Gunther trudged through the woods, doing his best to not stumble over each and every rock or root poking out of the ground on the rough path. The rest of the griffons in his patrol followed close behind as they slowly pushed forwards.
They would be making their way towards all the villages within a few days of Blackwood to ask them for aid. If they failed, then there was a very good chance that they wouldn't have enough food to get through the winter. That would doom them all to slow starvation.
As he crested the top of the hill, Gunther paused for a minute to catch his breath before they headed back down the other side. One of the more annoying things about wearing armor was the weight of the stuff.
Of course, the simple mail hauberk that Gunther was wearing was not nearly as hefty as the cuirasses worn by the wealthy knights Silas had traveled with. That still didn’t mean it was anything Gunther would be willing to fly with for a long haul. Everything always seemed to weigh more flying than walking on the ground, going on a long flight loaded down was not easy at all. It was nice to be able to flit across streams or other obstacles though. Gunther couldn’t imagine how much harder travelling would be if griffons weren’t born with wings.
After a brief break on the hilltop, it was time to get back to hiking. Gunther called for his soldiers to start following him again as he stood back up. His soldiers. That was a strange thing to be thinking now, wasn’t it? But it wasn’t as though he was wrong to say it. The villagers certainly looked like they were soldiers, with equipment at the top end of what a militia might have.
Every griffon here was wearing some sort of armor to protect them. It was a bit of a mishmash of types, whether they were wearing a thick gambeson, hardened leather, or in one other case aside from Gunther a bit of mail. They all had proper weapons of war with them as well, not any sickles or repurposed farming equipment. Some of the longer polearms were a pain to deal with on the march though, being tied across the back to let them walk on all fours and getting caught on plenty of branches as a result.
They were a good lot to have by your side in a fight as well. While only one of them had any proper training, that didn’t mean that they were all green in a scrap. The villagers of Blackwood had fought off plenty of monsters before, and they had just gotten a harsh refresher on fighting recently. Most of the city griffons could barely hold a spear straight, but there were a few among them that had ventured outside the walls before and had some idea of how to protect themselves.
It was the most impressive fighting force Blackwood could muster in terms of quality. It was the most that they could realistically send beyond the village to help out as well. Gunther was sure that they would be able to give a solid impression of what they were putting on up for offer. And having plenty of fighters around helped to put Gunther’s mind at ease traveling through the woods like this.
At least they were coming up on their first stop right away. In the valley below, the treeline came to an end at the bottom of the hill, being replaced with the familiar sight of fields of crops. And at the top of the next ridgeline, the first village of their tour was waiting patiently for their arrival.
It was a welcome sight to see, and it didn’t look like that much had changed in the many years since Gunther had last laid eyes on this place. As they approached the village, their armed band was the gossip of the day for the villagers working the fields under the blazing sun.
They weren’t going to wander into the village without being invited in of course, that would just be plain rude. Instead, they came to a stop a good distance away from the outer ring of houses, and Gunther waited for someone to come speak with him.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes before a small group of griffons flew out to meet them. As they approached, the tension in the air Gunther had previously been oblivious to faded away the moment recognition dawned on the face of the leading griffon.
“Well, if it isn’t Gunther! I haven’t seen you come out this way in years, what are you doing all the way out here!” The other eldergriff greeted Gunther warmly before looking him over. “How are things back at Blackwood? Usually, we only get to talk when we bump into each other at harvest time. Must be going well though, since you’ve started wearing nice mail like that now.”
“You’ve got that right, Jonas. We’ve had a good year so far. Even the bandits couldn’t do much to us when they turned up, and we gave them a fight. They had plenty of gear for us to take afterwards as well,” Gunther replied proudly while tugging at his hauberk for emphasis.
“Glad to hear that you lot are still going strong then, Gunther. Blackwood is lucky to have you leading them.” The other eldergriff clapped him on the shoulder.
“Well, I technically ain’t the one leading the place anymore. Since the battle, we’ve got a new lord living among us now. Blackwood is officially his fief, and I watched Lord Silas knight him myself.”
Jonas nodded seriously after hearing the news, and his jovial attitude quickly became much more reserved. “I see. I’ll bet that you’ve got a long story to tell then, and I’d like to hear it. Come on in, let's get you settled.”
Gunther dutifully followed his old friend back to his home. While the two of them entered the building, the rest of the militia settled themselves outside to give the two eldergriffs time to talk with each other in private.
