Chapter 331: a Lifetime of Riches
Upon hearing the beast's pained roar, the Kaer Trolde soldiers accompanying Lynn and Gerd immediately took up defensive positions. Gerd's greatsword slid from its sheath with a clang, and he vigilantly scanned their surroundings.
Only Lynn did not draw his weapon. He recognized the sound not as an attacking cry, but as a wounded wail. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to go and see what was happening.
"Wait here. I'll be back soon."
He climbed steadily up the nearby hillside. The path was treacherous and, in many places, not a path at all. It was fortunate that his Grandmaster Wolf School armor wasn't overly heavy and that he was agile enough to handle the climb. After a little more than ten minutes, he reached the summit.
A mature griffin, lying in a pool of its own blood, came into view. It had bled profusely, staining a large patch of the ground a deep red. Nearby lay the corpses of two or three dozen harpies. It was clear the two had just fought a fierce battle.
Hearing footsteps, the griffin turned its head. Spotting Lynn, it let out a weak roar, attempting to scare him away.
But Lynn could see that the griffin was covered in wounds, both large and small. The gash on its wing was particularly deep; it was clearly in no condition to fly or pounce. It was nothing more than a bluff.
Yet, despite knowing the griffin posed no threat, Lynn didn't approach recklessly. Unlike in other fantasy settings, griffins in the Witcher world are different from dragons. If dragons (true dragons, not dracoids) are considered intelligent beings, griffins are still largely beasts. Of course, even beasts could be tamed.
Lynn neither drew his sword nor made any hostile moves. Instead, he took out a vial of Superior White Raffard's Decoction and held it up for the griffin to see. A witcher's potion was highly toxic to a human, but for a monster, that small amount of toxicity was not fatal. White Raffard's Decoction could quickly stop bleeding and heal wounds.
Lynn had no idea if a single act of kindness would be enough to earn its loyalty and make it a companion. But he wasn't thinking that far ahead; he figured it was worth a shot.
Perhaps the griffin finally realized Lynn meant no harm, or perhaps its severe injuries and blood loss had made it weak. Slowly, it lowered its guard. Only then did Lynn, vial in hand, cautiously approach.
But as he walked, he suddenly noticed a harpy "corpse" lying near the griffin's side. It moved. The griffin noticed too and swiped its claws, tearing the harpy nearly in half. In its final moments, the dying harpy raked its claws across the griffin's belly.
Lynn was startled. He cast aside his caution and sprinted over, not caring whether he might provoke the griffin. He took two steps for one, rushing to its side.
He then sighed and shook his head. There was nothing to be said. The harpy's dying strike had torn a deep wound across the griffin's stomach, spilling blood, intestines, and other organs. Even a White Raffard's Decoction would be useless now.
He let out a sigh. To be safe, he first made sure to finish off the other harpy corpses on the ground before returning to the griffin. It had been grievously injured already, only holding on by sheer will. The harpy's last-gasp retaliation had been the final straw that broke the camel's back.
By the time Lynn came back, the griffin had breathed its last. He shook his head and bowed his head for a few seconds in a moment of silent respect.
Just then, he saw the griffin's body stir slightly. Lynn instinctively leaped back, his hand tightening on the hilt of his Grandmaster Silver Sword. Just as he was about to assume it was another harpy playing dead, a small head struggled to emerge from beneath the griffin's corpse.
It was a griffin fledgling, its eyes not even open yet.
The little griffin painstakingly crawled out from under its mother's body. Perhaps it was the sudden silence, or the loss of its mother's comforting warmth, but the fledgling huddled close to the corpse and let out a small, fearful chirp, its tiny body trembling.
Lynn sheathed his silver sword, knelt down, and gently stroked the little creature's head with the back of his hand. Feeling the warmth, the fledgling instinctively leaned into him, its trembling subsiding. It chirped again, but this time the tone was different.
His intuition told him: it was hungry.
Lynn took some dried meat from his pouch. The griffin chick, smelling the food, turned its head towards the scent despite its eyes being closed. The little thing was polite, though. Instead of snatching the meat, it nudged Lynn's hand with its tiny head and let out a heart-wrenching whimper. Lynn found himself caught between a mix of sympathy and amusement.
He stopped teasing it, gently pried open its beak, and placed a piece of dried meat inside. The little creature was smart; it seemed to know that the thing in its mouth was food, and it began to eat greedily. It was still so small; it only ate half a piece of the human-sized jerky before it was full.
After it was done, it nudged Lynn's hand again, rubbing against it in a show of affection. Lynn picked it up, and it didn't resist, instead settling into the witcher's arms and, before long, purring softly.
Gerd and the soldiers waited for a while before Lynn returned, carrying the small creature. Lynn briefly explained what had happened on the mountaintop. The others were astonished. Even Gerd, in his decades as a witcher, had never encountered anything like it.
"A griffin?" he said. "I've heard young griffins are very popular with mages. That little thing must be worth a fortune."
"No," Lynn replied. "I'm not selling it. I'm going to keep it."
"Keep it?" Gerd was dumbfounded. But then he thought about it. They had just received a hefty reward from Count Torgier, and they could certainly afford to feed a griffin. Thinking about this, Gerd couldn't help but feel a pang of envy. Other witchers rode horses, but Lynn would be able to ride a griffin. How magnificent would that be?
Still, Gerd's envy was just that. If it were him, he would be worried about the griffin eating him out of house and home.
The next step was simple enough. The rest of the Kaer Trolde soldiers and the griffin chick would stay behind. Lynn and Gerd would drink their superior potions, grab their alchemy bombs, and enter Aethelard Castle.
(End of Chapter)
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