Chapter 95: Pigs Pigs Pigs

Unfortunately, the journey did not go well.

I suppose, looking back, that I was grieving but at the same time that does not colour the first days of that journey any differently. For whatever reason I really struggled to readjust to life on the road. I resented those occasions when Kerrass demanded that we set a watch. I grew angry at the weapons drills and the fact that Kerrass was pushing me to be better and better than I had been. I no longer....enjoyed the training although saying “enjoyed” is the wrong word for it really. I never “enjoyed” the training but I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I no longer saw the point in it. I resented the time away from the road, the hours that we spent training and honing our skills would have been better spent being on the road and chasing after our enemies.

I chafed at the slow pace that Kerrass set. I longed to move faster and grew angry whenever Kerrass would take his time getting going in the morning, or when he would vanish into the woods looking for herbs and ingredients for his potions. Or those days when we would stop early to train or because Kerrass wanted an early night.

Or because we had already reached the proper resting point for the particular pass which we were using to leave Toussaint.

When we had first left Toussaint I had been all for taking the road rather than travelling by magical gate, but then the sheer time-scales of what was involved started to weigh on me. It was spring now which meant that it was going to take us a good few months to get up to Northern Redania to meet Sam and work to track down and uproot the remains of my cousins cult. The artificiality of my self-imposed deadline for marriage began to weigh on me. I felt trapped by it and I wanted to get things done. I wanted to find my enemies and pound them into dirt.

And I suppose that Kerrass bore the brunt of that.

We were four days out of the Toussaint pass and making our way north when things began to boil over, which meant that we had been on the road for about three weeks. There was a large tree at a crossroads. You see them all over the continent, both in the Northern Kingdoms and in the Empire as a whole. It's a meeting place, a resting place and a gathering place. Not quite big enough to warrant a tavern or an inn being built in the place but it was a nice big way-post. A landmark in miles of otherwise unremarkable, lightly forested farm-land. There were a series of notices nailed to the tree. Again this is not unusual.

“Half a moment,” Kerrass called to me as he dismounted to peer at the notices.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“What do you think I'm doing?” He snapped back, just as testily. “I'm looking for work. A Witcher's got to eat.”

“Come on Kerrass we don't have time for this.”

“Don't have time for what.” He had pulled a notice off the board and was reading it through. It seemed a little longer than the vast majority of notices that you find nailed to signposts by the side of the road. He folded up the piece of paper and tucked it inside his pouch.

“Kerrass. The kidnappers are getting further and further away.”

“So?”

“So we have to catch them.”

“You go off and catch them then. I need the money.

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“No you don't Kerrass, I have plenty of....Kerrass.”

Kerrass had climbed back onto his horse and was riding down one of the tracks away from the tree. It wasn't quite back the way we had come but it certainly wasn't following the road north.

I chased after him but when he noticed that I was following he increased his speed to a gentle trot and pretended not to hear me calling his name.

For my part, I decided that he was being stubborn and obstinate. Both things that he was more than capable of being, and went after him. Not that I had much choice. He was the one who would know what to look for when we went north up to Kalayn lands. He was the one who had other sources that we could check and knew about the various people and places that might know something.

So I followed him. What would you do?”

It didn't take us long to get to the village in question.

Now that we were climbing down from the mountains we were heading into some of the river deltas. The streams were coming off the mountains full of snow melt and the fish were heading up to their spawning pools. It was a nice-ish fishing village that made it's living by stringing nets across the fairly fast flowing river and catching the fish, which were then smoked and sold on to the merchants. I have since learned that the local area was known for producing a particular type of fish known for it's delicate taste.

Goes well with Pears apparently. Not that I was paying attention.

We had to go downhill to get to the village and as we came out there we could see down the valleys to one of the inlets that fed the sea. If I had been in a better mood I would have seen the beautiful view for what it was.

Another place that I intend to go back to and visit when I'm in a better mood. Thanks for reading on ManaNovel!

In the far distance we could see a huge castle which was flying the standards for Nilfgaard and a couple of other badges that I knew from the coronation. I guessed that it would still be several days ride in the distance but I guessed that this would be the residence of the, heh, local lord.

The village itself was nice enough. Not rich as they were using thatch in their roofs rather than the more expensive tiles. As well as the extensive fishing nets there was also a lumber mill and flour mill working the river. I could see a couple of dozen houses and huts of various sizes and supposed that this was the kind of place that also traded off the local farms, of which I could see several through various clumps of trees.