As they settled down into two wooden chairs, Jonas resumed their earlier conversation. “So, there’s a new lord here in the south now. One whose settled into Blackwood, and the first that I’m hearing about it is when they send a band of soldiers out to my village. I hope you haven’t gone and stuck yourself with an arrogant little lordling there Gunther.”
Gunther shook his head. “Our new lord is a good kid in my eyes, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s earned his place in Blackwood. I don't worry about how he'll act. As for the soldiers? Trust me, we’ve got no interest in sticking our talons where they don’t belong. We've got a good reason for coming out here like this.”
“We?” Jonas questioned.
“You’re looking at the official steward of Blackwood now. I can still speak for the village,” Gunther answered proudly. “Our goal right now is to try and build up Blackwood into a proper town for ourselves, not go and squirm into your home.”
The other eldergriff grunted in acknowledgement. "That still doesn't answer the question of what you're doing out here away from home. If you're working on yourselves at the moment as you say, then I don't see what we have to do with it."
“Well, as part of growing Blackwood, our new lord wanted to get some more griffons to move to the village. Worked out a little too well for us, and with all the griffons that have started to flock to Blackwood we’re short on houses and food for them all. Lord Geralt is working on the houses right now, and that leaves solving the food to me.” Gunther shifted in his chaise as he thought about how he was going to word the next bit.
“We’ve done some thinking, and we won’t be able to grow enough ourselves to get through the winter this year. And that's even if we hunt and forage as much as we can. Next year we can clear some more fields to help offset that, but we need to survive this winter first. So we need to ask around to see if we can trade for some of your harvest to keep us from starving. That’s why I’m here,” Gunther admitted.
Jonas slumped back in the chair as he digested Gunther’s words. “That’s not good to hear, old friend. I can understand where you’re coming from, but at the same time that doesn’t sound much like leaving us alone. A lord coming and demanding our harvest? That sounds to me more like vassalage.”
Gunther quickly interrupted before Jonas had a chance to settle into the idea. “No, it’s nothing like that. I said that we were going to trade for your crops, not just show up and beg. We’re not asking for something in exchange for nothing.”
“Then what is it you’ve got to offer for us, Gunther? I want to help you, but you and I both know what the food’s worth, especially in a big city like Griffenheim. I need to think of what's best for my village first.” Jonas sat back up straight and looked at Gunther expectantly.
“Well, we haven’t turned up looking fierce for no good reason. Besides keeping us safe on the trip, that’s something that I can promise you right away. We both know how long it can take for help to arrive in force now that Eyrinholm is gone, and we have to wait on Griffenheim, for all Silas tries. If something dangerous turns up that is more than your village could take, wouldn’t you prefer it if you knew that help was only a few days away? Faster even, if we flew light without any packs. And that’s just the start of it,” Gunther began.
The next bit was a little more of a promise, but Gunther knew a farmer would see value in it. "Lord Geralt, well he’s a clever young lad. Right now he’s got a set of drawings for a new watermill that’s going to be in our river soon. If you can help us through the winter, we can give you milling rights there once it's built.”
Jonas nodded along with Gunther pitch before raising some questions. “It’s nice to hear that you’re getting a mill in Blackwood, but I don’t why we would bother to haul our grains over to Blackwood for milling it when we’ve got a millstone here? It might not be as fancy as the new water mill but taking a few days out of our way to mill the grain before heading up north to sell it in the city doesn’t seem worth the extra trouble for all it'd save our backs from the hard work.”
Gunther had an answer ready and waiting for that one though. “Well, maybe for the grain you’re keeping home for yourself it wouldn’t be worth it. At least not without a proper road connecting us. But as Blackwood starts shooting up like a weed, we’re going to have a decent market of our own right in Blackwood. No need to go all the way to Griffenheim anymore to sell. Just like how it used to be with Eyrinholm, Griffenheim is quite a way away after all by cart.”
“I suppose that’s true enough,” the eldergriff conceded. “Of course, that all depends on whether your new lord can pull through with this plan of theirs in the coming while. And I hate to say it, but I’m not particularly excited to promise away a year of profits to some upstart I’ve never met myself.”
Gunther sighed, “I can understand that. We can organize a meeting between Geralt and you along with whoever else I talk into attending later, but is there anything that I can do right to get you to sign on?”
