When they saw the female warlock again, she was lying on the blood-stained sand, shaking her head trying to stay conscious.
Without her two legs, Margaret now looked like a drunk woman sprawled on the ground.
It seemed that her forced spellcasting earlier had indeed put tremendous pressure on her nerves.
"Is this... the dean of Airetusa?"
Philip helped Lann walk over, looking somewhat incredulous.
"Weren’t female warlocks supposed to be... um~ very attractive?"
"She looks quite ordinary."
"The effect of Magic Cream." Lann waved a hand, explaining to him. "I asked her, and when talking about appearance, the kind of innate confidence she displayed didn’t seem fake."
"Then we better be careful not to wipe off the cream on her face." Philip pursed his lips.
"I know my men, a bunch you can’t trust with themselves. Even if you tell them she’s a big deal, if the female warlock is as fiery as rumored, some of them will definitely get handsy."
"It’s normal for them to lack control, but you can’t control them?"
"Ha!" Philip glanced at Lann, chuckling.
"You obviously don’t have any management experience, buddy. Prestige is a consumable. If you use it on trivial matters, people won’t take you seriously when real trouble comes."
Lann weakly raised his hand, giving a thumbs up.
"I’ve indeed never been a leader, lesson learned."
Philip didn’t dare delay the female warlock’s injuries, and the horses he ordered were soon ready.
Though the female warlock was weak, her consciousness almost fully returned by then.
"No, no stretcher. Demon hunter, you just need to take me on horseback."
At this time, Lann also retrieved his silver sword and Bopai from the woods.
His bones still ached under the toxic erosion from the magic potion, a feeling like an unrelenting high fever.
For him, it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t ride.
"Can you handle it, milady?"
Lann skeptically glanced at the female warlock’s two legs.
Those wounds were nearly festering to the bone.
Margaret rubbed her forehead, responding: "The wounds and infection don’t matter, rushing back to Airetusa quickly, with magic healings I can even make my legs more beautiful than before."
At this time, the fixation with the legs was still "beauty"? Wouldn’t normal people’s first response be to restore mobility?
Lann didn’t quite understand what was going on in the female warlock’s mind.
Philip sent out a cavalryman, none other than York, to escort Lann and Margaret to Gos Velen.
After all, neither the demon hunter nor the female warlock appeared capable of fighting right now.
The remaining cavalry would take the rescued children and evidence from the camp’s crimes to Crow’s Nest Castle, where the lord was.
Offering new prestige to Sir Viserad.
Lann mounted his horse, adjusted his horse’s head with York, ready to set off under the cover of night.
Margaret’s complexion was dreadful, in reality, a patient with infected wounds wouldn’t look good.
But oddly, once they were on Bopai’s back together, the female warlock seemed like her upper body had no bones, leaning against Lann.
Her complexion instantly softened.
Despite the heavy armor, Lann could feel the astonishing elasticity and curves of the woman in front of him.
Magic Cream can’t change the figure.
But... could this figure be fake!
Are there really body curves looking like post-processed short videos?!
Is magic this unreasonable?
"... What are you doing?"
Lann frowned slightly.
Though young men are at an age full of vitality, the mutation for demon hunter also causes excess hormones.
But now he was struggling with the toxins inside, and the female warlock in his arms wasn’t seductive because of the Magic Cream... though her figure was top-notch.
Margaret freed herself from a tingly sensation likened to slight electrocution, speaking nonchalantly.
Inside her head, the dean of Airetusa shouted.
Her fellow female warlock had a demon hunter lover, whose tumultuous affair was prime gossip in their circle.
During their gatherings, Yennefer claimed that magic reactions inside demon hunters would interfere with female warlocks.
Though its degree is weak, it never affects spellcasting. But the feeling brought by the magic interference could definitely apply to scenes of bliss...
Women being dirty could shock men, and female warlocks are filthiest of the filthy!
Now she wasn’t thinking anything else, pursuing this feeling was merely to act as a temporary painkiller, easing the pain from her festering leg.
Margaret discreetly glanced back.
The magic reactions in this guy’s body were even stronger than what Yennefer described!
Are there variation and intensity differences among demon hunters?
York wielded a long halberd, nodded at Lann from horseback, signaling readiness to set off.
Just then, White led a drenched dark-haired child towards Lann on horseback.
More accurately, White was initially leading. Upon seeing Lann, the child’s eyes lit up, excitedly running towards Lann, leaving White behind.
York and Lann simultaneously raised eyebrows, this dark-haired child was a girl?
Can’t blame the two, Alia’s dark hair and gray eyes conveyed a chilling sense, naturally reducing femininity.
With a small rapier at her waist, her lively, frantic demeanor made her more of a boy.
Her temper seemed tougher than most boys, not waiting for White to catch up.
Alia raised her face worshipfully, staring tightly at Lann.
"Sir, you are the most impressive knight I’ve ever seen! Could I become your attendant?"
The young demon hunter looked bewildered at the suddenly appearing girl.
"I’m not some ’Sir’, ’Knight’, there’s no need for honorifics... Wait! Whose child is this?"
Lann turned to ask York, the long halberd soldier was also puzzled; at his cultural level he probably didn’t know how to use honorifics.
But the girl couldn’t wait to introduce herself anyway.
"Alia. Alia Stark, this is my name, sir."
The demon hunter’s cat eyes scanned the girl up and down.
He found this girl’s excitement differed significantly from the rescued kids around.
Others felt gratitude after surviving a disaster, this one had novelty and excitement.
... Did she think being kidnapped and sold was a game?
"I mean... haven’t you been in this camp for long?"
Guess only kids newly arrived would be this optimistic.
The approaching White added her piece.
"Yes, Alia was captured only yesterday, she even shared yummy snacks with us in the cage... what was it called again?"
"Fried pork pie. I wasn’t captured, I just lost track of everyone for a moment. That pie was meant to be my snack."
"Lost track?" York scratched his head, "Did you get separated from your family? If it’s not far maybe we can help find them."
Alia nodded, "Not just family, but the King’s group. We were accompanying the King to King’s Landing."
"King? King’s Landing? What drivel are you talking about? King Veltrest hasn’t been to this muddy pit for years."
York was perplexed, "muddy pit" was a "fond" nickname Velen People gave their homeland.
"Forget it, this girl probably hears too many stories, now frightened, speaking nonsense. What’s your take, Lann?"
Alia didn’t react much to York’s words, speaking with children in the cages over these days, they didn’t even know "Stark."
So Alia understood she probably was about to embark on a new adventure like in childhood stories.
This thrilled the girl who loved wielding weapons since young.
Now she tightly eyed the "great knight" who singlehandedly broke through the enemy’s camp.
Lann was certainly troubled, but the female warlock waved her hand holding her brows.
"Take her along, I just ask we set off quickly. If we don’t find her parents, I could easily find her a sustainable job by sparing a word at Gos Velen."
The demon hunter and female warlock’s damaged bodies couldn’t bear it.
So York picked up the girl onto a horse, the four set off on two horses.