9 Chapter 9

"You know boy, these bones may be old but they still work! Some things only get better with age!" The words of the old woman were accompanied by harsh cackles.

Time had bent her back and her eyes held a cloudiness that spoke of centuries lived, however her gnarled hands moved with dexterity and precision that age alone could not diminish.

Every few stitches her cracked lips would move and spew out a few lecherous sentences.

This provided Henry no end of amusement and several times his knees, weak with laughter, had landed him smack on his arse amidst empty rolls of fabric and dust covered maniquin heads.

While his newly made friend struggled to overcome his laughter and flailed weakly on the floor, Konlan stood with his arms astretch.

Old mother Hagwen, who had been introduced to him by Henry, busily cut and stitched fabric to his measurements.

"Are you nearly finished?" Konlan asked through gritted teeth.

Old Mother Hagwen was a master with the needle, her hands were no weaker than that of a trained archer.

Yet her hands frequently slipped and caressed Konlan's stomach, shoulders and even dangerously lower.

He was paying handsomely for extra durable materials and tailoring; the already high price did not include selling his body to an old woman.

"Oh the haste of youth! Always rushing, always rushing, can't you let this frail old woman take her time?"

In the past Konlan had spent days or even weeks watching his targets and creating ways to exploit their habits. Patience was not something he lacked.

However being taken advantage of by an old woman made his hand instinctively reach for his blade.

After his patience had been worn thin, Konlan became unable to ensure any longer.

Immediately the temperature in the room plumetted until ice crystals seemed to faintly form in the air.

"Sew faster."

Henry shivered violently. The palpable tension in the air transported him back to the battlefield; he remembered his first battle.

Rows upon rows of soldiers that stretched for hundreds of meters. The scent or iron and blood so thick in the air that it could be tasted with every breath. 

Old Mother Hagwen fared far worse than the hardened soldier. Blood poured from her outstretched hand, the needle having been accidentally embedded deep in her palm. 

The sagging skin on her face trembled violently as she took long shuddering breaths.

The sensation of death looming just seconds away filled her mind with terror. 

A quarter of an hour later a tall ruggedly dressed man walked out from Old Mother Hagwen's shop. 

His clothes were that of a hunter and a knife hung in its sheath at his side. An onlooker with a discerning eye might notice a few drops of crimson on the cuffs of his jacket. 

Henry walked silently beside the stranger he had so warmly welcomed into his home. He had fought in the slaughter fields of war, his perception had been sharpened time and time again as he narrowly escaped the reaper's cold touch. 

The murderous intent he had felt in that shop could not be cultivated by spilled animal blood alone. Human lives were required.

"Who are you really?" The words came out Henry's throat low and somber. 

Without words both men halted their footsteps and stood facing one another. For the first time Henry truly looked into Konlan's eyes. 

His irises were a dull earthy brown. Flecks of iridescent pale green scattered throughout. 

Those eyes.

Konlan's skin was young and firm and every footstep carried with it the unmistakable vigor of youth. 

Yet those eyes. 

Those eyes that contained an endless depth that drew Henry in deeper and deeper into its fold. These eyes did not belong to a young man. 

Harsh clanking sounds echoed in the empty street. The sound was metallic and quick. 

Konlan observed the man he had so recently considered a friend. He listened to that scared pounding heartbeat. The groans of iron clashing against iron as the guard's trembling knees and armor uncontrollably bashed against one another. 

He could smell the repulsive scent of sweat and urine intensifying as time passed. 

Konlan spoke coldly, "I won't stay any longer. Thank you for the kindness you have shown me." 

Initially he had intended to stay for a few days in this settlement. His poor understanding of the murderous intent two integrations had intertwined with his spirit had lead to this possibility shattering. 

'I need to be more careful.' 

From this trip Konlan had acquired various items of great value; a map of the continent, durable clothing for his travels and dried food and a sheath for his blade. 

Ultimately this had come at the cost of his first friend in this new world. 

The sun fell gradually on the horizon.

Konlan had entered the village at midday and now not even a day later he was leaving. 

Watchful pairs of eyes stared out from locked windows, closely following the stranger's figure draw closer to the village gates. 

Gullard and another man stood at the gates. 

The new guard was about to speak when a blade held against his chest stopped the words in his throat. Gullard looked at his companion with steely resolve. 

Taking his new companion by the shoulder, Gullard silently stepped out of the way and allowed Konlan to pass. 

No words were exchanged. 

As quickly as he had come, the mysterious stranger now walked out of the village. 

For years to come the tale of wanderer who had crippled Old Mother Hawgwen's right hand would be told in the village of Ludwin. 

Back in the welcome embrace of the forests Konlan felt a strange sense of belonging.

The winds whispered secrets to him and moon high above bathed the trees in a gentle silver glow. 

The blue panel would not allow him to be a nameless pawn in fate's game. To integrate rarer cards and grow stronger he needed to seek out those individuals that held true sway over destiny. 

Due to his lack of understanding of The Witcher world, Konlan had very little idea of when the events depicted in the television series took place. 

Fortunately his IQ was no less than that of a renowned scientist. His cognitive abilities were much beyond human limits.

From pieces of conversation he had overhead using his superhuman hearing, he had pieced together his next destination.

'I look forward to meeting you...."