The watering ended without much sound.
The water that had flowed slowly earlier had now seeped into the soil, leaving the field damp and orderly. Lucas stood at the edge of the plots, lowered his hand, then walked along the rows with Geralt at an unhurried pace.
"If there are worms or strange leaves, tell me," Lucas said briefly.
"Y-yes, Young Master," Geralt replied at once.
He nodded without hesitation, his body moving deftly from one row to another. His hands parted the leaves carefully, his eyes alert, but the trembling that had once seized him whenever Lucian Voss stood nearby was gone. Now, Geralt worked calmly, even letting out a breath of relief.
Geralt moved along the rows, pushing aside leaves and brushing soil from the stems. His shadow shifted with the sun, stretching and shrinking as he stepped forward. A clump of dirt crumbled under his boot. He bent, fixed it, then continued, movements steady and practiced, the field responding quietly to his touch.