Out of all the village heads, Jonas was the one that Gunther knew best. He knew that some hesitancy was guaranteed, but Gunther had hoped that Jonas would have signed on already as a favor to a friend. The fact that he had not done so was a bitter tonic to swallow, and a bad sign for the rest of the villages he would speak to.
“There is one thing you could help with if you really wanted to,” Jonas said slowly, causing Gunther to snap back to attention. “It’s something that’s beyond what I’m willing to risk dealing with my griffons. But your group should have no troubles dealing with it as long as you think it through and keep your head on a swivel.”
“And that is?” Gunther pressed.
“A few days ago, one of the griffons from my village was out fishing in the woods. It was all going well for them, but that was until a wyvern showed up. The beast came in and swooped down at him. They scrambled away, and the wyvern went after the bucket full of trout instead. It flew off back to its nest after that and took the bucket with it.” The eldergriff sighed loudly in annoyance before continuing.
“Having a dangerous monster like that come down near the village is trouble enough on its own, but the griffon this happened to? Well, they’re probably top of the list of most annoying griffons in the village. Ever since the attack, all they have done is complain endlessly about losing their bucket, and we are all getting properly sick of it,” Jonas explained.
“And that’s where you come in. If you can deal with the wyvern and get that bucket back, well that’d be a big favor to me and would give us all some peace of mind. And some silence too.”
Gunther blinked as he tried to understand what he’d just heard. “You… want us to go kill a wyvern, in order to get back a bucket it stole?”
Jonas nodded sheepishly. “Basically, yes. You do this though, and I’ll agree to give you a portion of this year’s harvest.”
“I can understand the need to deal with the wyvern, that’s for sure, But the bucket? No promises there.” Just how annoying was this griffon that Jonas stuck the bucket on as a stipulation to shut them up? And why had they not already dumped them in the woods if that was the case?
Gunther was in no place to turn down a chance to secure some grain though, and he wound up agreeing to Jonas’ request. And that was after Jonas insisted that the bucket be returned after the wyvern was dead as well.
It was an odd arrangement, but if it could end up with them getting the grain they desperately needed Gunther felt that they had to give it a try.
“So let me get this straight. We're going into the woods to go fight a wyvern. A lizard that can grow bigger than a wagon. It’s got claws and fangs, and it’s an angry mass of muscle and arrogance that can kill a griffon with ease. And the grand prize that we are after it for? A bucket. I got all that right?” The skeptical griffon asked Gunther after he informed the rest of the soldiers what they were about to do.
“That’s the idea alright,” Gunther answered tiredly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine out there. I’ve already asked around, and we know where the monster’s got its nest set up. We’ll get the drop on it and make it a quick and easy fight. Besides, we’ve fought plenty of smaller monsters before and are still here. This won’t be that much different, just be smart and be careful and we'll make it through alright.”
“I still don’t like the sound of this,” the other griffon grunted out. They dutifully pushed themselves off their rest and grabbed their billhook though.
The army of Blackwood marched out of the village, passed the crop fields, and disappeared into the forest once more. Following the directions passed on to Gunther by the one who had initially tracked the wyvern down, they advanced through the forest. As the afternoon dragged on, they eventually spotted the cliff face that the monster was supposed to have its nest on. With any luck, they would be able to ambush there tonight once the sun set.
As they moved through the woods towards the cliff face, the idle chatter of the griffons died off as they crept closer to the reported nest. Moving through unknown terrain while something deadly could show up unannounced any moment was fraying at Gunther’s nerves and he found himself constantly checking the sky for movement. As if a wyvern was going to somehow sneak up on them. He wondered how Cyril and the other hunters back at the village were able to deal with the stress of being alone in the woods for days on end.
They were soon able to spot the nest of the target near the top of sharp crags that covered the hill. The mess of branches and sticks piled on the stone looked mighty uncomfortable to Gunther, but he supposed that when you were covered head to tail in thick scales you didn’t mind the rough bark rubbing against you as much.
“Get down!” One of the other griffons suddenly hissed, and the whole party threw themselves to the ground.
There was the sound of heavy wingbeats overhead, and a massive shadow passed over where they were trying to hide in the undergrowth. Daring to raise his head back up to judge the situation, Gunther watched the wyvern slowly descend towards its nest before landing with a loud thud.
The beast was a brilliant blue color, and its body was nearly free of the scars and battle damage that he knew older monsters always bore after a life of fighting. A younger one then, a good sign to see. That meant that hopefully they wouldn’t have to deal with a mate or hatchlings in the nest complicating things.
