The disobedient were right there beside them—the losers from the previous day. Their blood was in wine jugs, their flesh either on the grill or in the pot.
Geralt saw this scene through the dense canopy, and he understood why that Lord was so adamant about eradicating this evil cult…
He had crouched there for two days; by his count, today was the third.
To be honest, he really didn't want to deal with this. He wanted to draw his sword and chop all these guys down. But he remembered the Lord's words: don't alert the enemy, or those heretics would flee.
Suddenly, there was a disturbance nearby. Geralt sensed it but didn't panic, remaining carefully hidden.
Perhaps it was because one camp had been raided and wiped out, so all these camps had strengthened their defenses, even sending out patrols and scouts.
This was a situation not disclosed in the mission intelligence; however, these small fry did not trouble Geralt, who quickly figured out their patrol routes and times.
