Chapter 38: Foglet and Gorgon
"I'll spare you easily enough, but first, tell me where you learned to speak?" Facing the Foglet's plea, Arthur showed no signs of relaxing, instead applying slight pressure with his sword.
His hand-and-a-half sword was forged by an ordinary blacksmith in White Orchard and made from common iron ingots. Thus, it couldn't cleave a falling handkerchief in two like a Witcher's blade.
But if the hand gripping the hilt was strong enough, it could still carve bleeding gashes across the monster's thick, leathery hide.
The Foglet's body trembled continuously but refused to answer Arthur's question, merely repeating in the young boy's voice: "Spare me, spare me!"
A sudden realization flooded Arthur's mind: This monster can't speak human language at all. It's only mimicking the screams of its victims, using them as a weapon to disturb the prey's will!
Then what more was there to say?
Arthur applied force with both hands. The Foglet's two claws futilely tried to lift the blade, but its ugly head ultimately fell to the ground alongside its claws.
"Very impressive swordsmanship." Kolgrim's voice drifted over from a distance. The Witcher had likely sensed the Foglet the moment it appeared. Seeing that Arthur was handling it easily, he hadn't immediately rushed over to help.
Arthur shook the dirty blood off his sword and grabbed a clump of dry grass to wipe it clean, smiling: "That's thanks to your excellent teaching."
"I never taught you moves like that." Kolgrim did not accept the flattery: "I am a Witcher; I only know how to fight monsters. The style you were using is for fighting men."
Arthur was speechless for a moment; he hadn't known that swordsmanship was categorized into fighting humans and fighting monsters.
Fortunately, Kolgrim didn't dwell on the issue, instead shifting to a different concern: "This Foglet is here for a very strange reason. Foglets are carrion eaters, and they rarely target live people, especially groups of them."
Arthur pointed to the camp in the distance: "But I was alone when I was attacked."
Kolgrim shook his head: "It's not just that. Foglets usually prefer to ambush others on their own territory, not sneak-attack in an open area—that increases the energy cost of maintaining the dense fog. The one you faced was clearly drawn in by something. What could be so attractive?"
The Witcher crouched down and began carefully examining the Foglet's corpse. But aside from some shreds of meat stuck in its teeth, he found no suspicious clues.
"Do you remember where you first encountered this monster? We need to search the area around that spot. We must figure out what attracted the monster. Otherwise, we'll have a lot of trouble on the road ahead." Kolgrim instructed Arthur.
But Arthur had been entangled with the Foglet for nearly half an hour; how could he remember the exact spot where the attack started?
Just as the two were crouching on the hillside, peering intently inch by inch, Kolgrim suddenly raised his hand and pointed toward the camp:
"Why is the Princess coming over?"
Arthur stood up to look. Adda, wearing a simple, elegant pure-white nightgown, was stepping lightly over the rocks on the hillside, making her way toward them.
She stopped in front of Arthur, rubbing her sleepy eyes, and said: "I smelled meat…"
"There's still some smoked meat in the basket. Go take some and eat…" Arthur dismissed her casually, and then a flash of lightning crossed his mind.
That's right, there's meat in the camp, so why would the Princess need to come all the way here to ask for meat?
Could it be that the monster's instincts have taken over in her sleep, making her crave raw meat?
Arthur hesitated, pointing at the Foglet: "You don't want to eat that, do you?"
Adda shook her head forcefully, her delicate face filled with disdain: "That thing stinks. Not even a dog would eat it."
If it wasn't attracted by the smell of monster flesh, what could it be?
Arthur reached out and ran his hand across the hillside where he had been walking:
"The smell of meat you mentioned, did it come from here?"
Adda sniffed, then suddenly ran toward a cluster of rocks: "Found it!"
She picked something up from the ground, but instantly, the excitement on her face turned into terror. Adda shrieked and threw the object far away, then plunged into Arthur's arms, trembling like a quail.
What was it that scared her like that?
Kolgrim took a piece of cloth from his pouch, carefully wrapped the object, and tucked it into his belt pouch.
"It's safe now," the Witcher briefly announced the crisis over, and motioned for Arthur to take the Princess back to the camp to rest.
"What was it?" Arthur was as curious as if a dozen rats were scratching him simultaneously, but since the Princess had fallen asleep the moment she landed in his arms, he had to ask using barely more than a whisper.
Kolgrim raised his hand and made the gesture for the Axii Sign, indicating they should communicate via telepathic signal.
Kolgrim: [A severed hand. It's probably been here for a day.]
Arthur: [A severed hand? What does that have to do with the Foglet?]
Kolgrim: [Foglets are necrophages. They can smell carrion from several miles away.]
Kolgrim: [Go back. Among necrophages, the Foglet is quite strong. Since it came, no other monsters should approach now.]
Arthur sighed, lifted Adda into his arms, and slowly walked back toward the camp. This hillside looked desolate, but it was surprisingly bustling; only yesterday, someone was here having their hand chopped off. He didn't know if they had encountered bandits or a duel.
He roused Adda and instructed her to climb back into the carriage awning to rest. The Princess rubbed her eyes and mumbled:
"I'm so hungry. I want to eat Gorgon."
"Good girl, go up and sleep. You'll have everything once you're asleep." Arthur patted her head, perfunctorily pushing the Princess back inside.
Though he only had a bedroll to sleep on, he had fought a prolonged battle, and as soon as he lay down, sleepiness washed over him. Before his consciousness completely submerged into the warm bathwater of exhaustion, a final question crossed Arthur's mind:
Gorgon, what is that?
...
"Gorgon, also known as the Armored Ox Beast. Hm, it's a very high-grade delicacy, rarely seen even in the royal court," the Sorceress replied the following morning when he asked Triss about Gorgon.
"Where did you hear about such a luxury? Be careful, that stuff can easily spend a village's entire annual income!"
"And even powerful nobles can go broke if they get addicted to eating it," Triss warned him, half-jokingly, half-seriously, as she magically remote-controlled a frying pan to cook eggs.
"That exaggerated? Have you eaten it?" Arthur admitted he was shocked. Meat that could cause addiction—was it food or something illicit?
Triss tilted her head slightly: "It was served a few times at the King's grand banquets, but I didn't eat it."
"Why?" Arthur couldn't understand. Although Triss could be somewhat naive, her personality was quite straightforward. She wasn't the type of hypocrite who would try to show off her moral superiority by refusing certain foods.
"Ah, mainly because the person who introduced the dish to me at the time described it too disgustingly," Triss said, her willow-leaf eyebrows furrowing together:
"That was a high-ranking noble from Aedirn. He said the thing chews like human flesh. So, that day, I not only avoided the Gorgon, I couldn't eat anything at all."
...............
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