Lynn looked around and found that they were on horseback in a grassland dotted with graves and tombstones.
As far as his eyes could see, there were thousands of burial mounds.
Moss covered the tombstones.
So were unremarkable, just large, shapeless rough rocks.
Others were polished smooth and carved into obelisks and monunts.
As for those towering in the center of the valley rocks and grassland forests, they were constructed as dolns, cairns, and circular stone arrays.
This was clearly not a natural formation.
"Esteed masters, let's continue on our way," Massimo said, his eyes wide.
He stared at the graveyard with a tense and uneasy expression.
It wasn't that he was afraid of ghosts.
But he had heard people say that monsters loved to make graveyards their hos.
Especially desolate graveyards like this one, with no signs of human presence.
He didn't want to have his intestines ripped out and eaten by a hungry ghoul in his sleep.
"Don't worry, Sir Knight, not every graveyard is haunted by monsters," Lynn said, looking at the tombstones standing in the distant graveyard. "Judging by their appearance, these tombstones have been here for at least five hundred years. The folks lying underneath have long turned to dust."
"Ghouls and grave hags prefer corpses; they won't gnaw on bones."
Geralt nodded in agreent and added, "Besides, if this place were haunted, there would definitely be rumors. Even if people couldn't afford to hire a witcher, rumors would grow wings and spread far and wide."
"But in reality, along the way, when we passed through those villages and towns, we didn't hear any talk of this area being haunted."
Seeing that the two witchers shared the sa opinion, the ranger-knight's anxious heart finally cald down a bit.
"Alright then, let's set up camp here tonight..."
Massimo's words were cut short.
In his vision, a black shadow flashed past like a phantom.
The ranger-knight's face instantly turned pale.
"A ghost! A wraith!"
Two clear sounds of blades being drawn answered the ranger-knight.
Lynn and Geralt quickly moved to Massimo's side.
The three stood back to back.
"Where?"
"Over there! It hid behind that tombstone!"
Massimo pointed in a certain direction.
His voice was strained with nervousness.
Lynn gripped his mastercrafted silver sword in one hand.
He quickly took a Superior Cat potion from his enchanted pouch and gulped it down.
Veins beca clearly visible on his face.
But at the sa ti, the dark world before his eyes beca incredibly clear.
He strained to look in the direction the ranger-knight was pointing.
But he saw nothing.
The witcher dallion hanging around his neck remained still and calm.
"Sir Knight, are you sure you didn't see wrong?"
It was absolutely impossible for ghouls or grave hags, or other corpse-eating creatures, to be in this graveyard, just as humans wouldn't settle on saline-alkali land.
If there really was a monster, then there was indeed only one possibility, and that was a wraith, as Massimo had said.
But the problem was, wraiths, these spiritual entities, would emit a very conspicuous eerie green light at night.
It wasn't that they wouldn't during the day, but it would be much clearer at night.
Therefore, if it really was a wraith, even if it hid behind a tombstone, its light would illuminate the weeds and soil near the tombstone.
However, Lynn saw no light at all.
Massimo insisted, "No, my eyesight is excellent. It's impossible for to be mistaken."
Lynn hesitated for a mont, then thought of a solution.
"Geralt, let's circle around from both sides and see what the hell that thing is. Sir Massimo, you stay here."
"I'll go with you," the ranger-knight said, despite his uncontrollable nervousness, "I don't want to be a coward."
Lynn comforted him, "You have no experience dealing with wraiths, nor do you have a silver sword. If it really is a wraith, you'll only be throwing your life away."
"A knight full of chivalry shouldn't die in this desolate wilderness."
The witcher's words silenced the ranger-knight.
"As you wish, Master. I will pray for you. May the Lady of the Lake grant you strength."
Lynn and Geralt cautiously approached the tombstone where the "wraith" was hiding from the left and right.
As the distance closed, Lynn beca increasingly puzzled.
Because neither Lynn's witcher dallion nor Geralt's was trembling; they lay quietly against their chests.
This was not normal.
If a monster was present, no matter what kind, the dallion would vibrate.
But now...
Suddenly, a strange scent entered Lynn's nostrils.
This made him frown involuntarily.
"Geralt, do you sll that?"
Geralt sniffed carefully. "There is a strange sll...is that the scent of herbs?"
"To be precise, it's wormwood, basil, sage, star anise, cinnamon, and so on and so forth."
A voice filled with elegance and wisdom ca from behind the tombstone that the three had thought the wraith was hiding behind.
"Please lower your weapons, gentlen. If I startled you, I apologize."
Lynn and Geralt exchanged a look.
They lowered their silver swords.
But they did not sheathe them.
Then, a middle-aged man in black clothing, with a small shoulder bag slung across his shoulder, walked out from behind the tombstone.
The middle-aged man had receding hairline, a high nose bridge, and deep-set eyes. The aura he exuded was different from that of a commoner who only toiled in the fields.
Even his voice seed to carry a kind of magic, making people feel an urge to approach and trust him.
"It is truly impolite. If possible, I sincerely wish we had t at a better ti and place."
"My na is Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, from Dillengen. I am a barber-surgeon. You may simply call Regis."
Regis?
Lynn looked at the middle-aged man.
The other's appearance was not much different from the one in his mory.
This was not surprising, considering the other's true identity was a higher vampire who had lived even longer than Vesemir.
"Barber-surgeon Regis, what are you doing in a place like this?"
Perhaps noticing that the other was unard and his thin fra didn't seem to harbor much explosive power...
More importantly, the other was a sentient being capable of communication...
So Geralt sheathed his silver sword with a shick sound. "There are no custors here in a hurry for a shave, nor are there any wounded in need of treatnt."
(End of this chapter)
....
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