Of Blades and Blood | Witcher

ii. Moonlight

The laborious process of recovering Dettlaff from darkness was not unlike Regis' regeneration. What Vilgefortz had done to him was alarmingly similar to what Syanna had done to his dear friend's emotions. Dettlaff might as well have been just a wet smear himself.

Yet Regis was overjoyed to find him and additionally happy to be able to aid him. He still owed Dettlaff an enormous debt, and helping him live again like Regis did would pay off much of it. After all, it was already taking a painstakingly long time. Though Dettlaff was as patient as ever when Regis was being built from nothing. Being just as patient was the least Regis could hope to do.

Over the course of another long year, Regis coaxed Dettlaff away from the cavern he'd remained concealed in for decades. He brought him closer to villages every day simply to get him accustomed to people again. Regis was all the more thankful that he could sense what Dettlaff was feeling - his stony face revealed naught otherwise.

It was slow improvement, indeed, but improvement nonetheless. So much so that after it had been about a year since their reuniting, Regis decided they ought to leave the cavern, and the mountains, completely. Dettlaff was hesitant, but ultimately agreed. That alone was a great stride - him accepting help.

Not long after their departure - a few days into the quiet journey - they came across yet another village. This one was mostly destroyed and had been raided only recently. It was when the vampires came upon it that Regis also realized the sickly sweet scent he caught over a mile back came from here - it was blood.

Upon listening closer, Regis also realized the remaining villagers had taken to a house further back, panting and coughing in the midst of sickness. It was the structure most intact compared to its neighbors, which was hardly saying much considering half the village had turned to ash.

"You want to help," Dettlaff stated suddenly. Regis nodded firmly.

"It's only right. I am still a surgeon, after all."

Dettlaff let out a small sigh, clearly agitated by being so close to humans after so long away from them. Though as long as he did not come too close for comfort, the exposure was beneficial.

"You may stay here while I tend to them. I doubt you wish to be near."

Dettlaff did not reply, but to indicate that the other was right he leaned against the shack that was caving in next to them and crossed his arms over his chest. Thus, Regis left his friend's side and slowly approached the old cabin. The smell of blood grew stronger with every few steps, though soon it was accompanied by smells less pleasant - sweat and vomit being most prominent.

The barber-surgeon soon saw through the windows that there were perhaps ten people in total, coughing and wheezing or grimacing as they held their wounds. Regis was grateful he'd taken up medicine. While it was hard at the beginning of his studies, the field still allowed him to get used to it and forget his horrid past. Blood smelled pleasant to him, but only by genetics - all desire to drink it had luckily gone away many years ago.

One man came outside the house and did not catch Regis' presence, instead leaning against the wall. Despite his old age, he looked the healthiest of all the people. He also looked to be the village elder. He steadied himself on only a frail cane when Regis came near, grey eyes and bushy white eyebrows suddenly staring at him intensely.

"What is it ye want?!"

Regis put his hands up gently and stepped forward, only a few feet from the man.

"There's no reason for you to fret. I'm a surgeon, I can tend to your wounded."

The old man's scowl softened and he looked desperate just then. Wordlessly, he hobbled into the shack behind him and Regis heard him say to the others, "Praise Melitele, a doctor's come!"