The Divine Hunter

“Did you find any clues?” The bald guard bowed at the witcher, simpering.

“No. It’s a shame. The kids are a bit too shy. Like tortoises who don’t want to see anyone. Any little movement scares them. I couldn’t ask them in time.” Acamuthorm carefully held the doll in his arms, and he looked at the bald guard. The morning sunlight shone on his face, but he didn’t have a look of relief at all.

He wasn’t worried about the witcher asking the kids questions in private. “Carl has confirmed that Sinny is not a suspect. The monsters didn’t leave anything behind. So we can’t cleanse the corpses before nightfall, then?”

“That depends on how much you’re cooperating with us.”

“Ask away. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

Acamuthorm mused. “I saw a girl just now. Fifteen years old, gold hair, brown eyes. She reminds me of a friend, so I wonder where she comes from. How’d she come to this temple?”

“Angouleme. Poor girl.” Rumachi wondered why the witcher was changing the subject, but he answered, “A noblewoman gave birth to her in secret, but her mother’s lust for vanity outweighed her sense of responsibility. She refused to give her daughter any love, so she left her in a relative’s house in Sodden when the girl was about six years old.”

“That explains why she’s so cautious.” Acamuthorm empathized with her. Children without their parents were like boats without an anchor. Even if they had relatives taking care of them, they’d only be surviving on the bare minimum. If their relatives were the harsher type, the kids would be better off orphaned. Compared to her, he was lucky. The brotherhood took him in and raised him into a fine warrior, giving him the power to protect himself in this world. Giving him the power to exact justice to the extent of his strength.

“Then Nilfgaard’s army invaded the North, and a battle broke out in Sodden Hill. The whole area was dragged into the mess. War’s an uncertain and fickle thing, so her relative and their family moved to Kovir and Poviss.”

Rumachi looked at the patch of red kale outside the fence in the courtyard. The veggies bloomed in the snow like red roses. “They journeyed a long way, starving most of the time. When they passed this area, her relatives thought that they couldn’t afford to keep Angouleme even if they got into the city. She was just twelve back then. They dumped her at the temple’s entrance like deadweight.”

The bald guard wiped his nonexistent tears away. “Her family abandoned her, so she leapt into the arms of our savior, Lebioda, ending her wandering life.” He opened his arms at the dorms, speaking animatedly. “Now she has a quiet life. I, Daisy, and Dino are more responsible than that failure of a mother and heartless relatives.”

“So she was abandoned twice?”

“Is that so odd? All the kids here have gone through similar experiences. They lost their family in the war and became orphans. Or their families go bankrupt, and their parents can’t afford them anymore. They’re abandoned on the streets or in the wilds. More than one-third of the kids here were abandoned twice. One boy was abandoned thrice. But the temple, in all its kindness and generosity, took the children in.”

Rumachi continued adamantly, “If the children put all their faith in Lebioda, then this will be their forever home. I, Dino, and Daisy will be their family.”

Acamuthorm felt conflicted. His gut told him that Rumachi was speaking from the bottom of his heart, but Angouleme didn’t seem to like this temple. “I can see you have no talent in raising kids. They’re more cowardly than a mouse.”

“That is not our fault. Not totally.” Rumachi slowed down. He rubbed his neck. “The children had gone through a lot before they came to this temple. The bad environment traumatized them too much, and that made them wary. Cautious. You know how it goes. Childhood trauma haunts you for life.” Rumachi stopped and looked into the distance. Daisy, Carl, and Dino were done talking, and they’d come out of the room. Carl was carrying a knapsack that had the skeletal remains in them.

The young witcher shook his head at Acamuthorm regretfully. That long talk yielded no results, but then Acamuthorm gave him a furtive wink. Acamuthorm found some clues from Angouleme. The ragdoll she mentioned before she left, and the tattoo of Grayba the Black. There were a lot of questions to be answered, so Acamuthorm suggested they should tour the temple.

Sinny agreed to it and accompanied the witchers as they toured the buildings, the kitchen, the main hall, the bathroom, the toilet, and the prayer room. There wasn’t much to say about the tour. Even when the witchers had turned on their witcher senses to the best they could, they found no claw marks or cobwebs.

Everything was normal. And then the last place to tour were the children’s dormitories. Acamuthorm took the chance to make a request. “I only talked to Angouleme for a bit and no one else. They’re scared of strangers. Daisy, I’ll need you to gather them around.”

Daisy pulled her hair back and said, “No problem, but please be gentle and understanding, you two. Destiny has given them too many hardships. They should not be harmed any further.”

“Do not worry. We were orphans once. We understand the pain,” said the witchers.

***

The courtyard gleamed white, and ten kids stood in a formation under the overhang. Acamuthorm saw Angouleme standing at the end of the line. The girl was still craning her neck, looking at the horses in the stable, ignoring the witchers. The other children were sallow and scared. They curled up a little, and under their old, patched clothes were skeletal and hunched bodies. The judgmental looks from the strangers were making them restless. They averted their gaze, twiddled their fingers, spun their feet, and gnashed their teeth.

