Bear School Astartes

Ciri lowered her small head of mouse-gray hair, struggling to control her horse as she neared Dandelion.

”I’m sorry, Dandelion.”

She said.

”I shouldn’t have snapped at you just now. Because at least you tried your best to help, while I could only watch from behind.”

”That girl... Her whole family were subjects of Sintra. They cleared the woodland here, paid taxes on time, and lived honestly. I believe I am responsible for them.”

”Ah, just a deposed princess who self-righteously thinks she bears responsibility... It’s funny, before the invasion of Sintra by the black-armored army, I never even thought about them living in my country.”

As she spoke, Ciri’s voice choked up.

Geralt, who was leading the way on horseback, slightly turned his head back.

And Dandelion, the flamboyantly dressed poet, used his gentle voice as if soothing a child, gently patting Ciri’s shoulder.

”Don’t say anymore. I don’t mind, child.”

”No.” Ciri shook her head with tears.

”That girl should be thanking you. I just feel that Sintra, my grandmother, and I didn’t protect her. It’s my debt to her, she shouldn’t thank me. That’s why this guilt made me snap at you, the people I’m closest to right now.”

”It’s my fault.”

Dandelion pulled Ciri from her horse to sit in front of him: ”Alright, don’t say anymore, don’t say anymore...”

Gradually, Ciri’s sobbing subsided, and Geralt’s face, which had been slightly turned backward, also turned back to the front.

”Now it seems you’re really a good friend.”

Lann, who had somehow appeared beside Dandelion’s horse, said.

This drew a surprised courteous response from the poet.

”My respects to you, the famed Hunting Marquis. I’m Julian Alfred Pancratz, but friends call me Dandelion.”

Such flamboyance would be annoying in anyone else, but Dandelion... he always had this ability to not make it annoying.

”Uh... do you really have to be so formal? I thought we were not fleeing for our lives, but attending a noble’s banquet.”

Ged muttered a complaint from behind.

”Of course, if you like it this way, I don’t mind communicating in this manner either.”

Lann said with a smile, making a standard courtly gesture in sync with his horse’s gait.

Dandelion swore he would never see such a perfect and elegant gesture in his life again.

”Your manners are impressive.”

...Although being able to run as fast as a horse is impressive by itself.

”In this chaotic and broken world, seeing politeness and etiquette representing order honestly gives me a bit of solace.”

”Ha, I think it’s Lann’s physique and his sword that make you feel safe, Dandelion.”

When with Dandelion, Geralt seemed to automatically speak more than a few well-aimed sarcastic remarks.

With his intriguingly composed face, it at least improved Lann’s mood somewhat tonight.

”Alright, so we all know each other. But I still have a question...”

Lann said to them.

”Where are you taking so many horses? For what purpose?”

If it’s for food, then taking apart the edible meat from two horses and packing it would last a long time.

Yet Geralt and others cleared their traces as they left, and they even gathered twenty horses before going.

”If you’re fleeing, I wouldn’t suggest taking so many animals, it makes for too big a target.”

Lann said calmly.

But before the leading Geralt could answer him, Dandelion spoke up.

”We’re fleeing, but Lann... with just a few people, we can’t escape this calamity.”

The poet’s face was adorned with a bitter smile as if he’d eaten bitter herbs.

”Simply put, we’ve joined a refugee group. We’ve survived until now by supporting each other, and for the foreseeable future, we’ll continue to rely on the group’s strength to survive.”

Things in the world are always so contradictory.

Generally, in the face of great disasters, human nature collapses, moral and legal standards crumble, and humans become threats to one another.

Logically, one should reduce involvement with others, operate independently, and rely on oneself.

But undoubtedly... this is merely the delusion of foolish people.

Humans are social creatures; long-term isolation without interactions under high-pressure environments is against human nature and could even lead to suicidal behavior.

Moreover, there’s no question: there’s strength in numbers.

The things a single person can accomplish are very limited, so is their ability to face risks. But with more people, many things that couldn’t be done alone become doable, and the ability to survive greatly improves.

War is like a vortex tearing everything apart: Niflgaard’s army, the remnants of Sintra’s army, opportunistic bandits, and other nations’ forces standing on guard at the borders...

These complex forces have fragmented Sintra’s territory into tiny pieces.

Anyone trying to move from one ’piece’ to another must be prepared to lose their skin.

Solo action can get a person across two or three ’pieces’ at best, and surviving that is almost akin to being near death, granted that’s in the best-case scenario.

And the closer you get to the edges of Sintra, the higher the vigilance and brutality from the Niflgaard people and other countries’ forces.

The place is nearly turned into barren land.

Lann came in from outside quite easily partly because his Alchemy Pouch allowed him to carry supplies without worrying about restocking along the way.

And partly because his physical abilities are clearly beyond normal humans’, allowing him to traverse paths that normally wouldn’t even be called ’roads.’

But if he brought even a single ordinary person with him, Lann would have to re-plan his route and would most likely encounter these chaotic armed forces.

”But if it’s a refugee group... your target is also going to be large, right? It will draw attention from the Niflgaard people.”

Lann astutely identified the contradiction.

To stay alive, one must pull people in for cooperation. But having too many people would, in turn, catch the attention of the Niflgaard people.

”We don’t have the time to think that far ahead.”

Dandelion shook his head.

”First, we have to ensure we survive today, don’t we?”

This simple statement is quite logical.

In a place where living until tomorrow depends on luck, contemplating the ’future’ and ’possibilities’ is only a waste of mental effort.

”One last question: since it’s a refugee group, there ought to be a leader.”

”His name is Hacksaw.” Geralt spoke before Dandelion, as if to emphasize this point to Lann.

”He was originally the Palace Director of Sintra, and his son was a knight of Sintra. Sounds pretty normal, right?”

”But I always feel his gaze on Ciri isn’t quite right, so even when we go out to gather supplies, we don’t leave Ciri in the camp.”