As we rode down into the village itself, Kerrass strapping his silver sword to his back as we went, I also saw that there was a ruined watchtower up on the hill as well as an old, deserted, decayed looking manor house that looked overgrown and ruined to the point of neglect. Not yet to the point where the locals were cannibalising it for the tiles or stone but I guessed that it would only be a few years before that happened.

The watchtower was made from the kind of grey stone that suggests that it had been there forever. But it was clearly not in use.

We rode down the path and over the single-arched stone bridge. As we got closer we could also see a Blacksmiths, an inn, a tannery and a butchers yard. I thought I could also identify which building housed the local herb-woman and I thought I could see a local building that had the sign of the Nilfgaardian eternal sun carved above the door and guessed that this would be what passed for schooling in the local area.

For the life of me I couldn't guess what we were doing here.

Kerrass led us to the inn and we tied our horses up to a post just outside.

“Kerrass what are we doing here?”

He ignored me.

“Kerrass. Wait, what the fuck are we doing here?”

He stopped and turned to face me. There was a strange, unreadable expression in his eyes as he gazed at me steadily for a moment.

“I told you, I need to work. I'm running out of funds.”

“Kerrass. I have plenty of money, I have a line of credit with my family money lenders and I'm sure that the Empress gave us enough authority that we can sleep in the way-stations and eat out of their cooking pots. We don't have time for this.”

He sighed and turned on his heel and began to walk away.

But I'd had enough and I stepped forward and grabbed him by the arm, attempting to spin him around to face me.

I don't know, I suppose that I wanted him to take notice of me, to take me seriously or to listen to me in some way. I don't know why I did it. It might just have been one of those irrational things that you do when you're angry and in pain.

I do know that I shouldn't have done it. If only because of the black eye that I received.

I stared up at Kerrass in shock. Fortunately it hadn't been raining on this side of the mountains and I hadn't landed in any mud or dung or anything. He looked down at me, coldly.

“You seem to have forgotten the rules of the road Freddie.” He told me. His voice was flat and unemotional.

“They are not the only things that you seem to have forgotten but these are the most important ones so I shall remind you of them before your... attitude costs one of us our lives. I am a Witcher. You are a scholar. You have been lucky in your dealings with me and I have come to view you as a friend. That has not changed.”

“Then....” I started to get to my feet and he pushed me back to the ground with his foot.

“I wasn't finished,” He snarled. His anger was suddenly oppressive and snapped forward like a whip.

I subsided and his voice returned to it's flat grating sound.

“The deal goes like this. You do what I tell you, when I tell you to do it. You may ask questions but if I decide not to answer them then you will not complain and you will do as you are told. The fact that you are now my friend only means that instead of killing you for failing to obey these rules, I will instead render you unconscious by virtue of a blow to the back of the head, tie you up and deliver you to the nearest Imperial patrol with orders to deliver you to Ariadne, Emma or the Empress. Whichever is closer. Then they can deal with you. Or you can come with me. It's your choice but you will make it now, if you please?”

“But...”

“I know you think that we are chasing your sister's kidnappers. We are not. We are hunting them. There is a difference. Your decision please.”

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. I considered myself a grown man and was ashamed of the tears that sprang into my eyes. I looked away and nodded.

“Good.” He grasped me by the arm and hauled me to my feet before walking off. I had to scramble to keep up as he led me to the butchers yard.

“Also, just to be clear. I don't want your money. If you offer it to me again I shall take what money you have on your person and jam it down your throat. That is not a joke, or a threat. It is a promise. Now wait here.”

He told me before going inside.

I took the opportunity to clean myself up a bit. I had my pack and my spear as we hadn't taken our belongings into the inn yet. I was aware the several people were looking at me and I felt small, lost, angry and more than a little shame. I went over to the water-trough and did my best to clean my face.

“Freddie,” Kerrass had come back out. There was another man with him. Tall, heavy on his feet. He was stripped to his waist but wore a huge leather apron over his front.

He was grinning hugely.

I went to pick up my bags.

“Leave them, yes, leave your spear too.”

I firmly told myself that I had just promised that I would do as I was told and went over to where Kerrass was standing.

“This is Gustav.” Kerrass introduced us. I offered to shake his hand but he just stood there grinning at me. He was, maybe in his early forties, strong and heavy. He was missing his left hand, presumably in one of the wars and had strapped some kind of fake appendage to it. Despite his age and obvious life experience, he was almost bouncing from one foot to the other with glee and excitement. “Go with him and do what he tells you. Everything that he tells you.”

“What?”

“I'm going to take a look around and see if I can talk to whoever it is that I need to talk to. I'll be back by evening to see how you're getting on.” Kerrass left then, I saw him pick up my pack and gear as he went, marching off back towards the Inn.

