse. But Lan and the nearly breathless Popeye covered the distance in less than a day.

The golden 48 hours for rescuing missing people felt like a noose tightening around Lan's heart with each passing second. Lan was in a hurry, but he was also desperately trying to suppress his urgency. If urgency were useful, there wouldn't be so many absurdities in the world.

"Stop, Popeye."

"Huff huff—"

Lan pulled the reins, slowing down the exhausted warhorse. He gently patted Popeye's side and fed her a carrot while his cat-like eyes scanned the surroundings.

"Coastal, hilly terrain... it's around here."

This terrain was a small hill rising from the seabed to the surface. After connecting with the mainland, it was considered hilly terrain. 

A small village with only a few households was built at the hill's peak. That village was Condyle, known for its flower cultivation due to the soil and climate, making it the village's primary economic source. Even from a distance, Lan could see the vibrant colors on the hillside.

The village's elevation difference from the horizon was about fifty meters. Fifty meters didn't sound like much. But the terrain's complexity was undeniable. Within this 50-meter range, there were gullies, valleys, ravines, and streams—endless complex terrains that could hide many secrets. 

Even thousands of people could hide in this land if they wanted to.

This place was so poor and remote, with countless small hills. The locals didn't bother naming each hill. So, Willis had said their camp was "near Condyle," a vague description. Even they didn't know the name of the ravine they were in.

"No wonder a group of roaming cannibals chose to camp here," Lan thought, his eyes narrowing as he dismounted and led Popeye forward.

The general direction was right; the rest depended on his skills. Fortunately, both Lan and Mentos had some confidence in those skills.

"Inhale—" Tilting his head back, Lan took a deep breath in the sea-scented air. The Witcher's extraordinary senses began to work, making the world appear distorted and vivid to him.

"Sea smell, earth smell, feces... from beasts, not humans, horses, or hounds. Stay calm, stay focused!"

This indiscriminate sniffing yielded a lot of chaotic and useless information. Despite his urgency, Lan managed to carefully distinguish each trace with astonishing emotional control.

Finally, "The smell of firewood?" His slightly glowing cat eyes widened.

Condyle was the only known human settlement here. The smell of their cooking wouldn't reach this far. Velen had drizzles recently but no thunderstorms, so it couldn't be lightning-induced fire.

Someone was living outdoors. That was the only explanation.

Lan led Popeye, following the scent he had detected. The excellent warhorse wouldn't be running anytime soon, and Lan needed to recover some stamina after the long ride. Witchers had high endurance and quick recovery, but Lan didn't want to face unknown opponents with less than full energy. 

The horse's hooves clattered, and the various items in Lan's saddlebag jingled. Soon, the young Witcher, looking like a passing traveler, entered a makeshift camp. It was more of a large canvas supported by several wooden poles, with some storage boxes and parcels inside. A campfire was set up in the open space in front of the canvas.

Lan's brow furrowed, then relaxed.

This wasn't a cannibal camp. They had pitched their tent in an inconspicuous place, more to avoid the wind than to hide from others. But in the current situation, even the chance to ask one more person was valuable.

Lan didn't stop; he walked straight towards the small camp.

***

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