The hidden griffons watched in tense silence as the beast paced in circles around its nest, adjusting branches as it saw fit. After it was satisfied with the integrity of its home, the wyvern stuck its snout down into the middle of the nest, re-emerging a few moments later with something dangling from its jaws. It was the bucket!
Gunther and the rest of the militia watched from their position as the wyvern pranced playfully around its nest with their objective between its teeth, tossing the wooden container about happily. From where he was sitting, the wyvern was almost like a gigantic murderous cat to him.
The endearing activity did not last for long though, and the wyvern stopped frolicking with a sudden freeze. It let the bucket clatter back down into the nest as the monster reared up to its full height, wings flared out to the side in a display of dominance.
The brush exploded in a flurry of movement as every griffon there realized that they had been spotted and there was nothing to be gained staying still any longer. The wyvern for its part let out an ear-splitting shriek as it dove from its perch towards them. All hope of an ambush had disappeared, and now they had to confront the beast head on.
Everyone leapt to the sides as the wyvern came screaming into the woods. In open air, the monster certainly would have been faster than them, but as it entered the dense woods, the griffons were able to exercise their advantage in agility over the brute.
The trees prevented the monster from flying about as it wished, and there were showers of pine needles and twigs as its wings crashed through the woods in unstable flight after the griffons who weaved out of the way. This lasted only for a few moments before the wyvern realized that it would be better off running on the ground to chase the irritating small things that had tried to sneak up on it.
The battlefield quickly devolved into chaos. There was no point in trying to fight in a tight formation here, and each griffon acted on their own to strike or flee when they could. Gunther for his part flew around towards the back of the creature to search for an opening.
While the massive lashing tail was a danger in its own right, as far as Gunther was concerned it was better than being in the beast’s sight and in front of the daggerlike fangs. Speaking of being in the wyvern’s line of sight, Gunther felt obliged to shout towards the rest of the griffons.
“If it starts coming after you, just run for it! Only attack it when it doesn't know your coming, it’s too risky to fight it head on!” Gunther bellowed, as he closed in to try and land a blow himself.
Gunther was barely able to duck under the tail on his approach. He felt the gust of wind blow through his feathers caused by the force of the swinging scaled appendage. Trying to shake off how that rattled him, Gunther jabbed his spear into a joint in the wyvern’s leg.
This caused the monster’s leg to buckle momentarily as it howled in pain. Before Gunther could back away, the wyvern kicked backwards blindly at him. Gunther raised his forelegs just in time to block the claws from tearing open his head. Instead the blow sent Gunther flying backwards out from under the monster.
Gunther scrambled upright the moment he could. After a quick check to see that there was no blue mass bearing down on him in the next few seconds, he gave himself a quick once-over. Despite the pain that he felt, it didn’t seem that he had any bad wounds. The armor had done its job. Mail stopped the talons, and the gambeson cushioned the blow.
Unfortunately, his spear had disappeared somewhere between him stabbing the wyvern and standing up over here. Gunther had no time to waste worrying about that though. The wyvern had spotted him standing there and saw an easy target on the ground.
Gunther was already back in the air dodging through the fir trees by the time the wyvern had closed the distance. The monster snapped its jaws shut on thin air as it crashed through a few spindly trees in a furious pursuit. The wyvern seemed to be desperately trying to kill at least one of the griffons. Its focus was a mistake on its part though.
In its rage it had forgotten that Gunther wasn’t fighting alone. His chase gave the others the chance they needed to land a crippling blow. And they did not disappoint.
One of the other griffons dove in from above and brought their axe down into the beasts tail with tremendous force. Gunther spear might have been excellent for jabbing at joints and other weak points, but the axe tore through flesh and bone with ease.
The tail was cut in half, falling to the ground with a spray of blood. The wyvern squealed in pain and shock. It tripped and fell to the ground a few steps later, its balance lost.
Seeing a chance, the griffons charged into to hack away at the monster before it could recover. Except for Gunther, who was searching the broken forest for his lost boar spear. Spotting a glint of metal in the flattened brush, Gunther yanked the crushed grass aside to reveal his spear lying underneath.
As soon as he picked it up and flew back to the fight, he heard the monster roar loudly. This was followed by a griffon crying out.
“Get back!”
