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Two days later, in the morning, Geralt prepares for the day ahead. He expects to get close to the caravan but doesn't intend to exchange pleasantries. Too many people for his liking, he enjoys the peace and quiet. The lady's company entered the forest before Geralt, probably half a day of travel ahead of him. He nears slower than he expected as they travelled through the first night and don't rest much. In forests, this isn't advisable anyway. So, they are right to travel fast.
As he prepares to encounter some guards who will scout around the caravan, he is surprised to meet no one, not a single soul. They seemed like the careful types to him but apparently, they aren't.
"What should we say to that?" he asks his horse which just neighs quietly. As they continue their journey, he halts, listening. The forest has fallen quiet, too quiet. Something isn't right; his senses scream at him to be ready.
"What on earth-" he is cut off by a sudden tumult. Screams fill the air, the clanging of metal on metal and horses' cries. Geralt rushes Roach forward. The elderly woman was right, the woods are dangerous. A horse gallops past him, a dead guard slouched in the saddle, an arrow pierced right through his throat. It is unusual for thieves to strike by daylight, even in a forest. However, these don't seem to be simple thieves.
Finally, the Witcher arrives at a downright battlefield. The carriage has fallen to its side, a spear thrown through the left front wheel. The guards fight off the attackers bravely, a few maids and servants run around like chickens, screaming bloody murder. He must force back a slight smirk at that thought. The packs and luggage are scattered all over the path. Many horses, their riders as well as servants lay dead already. The lady has seven maids with her. Geralt passes three of them, dead. The lady! Geralt jolts at the thought and looks around to find a sign of her. He only spots one of her knights. He fights on foot against two attackers at once. Mercilessly, they slay the members of the Lady Lorelay's company, one by one. The knight falls soon, defeated by a cowardly blow that sends him on his knees.
The Witcher dismounts his horse, leaving it between the trees. He watches and doesn't run into battle, just like it is his way. He kills monsters and doesn't interfere in other's businesses. It would maybe be different if the lady was somewhere in sight and in distress. The attackers are clad in full amor, capes leave their faces in the dark. They are skilled warriors, their movements with sword and crossbow are precise, striking their targets successfully most of the time. Again, a sign that they are no simple thieves.
Geralt arrived as the battle nears its end, leaving everyone dead or fleeing into the woods. He watches one of the attackers, probably their leader, barking orders at the others to kill them and find her. Finally, this leader and two of his men are the only ones left standing on the field of battle. They walk over the dead, stopping at the still breathing knight from before. He is wounded heavily, laying on his back now.
"Where is she?" one asks but the knight just spits blood and says no word. At a short nod of the leader, one of the dark hooded men kneels next to the knight, putting a dagger to his throat. This is where Geralt steps up.
"Three against one doesn't seem like an honourable fight," he says grimly,
"Especially if the opponent's already down." The attackers lift their heads, the leader's eyes bore into the Witcher.
"Look who it is," he laughs and thrusts the peak of his sword in the soil next to the knight to lean on the handle. Geralt walks on forward. One of the attackers is still threatening the knight, tickling him with his dagger.
"Leave him be," our reluctant hero demands.
"What, did someone send the White Wolf to bring him the pretty lady?" the leader asks, straightening and lifting his bloody blade in Geralt's direction. He doesn't answer, staring them down with his golden eyes.
"Dramatic," the leader shrugs, sheathing his sword without bothering to clean it first,
"He won't tell us anything. We've more important things to do," he nods at his two companions, and they fetch their horses. Geralt watches as they mount them.
"Ah yes, before I forget," the leader turns to the Witcher,
"Advice from a friend to a friend-" he is cut off.
"I have no friends," Geralt says automatically. The man tugs at the reigns to turn his horse,
"Hm, anyway: Do not get in my way." With that they take off. Geralt tilts his head to the side, smirking as he watches the attackers disappear in the shadows of the forest. Then, he kneels at the knight's side.
"You have to...find her,Witcher," the knight utters, grabbing Geralt's hand,
"She can't fall in their hands..." Geralt stares down at the dying man, slightly irritated. Why should he? It simply isn't his way to meddle in this kind of affairs. The desperation in the knight's eyes softens his heart a little.
"Where did she go?" the Witcher asks.
"Sent her running in...there," the knight points in a certain direction. Geralt lifts his head to check for any movement between the trees.
"Please, keep...her...safe," the knight is barely breathing anymore.
"You...only hope," and with that he is gone. Geralt sighs and closes the man's eyes. Then, he stands up and turns back to Roach. He doesn't intend to search for survivors, not even the lady. But before he even sits in the saddle, Roach trots in the direction the knight pointed out, although the rider wants to get on his way. Destiny?