Daisy stood in the group, and some kids huddled close to her, holding the hem of her dress. They were friendly toward her, just like how children would get close to their mothers.

“Children, for the temple’s safety, you must answer the witchers’ questions honestly. If your answer can help them capture the killer, you get an extra potato during dinner.”

That made the children’s eyes shine with anticipation.

Acamuthorm didn’t waste any time. He held up the doll and looked around. “Anyone ever seen this before?”

The kids shook their heads. Something rippled through them. Acamuthrom pointed at the child in the lead. He was a freckled boy and didn’t look too smart. The child was thin, like a weak chick. “You, answer me.”

The boy was thunderstruck when he was called.

Rumachi pushed him out of the group. “Answer him like a man, Durant!”

The boy’s forehead started glistening with sweat. Nervous, he scratched his head and ears and looked around. He shook his head. “I-I’ve never seen this,” he said, his voice cracking. He looked to his companions for help, but everyone took a step back and isolated him.

“Poor boy. Don’t worry. We won’t cut your head down. Come here and answer us.” Acamuthorm pretended to be waving at the boy nonchalantly. The boy reluctantly came near, and when he finally got close enough, and the temple admins were behind him, Acamuthorm quickly held down the boy’s left sleeve and grabbed his skeletal hand with his right. He swayed the hand as fast as possible and furtively pulled the sleeve up. Once he had a look, he pulled it back down.

Grayba the Black. That black web-shaped tattoo again.

This was done subtly, and not even the boy noticed it. Everyone only saw Acamuthorm stuffing a piece of jerky into the boy’s hand. “Eat. This is a present for you. Do you feel better? What’s your name? How old are you? How long have you been in this temple?”

“Lampaia. I’m twelve years old. Um… I’ve been here for four years.”

“Have you ever seen anything invade the temple or attack it before? Think hard.” Acamuthorm raised his voice, making sure everyone could hear him, “Perhaps you can’t name them? Let me give you some hints. Lynx, snow leopards, wolf spiders, or anything like that.”

Lampaia suddenly looked back at Daisy. He gained encouragement from her motherly smile. Fearfully, he said, “N-No. I’d have remembered if I’d seen those creatures. I’d never forget about them.”

Acamuthrom nodded and raised his chin, letting the boy go. He exchanged another look with Carl. “Anyone have any other answers?”

The witchers scanned the kids. They looked at a lanky boy with gray hair, a stout kid with a flat nose and buck teeth, and a silly girl with a big braid. The kids who were seen shivered and shook their heads like little birds who didn’t want to be eaten.action

“Now do you believe us?” Dino stroked his beard. “No one has ever seen any cats or spiders.”

Rumachi agreed, “That tragedy is long gone. No traces left behind. Let the past be the past. What’s important now is to cleanse the remains you’re carrying.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Acamuthorm said. “Or perhaps there’s another possibility.” He paused, and then he raised his voice to a volume that could influence the hearts of people. “Children, are you threatened by something? Is something forcing you to not tell us the truth?”

“Do you see the swords we bear? We have slain hundreds of monsters with our weapons,” Carl said, adamant. “Tell us everything. We’ll keep you safe.”

And then, silence fell in the courtyard. Only a gust of breeze crossed by, taking a pile of snow with it. The kids blanched, and they held their breaths. They stayed silent and hung their heads low.

“What do you mean, witchers?” Rumachi put on a look of incredulity. He was hurt by the question, and he no longer simpered. Fury flared in his eyes. “We did everything you asked us to, and you’re still suspecting us? You doubt our love for the children?”

“You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about something that’s hiding in the dark, get it?”

“Why won’t you two believe us?” There was sadness in Daisy’s eyes. Tears glistened in her eyes, and her shoulders shivered. “Do witchers see everything in nothing but black and white? Is everything either good or evil?”

The children around Daisy looked like they were agitated. Their fear melted away. They tensed up, and their eyes were filled with contempt and fury. An invisible wave of strength was pushing them to approach the witchers slowly. The kids were glaring at them, clenching their teeth.

Angouleme was part of the group too, but there was a hidden plea on her contorted face. “Leave, witchers!”

Childlike voices roared through the quiet courtyard. The branches shivered, and snow fell to the ground.

“Do not slander our family!”

“The temple does not welcome you!”

The kids roared with all their might.

“Leave!”

“Leave!”

The witchers were in the center of this storm, and they blanched. All they had to do was swing their blades, and the children would fall like leaves, but they retreated as if they were facing a tsunami, and they were almost at the stables.

They were reminded of something that happened a few years ago. Everyone from the House of Gawain stood before their teachers, facing off the mob made of the church members, the Beggar King, and the Cleaver. This was just like that day. They stood for their mentors back then as well. But are the two scenes really the same? Is it wrong for us to find the real answers? Are we going to let the kids die in vain just like that? Is Angouleme’s struggle and hesitance fake? Are we going to give up just like this?

No. We have another choice.

“I’m sore.” Carl took a few deep breaths and forced himself to calm down, then he exchanged a look with pale Acamuthorm.

“We’ll leave right now.”

“Right away.”

***

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