Evidently the wyvern had had enough of the fight, and its will to live had overcome its pride as a powerful monster. As Gunther flew towards the clearing, he spotted the wyvern spreading its tattered wings wide. Off to the side of the battlespace, Gunther spotted two of his soldiers helping another to their paws. The broken branches made it clear to him that they had been brutally tossed against the tree.
Giving one last roar to scare them off from following it, the wyvern began a messy takeoff. With both its tail severed, and wings shredded, its flight was slow and unsteady. The militia tensed themselves for another round of combat. Gunther was first to voice what they were all thinking.
“Damn it! Don’t let it get away after all that!”
If the wyvern managed to escape after everything that had put it through, it was certain to come back for revenge after a few months spent licking its wounds. As far as Gunther knew, wyverns weren’t the kind of creature that’d let a grudge go. It’d return and start to pick off the villagers who wandered just a little too far from home, or attack the village directly if it was mad enough. If they lost track of it here today, it could disappear back up the mountains out of reach and there would be nothing anyone could do.
There wasn’t a chance in the world Gunther was going to let that happen. At least not without him doing his absolute best to finish the job. As the monster towards him, Gunther flew up to intercept its retreat.
Gunther was in much better shape than the monster was in at this point, and he was soon able to soar above the wounded wyvern. Taking a moment to brace himself, Gunther dove down and landed on the wounded back of the beast.
Raising up his spear, Gunther stabbed into the base of the wyvern’s wing. Again and again, Gunther dug deeper in the flesh of the joint. Eventually, as the two of them passed over the monster’s nest, Gunther finally managed strike deep enough to hit something important.
The wing he had struck fell limp, causing the wyvern let out a terrified shriek as it started to fall out of the sky. Gunther leap back off the doomed wyvern, dodging past the stump of a tail before coming to a hover. The wyvern crashed straight into the jagged cliff face.
Stones fractured and splintered as the monster tumbled down the steep cliff like a sack of potatoes. Behind it, the force of the impact meant that the cliff face itself collapsed around the impact. At the bottom of the cliff, the body of the wyvern was crushed to a pulp under the weight of the rock that followed after it.
After watching the gruesome display, Gunther felt the exhaustion of the fight hit him as the intensity of the battle faded away. He landed down on the forest floor, panting heavily.
Gunther was soon joined by his militia, though a quite few winced as they gingerly touched at parts of their bodies. One of the uninjured soldiers stepped up next to Gunther and swept a surveying gaze over the pile of fallen rock before speaking.
“Can’t even recover the body anymore. Shame, the hide would’ve been worth a lot.”
“I’m just glad we got through this all without anyone dying. We got real lucky today,” Gunther replied before sighing. “We should just go and start looking for the bucket. Doubt we’ll even find it after the nest fell apart like that, but that’s the whole reason we even came out here. May as well try and see it through.”
The griffons around him all groaned, but Gunther was right. They started carefully clambering over the stone, prodding at any part of the mess that contained a chunk of the nest. For a while it seemed like they would be coming back empty-clawed, but then they all heard a cry from the top of the mound.
“I’ve found it!”
Gunther looked over to where a young griffon was raising the damned bucket high over their head with pride. The thing didn’t look like it was anything special. Just an ordinary wooden bucket. Once again, Gunther wondered what the point of the stubborn insistence on the bucket in the first place.
The lad noticed the weary gazes that his comrades were giving him, and he flushed pink in embarrassment. He slowly flew down from the top of the pile of stone to pass the bucket off to Gunther.
As Gunther rubbed the bucket in his talons, he looked around the faces of the griffons around him. Despite the damage felt by the surrounding woods, no one had actually been caught by the wyvern and torn to shreds.
The worst injuries that Gunther could see where from being whipped by the tail or wings. The armor padding came in handy there, dampening a blow from caving in your chest to cracking a few ribs at most. These were alongside plenty of cuts and splinters from the wood. Gunther knew from his own kick that they would all be feeling their wounds in the morning, but they had gotten away pretty darn well for what they were up against.
Gunther had spent enough time out in the woods for today though, and he was looking forwards to sleeping under a roof tonight.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Gunther sighed. No one disagreed.
When they returned to the village, Gunther was quick to toss the damnable bucket into the claws of the one who had it stolen from them in the first place. He then shoved the griffon to the side, ignoring the squawks of indignation from them. Gunther marched on towards the village eldergriff’s house.
Throwing open the door with more force than he had intended too, Gunther paused to take a deep breath while Jonas’ head shot up. After he had taken a moment to steady himself, Gunther stomped over to speak with his friend.
