Ranwen's Witcher - Background: Das kleinere Übel 6

Renfri und Geralt kommen jedenfalls erst mal auf keinen grünen Zweig, wer nun wen (nicht) umbringt, aber sie haben mal drüber geredet.

Später, als der Witcher schlafen gehen will...

There was someone in his little attic room. Geralt knew it before he even reached the door, sensing it through the barely perceptible vibration of his medallion. He blew out the oil lamp which had lit his path up the stairs, pulled the dagger from his boot, slipped it into the back of his belt and pressed the door handle. The room was dark. But not for a witcher.

Ja, genetisch verbessert und überhaupt. Wir wissen's. Aber wie - ein vibrierendes Medaillon, was als Alarmanlage funktioniert? Kein mutierter Extrasinn dafür? Wie unspannend.

Und einen Dolch steckt man auch nicht so in den Gürtel, Mann. ;)
Allerdings, immerhin war's nicht vorne. Ein bißchen Verstand hat er ja doch.

Geralt schleicht sich also ein, nimmt Anlauf und stürzt sich auf den vermeintlichen Assassinen in seinem Bettchen. Die Assassine (guess), die ja zwar eine ist, aber tatsächlich eher zum Reden (!) hergekommen ist und nicht beruflich hinter ihm her ist, kommentiert:

"Nicht schlecht. Ich hab mir schon gedacht, daß wir irgendwann im Bett landen, aber so schnell hätt ich's nicht erwartet. Jetzt nimm bitte dein Besteck von meinem Hals weg, und dann hast du zwei Möglichkeiten: mach das Licht an, setz dich und rede mit mir, oder aber bleib da, wo du bist, und laß mich wenigstens die Stiefel ausziehen."

Geralt: Hrmpf. Du bist das. :ugly:

Was hast du denn gedacht, Schlaufuchs? Und hier erklärt sich wohl auch, warum der Witcher mittlerweile so eine Erfahrung darin aufgebaut hat, Alkohol für irgendwelche privaten Partys zu besorgen - er hat gelernt:

'Have you got anything to drink here?'

'No.'

'Then it's a good thing I brought something,' she laughed, placing a travelling wine-skin and two leather tumblers on the table.

Und kannst du mir jetzt verraten, warum du hier durchs Fenster reingeklettert bist?
Na, zum Reden, du Dummbatz.

'You're slow-witted, witcher. I want to save Blaviken from slaughter. I crawled over the rooftops like a she-cat in March in order to talk to you about it. Appreciate it.'

'I do,' said Geralt. 'Except that I don't know what talk can achieve. The situation's clear. Stregobor is in his tower, and you'd have to lay siege to it in order to get to him. If you do that, your letter of safe-conduct won't help you. Audoen won't defend you if you openly break the law. The alderman, guards, the whole of Blaviken will stand against you.'

'The whole of Blaviken would regret standing up to me.' Renfri smiled, revealing a predator's white teeth. 'Did you take a look at my boys? They know their trade, I assure you. Can you imagine what would happen in a fight between them and those dimwit guards who keep tripping over their own halberds?'

'Do you imagine I would stand by and watch a fight like that? I'm staying at the alderman's, as you can see. If the need arises, I should stand at his side.'

'I have no doubt,' Renfri grew serious, 'that you will. But you'll probably be alone as the rest will cower in the cellars. No warrior in the world could match seven swordsmen. So, white-hair, let's stop threatening each other. As I said: slaughter and bloodshed can be avoided. There are two people who can prevent it.'

'I'm all ears.'

(Wie, "no warrior in the world could match seven swordsmen"? Ahahaha. Da hat jemand nun wirklich keine Jackie-Chan-Filme und dergleichen gesehen. Und Chuck Norris erst recht nicht. :ugly:)

Sie nennt Stregobor als den ersten und meint, wenn er sich freiwillig umbringen ließe, hätte das Dorf bald wieder seine Ruhe. Tja, aber das ist - unwahrscheinlich.

'Stregobor may seem crazy, but he's not that crazy.'

'Who knows, witcher, who knows. Some arguments can't be denied, like the Tridam ultimatum. I plan to present it to the sorcerer.'

'What is it, this ultimatum?'

'That's my sweet secret.'

'As you wish. But I doubt it'll be effective. Stregobor's teeth chatter when he speaks of you. An ultimatum which would persuade him to voluntarily surrender himself into your beautiful hands would have to be pretty good. So who's the other person? Let me guess.'

'I wonder how sharp you are, white-hair.'

'It's you, Renfri. You'll reveal a truly princely— what am I saying, royal magnanimity and renounce your revenge. Have I guessed?'

Renfri threw back her head and laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Then she grew silent and fixed her shining eyes on the witcher.

'Geralt,' she said, 'I used to be a princess. I had everything 1 could dream of. Servants at my beck and call, dresses, shoes. Cambric knickers. Jewels and trinkets, ponies, goldfish in a pond. Dolls, and a doll's house bigger than this room. That was my life until Stregobor and that whore Aridea ordered a huntsman to butcher me in the forest and bring back my heart and liver. Lovely, don't you think?'

'No. I'm pleased you evaded the huntsman, Renfri.'

'Like shit I did. He took pity on me and let me go. After the son-of-a-bitch raped me and robbed me.'

Geralt, fiddling with his medallion, looked her straight in the eyes. She didn't lower hers.

Na super. Jetzt kommt natürlich ihre ganze traurige Lebensgeschichte. Seit der prinzeßlichen batistenen Unterwäsche.

And through it all my stepmother and your sorcerer were hard on my heels, with their poisons and assassins and spells. And you want me to reveal my magnanimity? To forgive him, royally? I'll tear his head off, royally, first.'

'Aridea and Stregobor tried to poison you?'

'With an apple seasoned with nightshade. I was saved by a gnome, and an emetic I thought would turn my insides out. But I survived.'

Tja, so einfach wäre es gewesen, Schneewittchen. Ein simples Brechmittel.