109 To Crow's Nest

The dragon tooth horn proved remarkably effective. Five days after Wayne blew it, Borch materialized on Wayne's doorstep in Vizima City. The stocky, brown-haired man exuded anxiety. Relief washed over him upon seeing Wayne, but suspicion lingered in his voice. "Friend," he rumbled, "when I heard your call, I feared the worst. What brings you to use the horn?"

"You seem well," Borch continued, his gaze searching. "Is there anything I can do?"

Wayne ushered Borch inside, offering him a warm drink and a chance to rest. Once settled, Wayne launched into a brief explanation. "Borch, while Wolf School witchers generally avoid dragons, others might not share our sentiment."

"Information suggests the green dragon in Velen is indeed malevolent. Over five farmers have fallen victim to its wrath, and a village reportedly lies in ashes because of it." Wayne paused, letting the weight of the situation sink in.

"Even if we don't intervene, mages or the human army will undoubtedly take action. That's why I summoned you, to get your opinion. Though it's of your own kind, it should be held accountable for its actions."

Borch listened intently, a flicker of conflicting emotions crossing his face. The news of another dragon sparked a flicker of kinship, but the description painted a grim picture. As a benevolent golden dragon, long supported by humans, Borch couldn't condone such brutality.

A tense silence stretched for several seconds before Borch downed his drink and spoke with a heavy heart. "Very well, friend. We'll proceed as you suggest. If the green dragon surrenders, I'll imprison it in Zerrikan for eternity. If it fights, then..." He trailed off, the weight of the decision settling in. 

Seeing Borch's understanding, Wayne felt a surge of relief. Though it was a complex task for his friend, a playful glint sparked in his eyes. "What if," he teased, "the other party happens to be female?"

Borch's face went rigid for a moment before he leaned back with a sigh, contemplating Wayne's question. After a thoughtful pause, he shook his head regretfully. "The approach remains the same. Myrgtabrakke, my wife, wouldn't tolerate another spouse." He paused again, a flicker of warmth crossing his features. "However, if she has young dragonlings, I wouldn't mind adopting one."

With their plan for the dragon settled Wayne swiftly packed his belongings and mounted Borch. Soaring through the night sky, they reached the village of Crow's Nest just before dawn.

Before heading to Velen, Wayne had already gathered information from Keira. The current lord of Velen is Baron Wesselard, whose territory, while extensive, consists mainly of wastelands, swamps, and impoverished lands. Consequently, the baron doesn't have many subjects, and those he does have are mostly poor and struggling to feed themselves.

Therefore, Baron Wesselard held little sway within the Kingdom of Temeria, a mere marginal figure with minimal real power. Wayne and Borch's sole objective in Velen was the green dragon; they had no interest in entanglements with this minor noble.

Upon reaching their destination, they waited for several hours in the woods outside Crow's Nest until dawn. Using the camouflage glasses gifted by Keira, Wayne blended in as a typical human mercenary, while Borch disguised himself as a traveling mercenary. Noble pretenses cast aside, the two entered Crow's Nest openly.

This village, encircled by towering wooden walls, boasted a population of around two to three hundred residents. As Baron Wesselard's direct territory, Crow's Nest lacked a dedicated commercial district. However, compared to other villages under the Baron's rule, it sported a handful of small, specialized shops, marking it as a relatively prosperous settlement within the region.

Wayne and Borch scoured the village for a functioning tavern, eventually stumbling upon one run by a captivating woman named Lisa. Tragedy had struck Lisa – her husband fell victim to a monstrous creature. Years of study equipped her with the skills to manage accounts and provide good customer service. Thus, she took charge of this small establishment alongside her son to make ends meet.

Customers were scarce in Velen, even rarer in Crow's Nest. In fact, Borch and Wayne found themselves as the sole patrons of the tavern. Eager to earn a living, Lisa proved a warm and enthusiastic host. While the food and wine couldn't be called exquisite, they were cleanly prepared, a step above the offerings of other backcountry establishments. The few mushroom dishes, sourced fresh from the surrounding forest, were a particular delight. Unfortunately for Wayne, the Gwent card craze hadn't reached this remote corner of Velen, dashing his hopes of finding new players for a friendly match.

The two passed the time eating, drinking, and playing Gwent until late afternoon when Lisa's son brought in a dusty man from outside. It was George, who had come to join them.

Relief washed over George's face as he spotted Wayne and Borch. A smile broke out as he greeted them, then settled into a chair at their table after a brief introduction from Wayne. Borch, ever the inquisitive dragon, peppered George with questions about the witcher life, much like he had with Wayne. George, a Griffin School veteran with a good-natured disposition, found himself equally curious about Borch's identity as a golden dragon. The three conversed in a convivial atmosphere.

Evening approached, and despite it being past the usual time for farm work, the tavern remained deserted. Perhaps the villagers were simply too poor. Lisa, the charming widow who ran the establishment, couldn't hide a frown as she sat by the counter.

After a lengthy conversation, it was dinnertime. Wayne stretched and beckoned Lisa over. The widow, still downcast due to the lack of customers, approached them eagerly. She discreetly steered clear of George, whose appearance was perhaps a bit unconventional. A subtle brush of her hand against Wayne's arm, her voice brimming with hope, "Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?"

Wayne smiled and nodded. He pulled out a few golden oren and placed them on the table. "My friend here had a long journey," he explained softly. "He must be famished and thirsty. Please bring out your finest wine and food. We have hearty appetites. If your supplies run low, feel free to buy more from outside. We'd like a good feast."

Lisa's face broke into a wide smile at the sight of the gold coin. She promptly tucked them away and instructed her son to fetch a few bottles of their best wine. Leaning down slightly, revealing a glimpse of cleavage, she added in a courteous tone, "Don't worry, good sir. I'll take care of it right away. Alan, next door, is the village's best hunter. He's bound to have a fresh game at home. I'll go fetch some now."

As Lisa scurried off to prepare their meal, Wayne handed George a bottle of Vizima Champion and inquired, "How have you been faring, George?"

George took a sip from the bottle before responding, "I arrived in Velen two days ago and have been gathering information about the green dragon. I've got some leads, but I got sidetracked yesterday."

Wayne's eyebrows shot up. "What happened?"

George's expression darkened as he took another swig of wine. "The local officials found me and offered a different job. Apparently, ships keep running aground and sinking near a lighthouse by the sea. They suspect ghosts are to blame and wanted me to investigate."

A tinge of anger crept into George's voice. "Turns out, a group of thugs were deliberately setting bonfires on the reef-laden shores, mistaking them for lighthouses, to lure passing ships to their doom. I found the culprits, but these gangsters seemed to have local connections."

"They not only refused to confess but tried to frame me. They hired a group of thugs to ambush me, hoping to leave no witnesses. Needless to say, I beat them soundly and wouldn't let them go until the officials intervened."

"Thankfully, the authorities here seemed reasonable. They knew about my investigation and didn't buy the thugs' lies. A few got hanged, and the rest are cooling their heels in jail. Otherwise, I might have been spending the night in a cell myself."

Hearing George's ordeal, Wayne furrowed his brow in silence. Borch, however, interjected with curiosity, "These gangsters seem rather overconfident. Did they honestly think they could overpower a witcher and get away with it?"