I felt lost and bewildered.

“Follow me Princeling?” The huge man said to me. “Come on, chop chop.” He sniggered at some kind of joke that I hadn't registered or didn't understand.

Once again I was left scrambling in order to catch up to someone.

“Where are we going?”

“Yes, he said you'd have questions. He also said that I should ignore them.”

“Yes, well. He would wouldn't he.”

“He's the one paying the money Princeling.” He laughed at his own joke.

“I don't suppose you'd let me in on the joke would you?”

“Nah, not worth it.”

“I could pay you.”

“Yes. He said you might say that too.”

He showed me through the butchers that was adjoined to the tannery yard and into a small open area that looked as though it had been cleared abruptly. There were a few more men who were standing around. The giddy excitement of my immediate companion appeared to be contagious and they were giggling to each other. The fact that they were all, fairly large men, heavily muscled and seemed to be wearing nothing but huge leather aprons was not encouraging.

“I feel like I'm the butt of some joke.” I told Gustav.

“Maybe, maybe.” He said. “But if you are, it's none of my doing. I just takes the money and do as I'm paid to do so....here we go. I have a selection of knives for you.”

He led me over to a wooden table that was just under the eaves of one of the out buildings. There were a series of hooks that had been set into the roof. On one of those hooks there hung a dark leather satchel. It looked like an oversized version of what a surgeon might carry around with them, containing their hooks and tools. On the table there was a large pair of scissors as well as several lengths of thin but strong looking rope.

“Ok.” I said, undoing the satchel so that it hung down and I saw that I was right. I removed a wicked, curved blade with a hook on the end. “So what am I supposed to be doing with all of this?”

“Lukas?” Gustav called.

One of the men that was perched on the fence climbed over the back and bodily picked up a pig. It was a large beast, not one of the full grown hogs that you see in some pens but at the same time, this was no piglet. He hauled it over the fence and dumped it over into my little enclosure, where it squealed and ran around for a bit before squatting as far away from the humans as it could. It just sat there and trembled.

“So.” Gustav said with a huge grin. “Off you go then.”

“Off I go, what?”

More laughter drifted over from where the other men were lounging. One of them was passing a hip flask

around.

“Butcher the Pig.” I was told as though it was obvious.

“Butcher the pig?”

“Butcher the Pig.” He said again.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” He looked as though he was enjoying himself a little bit too much for my comfort.

“I mean, why am I doing this?”

“Why do we butcher the pigs or why are you butchering the pigs?” He asked me. “He told me that you would ask this question as well. Witcher's got you down pat if I might say so.” He grinned. “He your butt-boy or something?”

I said nothing. He was trying to offend me and I decided not to rise to it.

“We butcher the pigs because we need the meat and the skin.” He told me after a while. “Why are you butchering the pig? You'll have to ask the Witcher. He told me to say that if you asked me why I was making you do it, I was to say that “you said you'd follow my instructions,”” He paused for a moment and I could see the words that he'd just said replaying themselves across his mind. “He probably meant that you said you'd follow his instructions.”

“Ah,” I said. “Ok then. Any pointers, tips or suggestions?”

“Quicker is better.” Gustav said. “First you've got to catch it. Then you have to kill it. Then you have to take out the poisonous bits.”

“Will you tell me which bits are which?”

“Don't you know?” he seemed scornful but unsurprised.

I sighed. “I can probably guess.” I started rolling up my sleeves.

“That's good because I was told not to help you.”

“Fantastic.”

What followed was one of the more humiliating, not to mention difficult, few hours in my life.

I started off with a knife in my hand as I thought it would be easier to kill the thing while it was on the ground. Then maybe it would weaken enough so that I could capture it properly.

I ask the reader now. Have you ever tried to catch a pig with one hand?

I hadn't until that day and I had not even begun to imagine how difficult it was.

For a start, pigs are STRONG. I mean really fucking strong. And they move like lightening when they're scared, or angry, or anything really. It occurs to me now that I sit down to write this that that just about covers everything that can be said about a Pigs mood.

Other than when it's eating I suppose.

The other thing to say about Pigs, which astonished me. Is that they're relatively clean animals. It's not that they don't get dirty but it's not a thing that they do by choice. If you clean the pigs out regularly then they will stay clean.

They're also hairy. Like many people I had been brought up on stories about pigs. I had seen cartoons of the animals that made them look like fat, jolly, clothed caricatures of people. They would have shiny skin, rosy cheeks and go “Oink”.

Real pigs are nothing like that.

They have small black eyes, look absolutely furious and make a screeching noise.

There were several times when it got angry enough to charge me where I was honestly concerned for my life.

