Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 601 603. Delivery

 Sixty warriors followed the witcher out of the camp with their bows and arrows cocked and their swords unsheathed.

Before they had gone far, they heard cheers erupting from the camp behind them.

 The refugees are once again celebrating that they are one step closer to a stable and peaceful life and that they are getting rid of a security risk.

Hiri gritted his teeth and angrily beat everything that passed by with dead branches picked up from the ground.

Dandelion rarely made a wisecrack on the road.

The witchers seemed to have long been accustomed to being chased away in disgust after saving people, so Geralt and Gerd looked indifferent.

There were only the sound of silent footsteps and the crunching of dead branches and leaves. There was also the sound of Ciri beating tree trunks and shrubs with dead branches.

 No one was in the mood to care about time, so they walked in silence until the sky turned fish-belly white.

 “We have been walking for at least four hours.”

Dandelion suddenly said coldly.

"I think that's enough? At least four hours! You, the 'great', 'heroic', 'fearless and brave' Sintra warriors, should go back and join the people you are sworn to defend to the death."

“Let’s be honest, I would rather encounter the large group of Nilfgaardian pursuers you are talking about than look at you again.”

“It would be easier for me to have the Nilfgaardians kill me than to stay with you guys from Cintra!”

 “Don’t talk like that about the people of Cintra!” Ciri screamed.

"I don't admit it! I don't admit that they are Sintra people! We are not so shameless! So despicable!"

“Grandma Calanthe and those who finally committed suicide in the city of Sintra are the real Sintra people!”

 The singing of two people, one big and one small, is obviously quite lethal in terms of ridicule.

 Lan En was listening nearby, feeling that if he were from Sintra, he would probably be furious by now.

However, among the sixty warriors walking around the witchers, they remained silent and just lowered their heads deeper.

 The weapon in his hand was squeezed tighter by his palm.

 The three demon hunters frowned almost at the same time, sensing something was wrong.

Leaving aside the refugees from Sintra, they have already been frightened into quail by the cruelty of the war.

But this group of warriors were still fighting **** battles with the Nilfgaardian army at dusk yesterday.

 Everyone is injured now, and blood is still oozing under the bandages!

 Such a person is not bloodless.

Even if they feel guilty for expelling the witchers, it is certainly not the case that no one will speak out.

 Lann’s boots crushed the dead leaves and stopped in place.

As soon as he stopped, the whole team stopped immediately.

The sound of metal clashing caused by the armor suddenly coming to rest from a moving state was endless.

 But the sixty soldiers around him still lowered their heads and no one spoke.

 Lan En felt an unpleasant feeling suddenly appear in his heart.

“Who is your leader? Let him come out and speak. If Stuart doesn’t follow, he should have appointed a leader for you, right?”

 No one spoke, and no one stood up.

It was as if these sixty warriors had been cast under a spell.

Their eyes wandered and their faces turned sideways, subconsciously avoiding meeting Lan En's searching eyes.

Xili, whose face was originally red with anger, now blinked and was confused. Dandelion's face stiffened.

"Okay, okay!" The poet seemed to have thought of some vicious inspiration from his previous dramatic works in an instant, and shouted loudly.

"Are you using us as bait? Drive us out and let us lure the Nilfgaardian pursuers?!"

 Among the soldiers who had remained silent during the previous sarcasm, a voice suddenly seemed to be irritated by this sentence and retorted loudly.

 “No! We don’t!”

Lan En's eyes lit up and he raised his feet and walked towards the direction of the voice.

These soldiers wanted to stand in front of him and stop them, but Lan En pushed them aside as if they were sending children away.

 Finally, Lan En caught a warrior who was slightly shorter than the others.

"What do you mean?"

Lan En looked down at him with burning eyes.

The short warrior stiffened slightly, then took off his helmet with a sigh of relief.

“Four hours should be enough.”

 He murmured quietly.

 He raised his head, and Lan En's expression suddenly stiffened.

 This is a half-grown child.

 But age is no longer a concern in this war-torn land. What’s more noteworthy is—

 He is the little scribe who has been following Haxo, holding a big notebook and taking notes non-stop!

Geralt and Gerd, who were standing nearby and watching, now opened their eyes wide and came closer.

Huckthorne’s little clerk seems to be called Lincoln?

 Ever since he took off the full-face helmet, his expression could be seen by everyone.

It was not the fear and shrinking caused by being caught by someone like Lan En who could crush him to death with just a handshake, but a kind of extraordinarily desolate and sorrowful feeling.

He seemed to regard speaking under Lan En's gaze as a task, and he spoke in a precise manner.

"Now, we have left the camp for four hours. In view of the ample time and distance, and the respected Master Lan En has noticed the abnormality, I will deliver a commission to you here."

As he spoke, he sniffed and sounded a little childish.

He solemnly and solemnly took out the large tome he had been holding in his hand from the backpack on his back.

Hold his hands up towards Lan En.

At this moment, it seemed that he finally couldn't hold it back any longer. Tears welled up from his eyes, leaving conspicuous marks on his face stained with dust.

Lan En looked at the tome with flickering eyes. His expression was not calm. It was obvious that he had already made a guess in his heart, but he was not willing to believe it.

 He hesitated with his outstretched hand, but finally landed on it and picked it up.

This notepad, which required both hands to be held in Lincoln's hands, was like a normal-sized book in his hands.

 Open this big notepad.

“This was the first day that the Nilfgaardians broke through the outer wall of the city of Sintra. In the day after the city wall fell, fires were set off in three urban areas including the Oak Area and the Barrel Area, with the death toll reaching”

"The day after the city wall fell, the Nilfgaardians began to besiege the palace. At the same time, they began executions on the other side of the palace moat. According to what I saw with my own eyes, the steward of the royal family of Cintra, Haxo Linn, among them were Seventy percent of those executed are unarmed civilians. If given the opportunity and necessary, I am willing to swear an oath in front of the statue of the Meritelli Temple for all the words I have said."

 Always turning back, Lan En's reading speed was used to the extreme at this moment.

  It was a whole tome, and he had roughly read it all in less than ten seconds.

The content here is not, as Dandelion guessed, an autobiography used by Haxor to praise himself.

But a record of what the Nilfgaardians did in the land of Cintra, recorded from the perspective of Haxor!

 (End of this chapter)