“It’s done,” Gunther gruffly stated.
Jonas just sat there and blinked at Gunther, seemingly stunned by Gunther’s sour mood. Once he had recovered from the sour attitude, he rose from the leatherworking bench before speaking.
“Right, that’s good to hear. I hope it wasn’t too much a hassle.”
That was the last thing Gunther wanted to hear come out of Jonas’ beak. “You know damn well it was a hassle! It was a wyvern for crying out loud! We were lucky enough to get out without having to drag anyone back. We got the precious bucket back too, for whatever that’s worth.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I made it seem like you had to do this,” the eldergriff sheepishly replied. “This was something that I needed to deal with at some point though. Honestly when I saw your band of warriors, I saw an easy solution. Especially when you came looking to take away part of our harvest.”
”Then you better not have gone and forgotten what we talked about earlier,” Gunther growled at him. The other eldergriff raised his claws in the air disarmingly.
“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry about that. And I’ve gone and given some more thought to this whole thing,” Jonas replied. “Originally, we were going to go and pay some professional monster hunter to go and take care of this for us. But you know how much the bounty hunters’ guild would’ve wanted for something like that, and you’ve helped save us a lot of coin, Gunther. And I suppose some of that should go to you.”
Oh, Gunther had become keenly aware of just how much fighting for a living could be worth. Assuming you were able to continue on with the living part, of course. The pouch of silver that Geralt had shown him in Griffenheim was enough for Gunther to understand the appeal of bounty work.
“I’ve already promised you a portion of what we’re gonna have this year, that’s been set in stone. We haven’t covered the details of that though yet, and I'll be as generous as I can. On account of what I put you through for us, that is,” Jonas explained.
Gunther felt his shoulder sag in relief. “I’m grateful for that. It’s a weight off my back for sure. And I'm sorry about barging in here as I did.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jonas said. “Doubt that we’ll be giving you enough to feed everyone from what you’ve told me though.”
“Yeah, you’ve got that right.” Gunther stretched out in his chair. “This is only my first stop. Got to leave in the morning and head off to try and win over the next village. Hell, if we can get enough claws in the pot, we might not even end up needing too much from you anyways.”
“If you need another voice at the table to convince them, well you can count on me. I can’t speak for your lord ‘til I’ve met them myself, but I know you well enough for that, Gunther,” Jonas added on. “You just bring them to the table in the first place.”
“Yeah, that’s the hard part alright. Bad enough I have to get them all in one place, and then I need to get them all to agree?” Gunther shook his head in dismay. “Now there’s trouble waiting to happen.”
As he sat there, an idea suddenly popped into Gunther’s mind. Maybe there was a way to get the village heads all together without worrying as much about the squabbling and making it seem less like a summons from a noble.
“What about the midsummer festival?” Gunther asked.
Jonas looked at him funny. “What about it? It’s coming soon enough, yeah. It'll be a fun celebration, but I don't see why you brought it up.”
“No, I just had an idea. If I invite them all to talk it over when Blackwood decides to hold the festival, well then now I got an excuse to invite them together. It’ll make it a much nicer time to talk about giving up their harvests. At least for the ones I can’t convince on the spot like you. Which we both know will be probably all of them,” Gunther explained.
Jonas nodded in careful agreement. “Probably. And I’ll be there for the festival in Blackwood too then. If you already have someone who agreed, it takes away the danger of being the first one and makes it easier to follow. Kind of like herding sheep.”
“It’ll be nice having you there. Don’t use the sheep thing when talking with the others though. They might not like being compared with farm animals like that.” Gunther added on as the two of them spoke throughout the rest of the evening.
The slightly worse for wear looking soldiers of Blackwood left the village the following morning, waving goodbyes to their hosts. As they headed back into the woods, Gunther hoped that the business of monster fighting done for the time being, and the rest of their stops wouldn’t see them fighting for their lives for something far too worthless.
Unfortunately for him, fate decided not to smile on Gunther this time.
Gunther and the two other griffons who had been brave enough to delve into the den of the wolf spiders emerged back into the sunlight. Picking off angrily biting spiderlings while pushing through webs, he was mostly just grateful none of the grown ones had stayed behind in the nest.
Now that they were out of the nest, Gunther gave a nod to the griffons waiting outside. They tossed lit torches into the tiny cave, which hopefully would turn the remaining spiderlings and eggs to ash.