I don't know how long I spent chasing it down, rather ineffectually with one hand reaching out to catch the beast while the other hand was clutching a knife in what I hoped was a businesslike grip.

My audience was growing as other villagers were being called over by the other butcher and tanner workers.

I heard bets and wagers being taken. It seemed that the story of my being a Witcher apprentice was doing the rounds again only this time, the story had developed to the point that I was now cast as a minor nobleman's son (accurate) who had run away from home in an effort to avoid marrying the ugly old spinster who would bring my family a massive dowry. A story that was a lot closer to the truth than I was entirely comfortable with.

I don't know how long I tried that strategy. At first I was coming to believe that I had missed something and just assumed that this was an acquired skill. The laughter that I was absorbing was beginning to get through to me though and I began to believe that maybe there was something more to this whole thing than I had first thought.

Eventually I stopped and returned to the table. I was bruised, dirty and sweating. Gustav approached and handed me a water skin. Laughter tears were running down his face but he clapped me on the shoulder good naturedly.

“Still no pointers?” I asked.

“I would son,” I realised that I'd been promoted from princeling. I was absurdly grateful for this. “I would but I've specifically been told that I'm not to and I'm being paid a not small amount of money to follow his instructions.”

“Oh yes. How much money?”

He just grinned.

“Right,” I took another drink and stared at the table and tried to look at the big picture. I have knives, I have string and I have a table.

I was missing something.

Why were the knives near the table?

Ah, I see.

I put the knife that I had been waving around ineffectually back in it's assigned spot. I checked where the pig was. It had run off into a corner and was watching me suspiciously.

Right then.

I looked at the lengths of rope and took a deep breath.

One of the interesting things that I had learned in my time following Kerrass around was exactly how you go about tying a person up and how to tie a noose. Ideally you have the noose ready in advance so that all you have to do is to have the noose slip round the things that you're tying together and then just tighten the noose.

Ooh, and when you're tying up a person you want to tie someone together at the elbows and the knees as well. Not just ankles and wrists.

I looked at the pig again and decided that similar techniques would work here as well.

I selected a few pieces of ropes and tied them into nooses and hung two around my neck and one round each arm. Normally I wouldn't have one round my neck. I'm not that stupid but I was also aware that I might need spares and I wasn't going to take chances with just depending on the ones that I would have on my arms.

Right then. Both hands to work with.

“Right you little bastard,” I snarled at the pig who was watching me suspiciously. “I'm coming for you.”

The butchers cheered ironically as I went forth into battle.

It was much easier with both hands as it meant that I was much more likely to get hold of one leg and hold onto it long enough to get my feet back under me and be able to drag it over so that I could bind the legs.

It still took me a couple of tries though before I had the thing trussed up to my satisfaction and by the end I was sitting on it to keep it still.

To add to my indignity, the pig pissed itself in terror and drenched me in it. Not just a little bit either, properly hosing me down.

That earned another cheer but I managed to get the thing over to the table and by dint of much effort got it onto the table. People began to lose interest then and I heard some money changing hands.

Gustav approached while I was having another drink and considering the next stage of the problem.

“Not bad.” He told me with a grin. “I've seen worse.”

“Really?” I asked. “Have you really seen worse?”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” He told me. “And you haven't seen stupid until you've seen brand new apprentice stupid. You realised about the rope fairly quickly considering.”

“Considering?”

“You know, considering that you're a princeling.”

“So what happens now?”

“Now you kill it.”

“What's the best way?”

“That's not for me to tell you.” He said. “You have the tools though.”

“Look.” I told him. “I get that this is supposed to be some kind of learning experience and I'm supposed to take something away from this. For the life of me though I can't think what it is.”

He had turned to go but now he turned back. “Have you ever killed anything before?”

“With my own hands?”

He nodded. “Not with a bow or anything stupid like that. With your own two hands.”

“Yes.” I sighed. “Rabbits and other small game mostly. A few chickens.”

He nodded.

“And twelve men.”

He stopped nodding. “I'm surprised.” He said after a while. “You don't look like a soldier. What did you use?”

“Spear mostly. Well it's more a pole with a two foot blade on the end rather than a spear. Also a couple of them with a dagger and one guy with a rock.”

He nodded. I couldn't tell whether I had gone up or down in his estimation. “In the war?”

I shook my head. “Self defence mostly, or what the Witcher would call Proactive self-defence.”

“Where you kill them before they kill you?”

“That's the stuff.”

Gustav nodded.

“Did you serve?” I asked.

“I did. Served in the brigade. The Cockatrices they called us but we called ourselves The Cocks for a variety of reasons.”

