Sixty warriors wound their bows and arrows, their blades unsheathed, and followed the witcher out of the camp.

They hadn't gone far before they heard cheers erupt from the camp behind them.

Once again, the refugees celebrated that they had taken a step closer to a stable and peaceful life, and that they had escaped a hidden danger to safety.

Ciri gritted his teeth and angrily whipped everything he passed by with the dead branches he picked up on the ground.

Dandrion was rare on the road and didn't say a word of quip.

The demon hunters seem to have long been accustomed to being chased away in disgust after saving people, so Geralt and Gerd look indifferent.

There was only the sound of silent footsteps, creaking on dead branches and leaves. There was also the sound of Ciri whipping tree trunks and bushes with dead branches.

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

"We've been walking for at least four hours."

Dandrion suddenly said coldly.

"Enough I think? At least four hours! You 'great', 'heroic', 'fearless and brave' Sintra warriors, you should go back and join your people who are defending to the death."

"Let's put it bluntly, I'd rather actually meet the big force of Nilfgaard pursuers you talk about than look at you again."

"It's better for me to have the Nilfgaard slaughter me than to be with you Sintra!"

"Don't say that about the Sintra!" Ciri screamed.

"I don't admit it! I don't recognize them as Sintraans! We're not so seedless! So despicable! ”

"Grandma. Caranther and the last man who committed suicide in the city of Sintra are the real Sintra people! ”

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

Lan listened from the side, feeling that if he was a native of Sintra, he would probably be angry by this time.

However, the sixty warriors who walked around the demon hunters did not say a word, only lowered their heads deeper.

The weapon in the hand was pinched tighter by the palm of the hand.

The three witchers frowned almost at the same time, sensing that something was wrong.

Leave aside the refugees of Sintra, who have already been frightened into quails by the harshness of war.

But this group of warriors, who were still fighting the Nilphgaard army at dusk yesterday.

Now everyone is wounded, and blood is still oozing under the bandages!

Such people will not be bloodless.

Even if you feel guilty about expelling the demon hunters, you certainly won't be left without a voice.

"Click"

Lann's boots crumbled on the dead leaves and stopped in place.

As soon as he stopped, the whole team stopped in an instant.

The sound of metal colliding with the armor from its abrupt stillness in motion was endless.

But the sixty warriors around him still bowed their heads, and none of them spoke.

In Lan En's heart, a bad feeling suddenly appeared inexplicably.

"Who's your leader? Let him come out and speak. If Stewart doesn't come along, he should have set up a leader for you, right? ”

No one spoke, and no one stood up.

It's as if these sixty warriors had been spelled.

Their gaze wandered and turned sideways, subconsciously avoiding making eye contact with Lan En's requiring eyes.

Ciri, who was originally flushed with anger, now blinked and confused. Dandrien's face stiffened.

"Okay, good!"

It seemed that in an instant, the poet thought of some vicious inspiration from his previous dramatic works, and stumbled and cried out.

"You're using us as bait? Kick us out and let us seduce the pursuers of the Nilfgaards?! ”

Among the silent warriors in the previous sarcasm, a voice suddenly seemed to be irritated by this sentence, and retorted loudly.

"Nope! We don't! ”

Lan En's eyes lit up, and he raised his foot and walked in the direction of the voice.

The warriors tried to stand in front of him and stop them, but they were all pushed aside by Lan En like a child.

Eventually, Ryan captures a warrior who is slightly shorter than the others.

"What do you mean?"

Lan En looked down at him with burning eyes.

The short warrior stiffened slightly, then let out a sigh and took off his helmet.

"Four hours. It should be enough. ”

He muttered under his breath.

He looked up, and Lan's expression froze suddenly.

It's a half-grown child.

But age doesn't need to be cared about in this war-torn land for a long time, and what is more noteworthy is that-

He has been following Hacksoll all the time, and he has been holding a big book and keeping a small clerk!

Geralt and Gerd, who were originally standing by and watching, also widened their eyes at this time and approached.

Hacksoll's little clerk, it seems, is Lincoln?

Ever since he took off his overlay helmet, his expression had been visible to all.

It was not the horror and cringe of someone like Lan who could pinch him to death with a handshake, but a special sadness and sorrow.

He seemed to regard speaking under Lan's gaze as a task, and said it one by one.

"Now, we have been out of the camp for four hours, and given that there is plenty of time, distance, and that Venerable Master Lanen has sensed the anomaly, then I will be here, to deliver a commission to you."

As he spoke, he sniffled, and with a little childish voice.

Solemnly and solemnly, he took out from his backpack behind his back the tome he had kept in his hand.

Raised his hands to Lane.

At this point, he didn't seem to hold back, and tears welled up from his eyes, leaving conspicuous marks on his dusty face.

Lan En looked at the tome with a flickering gaze, his expression was not calm, obviously he had a guess in his heart, but he didn't want to believe it.

His outstretched hand hesitated, but eventually landed on it and picked it up.

The notepad, which needed to be held by both hands in Lincoln's hand, was like a normal-sized book in his hand.

Open this big notepad.

"This was the first day that the Nilfgaard people breached the outer walls of Sintra, and in the day after the fall of the walls, fires broke out in three urban districts, including the Oak District and the Barrel District, and the death toll reached"

"The day after the fall of the wall, the Nilfgaard began to besiege the palace, and at the same time, on the other side of the palace moat, they began to carry out executions, and according to my own eyes, the head of the royal family of Sintra, Haxel Lynn, seventy percent of those executed were unarmed civilians. If given the opportunity and necessary, I am willing to take an oath in front of the statue of the god of Meritelli for all that I say. ”

Scrolling backwards, Lan's reading speed was used to the extreme at this moment.

A large tome, he read it all in less than ten seconds.

It was not, as Dandrion had guessed, an autobiography that Haxel used to sing praises to himself.

It's a book, from the perspective of Haxor, of what the Nilfgaard did in the land of Sintra!

(End of chapter)