After a brief discussion, they decided George would remain in the valley to harvest the most valuable parts from the slain green dragon and giant. Meanwhile, Wayne would return to the human settlement to arrange transportation for the spoils.
The only complication was traversing the swamp – a breeding ground for water wraiths, swamp hags, drowners, and other foul creatures. Having too many people involved could attract unwanted attention.
Fortunately, they were situated about an hour away from the Elven Ruins and roughly two hours from Lower Velen Village. If they could recruit enough help from the villagers, they could secure assistance in transporting the spoils. Regular villagers could complete the one-hour journey in half the time. Wayne traversed the forest and swamp, dispatching several water wraiths along the way, before finally reaching the village nestled near the Elven Ruins.
Upon entering the underground ruins, the villagers, including the village chief, Jeff, greeted him with initial surprise followed by a shift in expression – a mix of apprehension and awkwardness. Sensing this change, Wayne's face hardened. "What's happened, Jeff?" he inquired, his voice firm.
Jeff nervously rubbed his palms together. However, under Wayne's stern gaze and the glimpse of his sword hilt, he mustered his courage and spoke.
"My lord," Jeff stammered, "after you left, the villagers were terrified by the dragon's roars. They panicked, fearing the evil dragon had found this place."
"Some young folks are desperate to flee, clamoring to leave for other settlements."
"I tried to dissuade them, but their pleas grew louder and louder. Seeing no way to stop them, we were about to let them leave."
"Just then, a young man named Leon started an uproar. He declared that the books found here were their birthright and they deserved a share. He then rallied a few others to loot the manuscripts."
"Though I ordered my men to intervene, several youths managed to escape with books in their arms. We couldn't apprehend them in time."
After listening to the village chief's explanation, Wayne felt a surge of frustration. What kind of leadership was this? If they truly intended to stop a few young people, how could they have let them walk away so easily? This story reeked of deceit. He suspected Jeff was afraid of retribution and planned to sell the manuscripts for personal gain.
He glanced back at the corner where he'd stored the manuscripts. Indeed, nearly a third of the pile was missing. Thankfully, the most valuable ones were placed at the bottom. The ones taken were likely historical records or recreational reading materials. Still, this information was valuable. Sorcerers would gladly trade a hefty sum for such knowledge.
He'd purchased these manuscripts with coin, and an agreement had been made. Yet, they vanished within a few hours of his absence. Borch's sudden arrival had forced a rushed departure, leaving no time to properly secure the elven artifacts. This incident solidified his belief – the Velen area was truly a haven for thieves. Perhaps his earlier displays of reason and kindness were misinterpreted as weakness, emboldening these opportunists.
Consumed by rage, Wayne stormed towards village chief Jeff and grabbed him. With a swift movement, he delivered a powerful blow to the man's stomach, leaving him doubled over in pain.
Witnessing this scene, several villagers charged at Wayne, their motives unclear. However, they were woefully unprepared to face a Witcher. Wayne, with his superior physical strength and combat training, easily maneuvered through their attacks. He dodged, punched, kicked, and strategically used villagers as shields, swiftly incapacitating them with throws and disarming strikes. The air was soon filled with cries of pain as the villagers fell to the ground.
Wiping blood from his gauntlet, Wayne spotted a young man lunging towards him with a dagger aimed at his waist. Reacting instinctively, Wayne drew his sword in a blur of motion – so fast it was nearly invisible. The young man's scream was cut short as the dagger and his fingers clattered to the ground. Wayne followed up with a brutal slap, knocking out several of the young man's teeth.
The sight of the bloodied blade and Wayne's steely gaze silenced the remaining villagers. Fear and panic replaced their initial defiance. In truth, this was the first time Wayne had resorted to such violence against civilians. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over him – a chilling satisfaction mixed with a deep unease. He wasn't one to bully the weak, but sometimes, situations demanded a forceful response. Even if it meant bloodshed, certain lines had to be drawn.
With the village chief, Jeff, struggling to his feet, Wayne pressed the tip of his sword against the man's throat. His voice was cold and laced with menace. "I am Wayne of the Sweyn family, heir to the Barony of Sweyn. And Baron of Velen is a close friend of mine."
"By order of His Excellency, Baron Sweyn," Wayne declared, his voice thick with anger, "I was tasked with slaying the fearsome dragon! Yet, you commoners dared to steal from me?"
The Sweyn family, though not the most prominent Barons in Vizima City, held a respectable position. Wayne's imposing demeanor – a calculated act of a young, vigorous noble – served to intimidate these simple villagers.
Indeed, in this feudal age, noble titles held far greater sway than any knight, bandit, or even a Witcher. The cold steel pressed against Jeff's throat proved far less persuasive than Wayne's revealed lineage and his supposed friendship with Baron Velen.
Hearing Wayne's claim to nobility and his association with Baron Velen, Jeff immediately crumbled, dropping to his knees. Witnessing this, several other villagers followed suit, overcome by a mixture of fear and respect.
Undeterred by their display, Wayne continued his stern warning, his voice laced with menace. "Listen well, commoners. I grant you three days to return my stolen property. If I return to Lower Valen Village in three days' time and find any thieves lingering, Baron Velen will issue an arrest warrant. The punishment for such thievery… is hanging."
With that pronouncement, Wayne grabbed Jeff by the collar, hauling him close. His voice remained heavy with anger. "Now, mark my words, ungrateful villagers. I have slain the green dragon, freeing your village from its menace. In return, I demand ten strong men to assist me in retrieving my spoils from the dragon's lair."
"As for the rest of you," he continued, his gaze sweeping across the remaining villagers, "you may return to your village. You need no longer fear monstrous attacks. However, be warned, I will not tolerate further provocations. If you choose to test my patience, the wrath of the Sweyn family will be swift and unforgiving."
No villager dared to challenge Wayne's threats. Under his watchful eye, Jeff, the village elder, quickly organized the evacuation of women, children, and the infirm back to Lower Valen. He then assembled a group of ten strong youths, and together with Wayne, carrying the remaining manuscripts, they set off towards the valley where George awaited.