I smiled. “I can guess.”

“Got my hand cut off at Brenna so I didn't see the third war. Did you serve?”

“Yes and no.” I said taking on some more water. “My father was powerful enough to make sure that none of his sons saw combat. I was a bit to young anyway and so I served with the Logistics division. I counted boots. At the time I was really angry at him even though I had less physical coordination then than I do now and I am well aware that I am not very graceful.”

“I would have said something else.”

“Yes well. Now I find that I'm quite glad that I didn't fight. Not only would I have had to be very lucky to survive but I've met many Nilfgaardians now and some of them are quite good men. Some of them I would even call friend.”

He grunted at that before he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Anyway, best get on with it.” He said walking away.

“Hey,” I shouted after him. “I thought we were sharing something here.”

He made an eloquent gesture with one finger and returned to his fellows.

“Ok,” I said to myself. “How do I kill a pig?”

I selected a knife, looking for one with a point.

“Same way as you kill a human I suppose.” I aimed for the neck.

I missed.

I missed the second time as well.

The pig hadn't given up it's desperate fight to survive. Humans tend to realise the fight is lost and give up.

Pigs though. Pigs fight.

I missed the first time because it jerked away from the blade and instead I stabbed it in the chest.

It screamed at me and relieved itself again in pain and terror. I tried again but it was so busy thrashing around in terror that my blow glanced of it into a deep gash. But it wasn't deep enough. Now it was bleeding, but not enough.

I tried for the throat again but this time the blow went up, gouging under the chin.

The poor thing was really thrashing around in terror and I began to feel sick.

But it wasn't dead yet.

The throat wasn't working for me so I thought about trying for the heart.

Where the fuck is a pigs heart in it's body?

I took a guess and drove the knife in.

Another thing I learned about Pigs that day is that they're made almost completely of muscle. The knife was razor sharp so I knew it wasn't that. So it was either the pig or my technique. I felt as though I couldn't push the knife in any further and I wondered if it had come to rest on bone.

But then I couldn't get the knife out for another go. In my panic at the pigs screaming I had forgotten to twist the blade so now it was stuck. I got another knife and tried again.

Pigs can also cry. I didn't see that it had tear ducts but it sobbed in pain and terror.

I was really sweating now. Drenched in piss and gore. I was almost grateful when Gustav put his hand on my shoulder.

He was no longer smiling and I noticed that my audience had dwindled and what remained looked uncomfortable.

“Use the hooks” He said. “Rear leg tie on the hook so it hangs down and then cut it's throat.”

“Helping me again?” I asked bitterly. My mouth was bitter with self-loathing.

“No,” he said. “Helping the pig.”

We got the pig onto the hook with some little effort.

“Now,” He said kicking over a bucket to catch the blood. “Slit it's throat. Use the knife third from the bottom.”

I did as I was told and the poor animal finally died.

I managed to duck away to vomit. Not that much though. Breakfast had been some time ago.

Gustav was back and it was just him and me now although I noticed that Kerrass was sitting on the fence, watching us. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the setting sun but otherwise his expression was still.

Killing the pig had taken me the better part of the afternoon.

“Now,” said Gustav. “Cut it from chest to crotch, the hooked blade to help you tear through the hide. That will let you get at the offal to cut it out.”

I nodded. Taking the indicated blade.

This, also, was much harder than I thought it would be.

The rest of the offal was cut out under Gustav's patient instruction. He wasn't a bad teacher all things considered but it was getting dark by the time we were done and I was exhausted.

He took me aside, well away from the remains of the pig. It was plain, even to me, that not much of the corpse could be salvaged for leather or food as the animals distress would have rendered the meat impossibly tough.

“If you had been sent to me as an apprentice.” Gustav said. “I would have told you that you didn't do badly. I would have advised you to ask for an apron next time.”

I managed to find a smile somewhere as I looked down at my ruined clothes. “You mean that I could have had an apron all this time?” I had to force the words past a lump in my throat.

“Yes, why else do you think the lads and I are all but naked?”

I grinned at him but it was weak and we both knew it.

“What else?” I croaked

“I would have told you that the worst is over with now. You've killed and butchered your first animal and that anything that comes later cannot possibly be as bad as that one was.”

“Ok.”

“And I would have told you to go home. That if you don't come back in the morning, that I will understand and I will tell your parents or previous master that I didn't think you had what it takes to be a good butcher, no questions asked. Then I would have told you that I hoped that you did come back before walking off.”

“But I'm not an apprentice.” I had to swallow a few times to speak. I felt exhausted and wanted somewhere quiet and dark to go and hide in, “What would you really have been thinking?”