In the woods just outside of the nest, there was a pile of smashed hairy spiders the size of dogs. Gunther didn’t know how it worked exactly himself, but wolf spider nests would attack anything that moved along the ground outside their nests.
Fortunately for those hunting the spiders who didn’t actually care about having intact corpses to harvest valuable silk from, that meant killing them was probably the easiest out of everything they had fought recently. Dropping a dead rabbit to get the swarm to charge out mindlessly, then dropping rocks on them to smash them to pieces worked wonders.
“You’ve got it still?” Gunther asked the griffon next to him once they were away from the spider splatters. The other griffon raised the pan up in confirmation, bits of web and spider egg still stuck to it the metal.
“Honestly, a griffon gets eaten and they want us to get the pan back. I know we’ve all gotten used to death out here, but they could at least have made killing the spiders back the main thing,” Gunther muttered.
Fighting monsters to reclaim cookery, collecting herbs, protecting griffons while they checked something in the woods. Every village they came across had some little thing they wanted Gunther and his patrol to do. And when it was done, they weren’t even willing to agree to the harvest deal anyways.
Instead, insisted that they had to meet with Lord Geralt before giving their word. They hadn’t turned him down after he came through on their errands though, which Gunther supposed had to be good enough.
The pride they had on getting by themselves out here was not going to be something most were willing to get past in a day, even with the promises Gunther made to them. It went against the spirit of the southern countryside, where each little village could fend for themselves, and only got involved each other for deals when both sides were strong and ready for an immediate exchange.
Privately, Gunther worried that Geralt had not really grasped that long-term commitments between villages or towns weren’t much of a thing down here. If the other eldergriffs felt that Geralt was starting to overstep his bound and tie them all together or push his title too hard, it would rub their feathers the wrong way.
These were the thoughts running through Gunther’s mind as he sat there losing focus on what the eldergriff sat across from him was going on about now that they had brought the pan back. He had heard the same thing so many times, and his mind had wandered back to Blackwood.
At least this was the last village they were visiting. After everything that had happened, Gunther was looking forwards to going home and properly resting.
None of the griffons who had set out from Blackwood had suffered any bad wounds on the trip, despite the efforts of everything they found themselves against. The damage to their gear and the light injuries had begun piling up however.
At first, they had looked like shiny professionals, with polished steel and clean armor. At this point though, that image was mostly gone. This last village had actually barricaded themselves up ready to fight after they spotted their group marching towards them. They had thought they were bandits from their ragged look before Gunther got it all straightened out.
Yes, they all needed some time to rest and recover. It was time to head back to Blackwood, with their quest having been moderately successful.
After two full days of tired marching, the mood turned to weary smiles as those from the old village started to recognize the woods around them. It was only a little while longer before they finally spotted the end of their journey.
Coming up on the village though, they noticed that their home had gone through a bit of its own journey while they were gone. When they had set off, work had only just begun on the new houses.
But now, Gunther and the others stared in amazement at the amount of progress made in such a short while. Where there was just light forest when they left, now they could see a pair of freshly built houses with nice slate roofs on them sitting comfortably. And beside those two, there were even more that didn’t look to be far off from being done themselves.
It was staggering work to say the least, and the murmurs behind Gunther told him that the others were just as impressed as he was at the sight. Gunther had to admit, he had felt it was going to take a lot longer to see the signs of Blackwood growing beyond being a large village into a powerful town in its own right.
But standing here on this hill seeing all the new griffons and now all the new houses? Well, it felt as though the farming village that Gunther had known for his whole life was going to have faded away entirely by the time winter finally got here.
Gunther hoped that they would be able to work their way through what was coming. It was going to be an exciting time for them all, and this old bird hoped he would be able to keep up. Gunther wondered if maybe he should give the math classes a try. If they kept growing, he wouldn’t be able to keep track of the village in his head anymore. And Gunther was in no hurry to step down as steward because of that.
As the tiny army approached the village, making their way through the fields of grain that reached up high towards the summer sky, two griffons flew down to greet them. Once they were close enough to see who it was, Gunther smiled. At least not everything was going to change, and he could still rely on a warm welcome when he came home.
Whereas Lord Geralt settled down on the ground in front of them to greet them formally, Cynthia had no such reservations. Instead, she tackled Gunther into a fierce hug, which he quickly returned.
After everything he had put up with recently, it was good to be home.