It was undoubtedly a cruel irony to protect monsters from disturbance while allowing the true citizens to rot around them.
The closer the two got to the old palace area, the denser the patrols of Guards became.
When a team of Guards noticed Karl El and Geralt, two intruders who clearly didn't belong there, they immediately surrounded them, their attitudes rough and wary.
"Stop! Who are you? This is not where you should be!"
"Get out, mutant!" a soldier barked.
His gaze lingered especially on Geralt's cat-like eyes and the two swords on his back, filled with undisguised revulsion.
Geralt's face was expressionless; he was long accustomed to such treatment.
Karl El stepped forward and spoke calmly: "I am Karl El."
"We are here on official business, by direct command of His Majesty the King."
His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.
"Karl El?" The captain was stunned.
Immediately, the hostile expression on his face melted away like ice and snow, replaced by a look of almost fawning respect.
"You... you are the champion of the Martial Arts Tournament!"
"The battering ram who single-handedly swept the entire field, Lord El!?" His voice was slightly distorted by excitement.
The surrounding soldiers immediately put away their weapons, their faces showing awe and curiosity, whispering amongst themselves.
Karl El's astonishing performance at the Martial Arts Tournament had already spread throughout the entire army.
"That's right. This is Lambert, a Witcher master." The title of 'Battering Ram' made Karl El's mouth twitch, and then he nodded.
"His Majesty assigned him to deal with the... trouble in the palace with me." He deliberately blurred the matter of Princess Adda.
"I see, I see." The captain nodded and bowed repeatedly.
"Please forgive my short-sightedness for not recognizing you immediately, Lord El. Please forgive our rudeness."
He glared fiercely at the soldier who had spoken disrespectfully earlier, then said eagerly: "Are you going to the palace? Please allow us to lead the way for you."
"This area is very unsafe; those non-human rabble..."
"Don't worry about them, just lead the way. We need to get closer to the palace perimeter to investigate," Karl El interrupted him.
"Yes! Yes! Please follow me!" The captain immediately turned and loudly ordered his subordinates.
"Attention, everyone! Clear the way for Lord El and... and his companion, and maintain vigilance!"
Thus, the originally hostile Guard team instantly transformed into a respectful honor Guard.
They lined up in two rows, escorting Karl El and Geralt in the middle, roughly driving away any non-human races who tried to approach or merely looked on curiously along the way, proceeding towards the old palace.
With the Guards clearing the way, the journey became exceptionally smooth. The further they went, the more dilapidated the surrounding buildings became.
The atmosphere also grew increasingly eerie and dead silent, as if even the sunlight became thin and cold.
A faint, unsettling stench of decay and... a certain indescribable sweet, bloody odor began to permeate the air.
Finally, the team stopped at the edge of a mostly collapsed plaza.
Ahead, the once magnificent, now overgrown with vines, grime, and darkness, old palace lay like a huge, silent beast.
Even in broad daylight, it exuded an ominous aura that made one's heart pound.
The Guard captain and his subordinates could no longer conceal the fear on their faces; their steps became hesitant, and they refused to take another step forward.
The captain's face was pale, and he said to Karl El with a trembling voice: "Lo... Lord El... we can only... only escort you this far."
"Ahead... ahead is that monstrous thing's territory. None of our brothers who went in before ever came out..."
His gaze fearfully darted towards the depths of the palace, at the gloomy windows and dilapidated doors, as if something terrifying could burst out at any moment.
"That's enough; wait here," Karl El calmly instructed, not forcing the Guards to follow.
The Guards felt as if they had been granted a great pardon; they quickly retreated, huddled together, gripping their weapons nervously, watching Karl El and Geralt.
The two unhesitatingly crossed the cordon , walking into the depths of the palace ruins, a place where even sunlight seemed unable to penetrate, exuding an aura of death and curse.
The figures of Karl El and Geralt soon disappeared among the crumbling walls and thick shadows.
Behind them, only a group of trembling Guards remained, along with the non-human races in the distance, peering from the shadows with complex eyes... The entrance to the Old Vizima Palace was like a forgotten tomb, emitting a putrid, bloody, and indescribably sweet, raw scent.
Karl El and Geralt stepped over the crumbling threshold, and the light inside abruptly dimmed.
Only a few weak rays of sunlight pierced through the broken dome and high windows, forming columns of light in the pervasive dust.
The sensation underfoot was unpleasant; it was not flagstone, but a thick layer of mixed soil, dry bones, and fragments of shattered fabric.
The stench of decay in the air was even more intense, almost nauseating.
Their gaze was quickly drawn to the scattered bones on the floor.
Bones lay deep and intertwined, most of them incomplete.
The vast majority were human-sized bones, interspersed with the remains of wild dogs, rats, or other small wild beasts.
Some fresher bones still had tattered fragments of clothing or rusted pieces of armor clinging to them.
Geralt knelt down, his cat-like eyes glowing faintly in the dimness, carefully examining a skeleton torn to pieces.
Karl El also observed the surroundings, drawing on his experience as a hunter for a period of time.
"Plate armor... these are the fallen knights," Karl El whispered.
He used the tip of his sword to pick up a thick shoulder plate adorned with a lily motif.
It had several deep, horrifying dents and tears.
Geralt nodded, his fingers brushing over deep marks on a nearby stone wall.
These were not cuts from swords, but claw marks left by something large and sharp, penetrating almost an inch into the stone.
"Very strong, and... very fast."
The two quietly exchanged their observations, their voices remarkably clear in the dead silent hall.
"Look at those teeth marks; they're not the typical fine indentations of a Vampire Bird... they're coarser, deeper, more like... a beast," Geralt said, pointing to a gnawed humerus.
"And footprints, on all fours... front paw prints are deep, hind paw prints are slightly shallower; extremely explosive power. Does it usually move like this?"
Karl El pointed to a dust-covered area where there were several blurry but large paw prints.
The conclusion gradually became clear: Princess Adda, hidden deep within, transformed by the curse into a Vampire Bird.
She was completely different from the type of monster described in Geralt's knowledge, which typically maintained a humanoid form, was slender, and primarily attacked with seduction and sonic waves.
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