Chapter 7 -- A Night to Remember
*****
I was on horseback again. I'd woken next to Keira the next morning, and after another round of lovemaking, always the best way to start a day, she asked another favour. I had a feeling I was taking payment for all these favours in the form of sexual favours in return, but considering I'd done that before on Skyrim, and the fact I genuinely liked her, I didn't mind.
I was approaching what was locally known as Hangman's Alley, as there was at least a dozen or so bodies hanging at the end of a rope. Some bodies were fresh. Others... were not. That normally wouldn't have bothered me, and I would have just got on with finding the merchant that had been delivering good direct to Keira.
But first, I had to deal with a small mob. Dismounting some distance away, I kept my sword sheathed for the time being as I approached the group, and I noticed the lone Nilfgaardian on the ground. He was bruised and bloodied, obvious that the locals had already taken retribution against them for the invasion that had taken place months before.
"What's going on here?" I demanded, making sure my voice almost boomed around the entire region.
"He's a fuckin' Black One. We're gonna 'ang 'im!" one of the peasants replied.
"You best fuck off before you join 'im," another threatened.
"What has this man done to deserve such punishment?" I wondered.
"He's a fuckin' Black One. Anyone wearin' that emblem deserves to 'ang," the first peasant replied.
"Is this man responsible for every murder and crime committed during the conflict?"
There was no reply for a few seconds. "Maybe, maybe not. But he's a Black One. He deserves to 'ang," another peasant replied.
I took a few steps forward. Being taller and broader, despite the fact they were armed with clubs and rusty swords, all but one took a few steps back. Keeping an eye on them, I asked, "What's your story, Nilfgaardian? Why are you here?"
"Please help me!" he pleaded, "I have a wife and child. A newborn. I'm a deserter! I didn't want to fight. I just want to go home!"
"Back off!" one of the peasant warned, "He's goin' to 'ang! Fuck off or you join 'im."
Unsheathing my sword, I sighed. "I warn you only once. Leave the man be."
The warning fell on deaf ears, one of the peasant charging. I stepped and swung, putting him on the ground with one stroke. That lit the fire within the others, and I was soon taking on five at once. That's when they discovered, in addition to skill with my sword, I had magic. I knew they were peasants, that they'd seen the worst of war, that they had probably had their few possessions requisitioned, that they were likely hungry, but while I had no love for anyone wearing the black armour of Nilfgaard, I wasn't going to let any man in uniform be strung up like a common criminal.
I tried to injure them only, but they were angry, and wouldn't listen to reason. I killed one at time, hoping they'd back off, but seeing their friends killed simply increased their anger. And angry as they were, and without any talent with the weapons they wielded, they dropped easily but refused to see sense. Face to face with the last one, I almost begged for him to just drop his weapon and walk away.
"You killed my fuckin' friends, you cunt. I'm going to kill you in return."
I sighed, waited for him to strike... and then I took his head. "Fucking idiots," I muttered to myself before I approached the Nilfgaardian. I placed the bloodied point of the sword at his throat. "You had better not have lied to me," I growled.
"I swear I didn't, sire. I have a letter, from my wife. I can show you if you untie me."
Sheathing my sword, I helped him up and undid the binding at his wrists before he took a letter from inside his jacket, handing it over for me to read.
Dilvyn,
I lost my father and brother in the last Nordling war. Please, come back to me, for I'm afraid I'll lose my husband, too, and our little Beatrys will lose her father.
I know the punishment for desertion. But I also know some men have made it home unscathed. We'll hide at Iffan's farm, you'll wait out the war in peace there.
I pray for you every day.
Alveen
I sighed with relief that I'd made the right choice. Enough fathers, husbands and sons had already died in this godforsaken war. He might have been my enemy at one point, but my war was over, and as I said, I wasn't going to stand by and someone lynch. I handed the latter back. "Thank you," he said, offering his hand, which I shook without hesitation.
"Okay, you need to head south immediately, Dilvyn. My best suggestion would be to keep to the back roads, avoid any towns and villages, and get to the Yaruga as quickly as you can. You might wear the black but men from either side deserve to make it home alive to their families."
"What is your name, sire? So I can tell my wife and child who saved my life."
"Ragnar. Ragnar Dragonborn."
"I will pray for your health and safety every day, Ragnar Dragonborn. I owe you my life."