Bear School Astartes-Chapter 580 - 582. Should... be able to, right?

Chapter 580: 582. Should... be able to, right?
As the Demon Hunters returned here, in front of a dirty yellow tent.
In this dark forest, many people barely opened their eyes or struggled to stand up.
Pairs of eyes were watching them, among the crowd there were old and young, men and women.
People wearing Sintra clothing, and Skellige people wearing blood-stained, scabbed ragged furs, as well as Temerians with the white lily emblem on their clothes.
Their eyes carried trust and dependence, yet also anxiety and panic.
The former mainly directed at Geralt and Ged, while the latter was aimed at Lann.
Until Ged stepped forward and reiterated his earlier words here: "This is a friend from my class, he’s here to help me."
Afterwards, Lann cooperatively pulled out the roaring bear’s head emblem from the bear fur collar of his armor, signaling them to see.
Then Geralt, Ged, Dandelion, and even Ciri walked among these people, saying trivial things like "Are you alright?" and "Did you eat today?"
Only then did the panic in these people’s eyes gradually dissipate in these seemingly meaningless conversations.
Lann’s handsome face would usually draw attention wherever he went, along with his glowing silver hair like fairies, yet here he absolutely drew less attention than Ged, this bearded man, or Geralt, with his deadpan face.
Here and now, they outshined Lann greatly; they were the focus of everyone here.
The refugees cast their eyes full of hope and aspiration upon the two Demon Hunters.
In any other place, Demon Hunters would not receive such attention.
"I’d bet a thousand Oren that Ged wasn’t this nervous when dueling with the Bat-winged Brain Demon."
Lann whispered to Dandelion beside him.
Compared to the two Demon Hunters, the poet and the young girl were obviously more idle.
Dandelion shared a section of the blanket draped over his shoulder and placed it over Ciri’s head.
"These people are displaced, seeing no hope of survival along the way."
"They are not like soldiers who have undergone training, knowing how to use weapons and armor, or how to organize formations. They’re scattered and powerless, merely drifting like water plants in the river in this world."
"They can’t even trust themselves because they know their own weakness and powerlessness. So, they can only trust others, stronger people. Really, all they’re left with is trust."
The poet spoke in a rare tone devoid of slick talk and showing off literary talent to Lann.
"Geralt and Ged are considered ’capable’ in their eyes, likely also among the few in this group of refugees who genuinely care about them, so these people choose to trust them."
"Although we all know that Demon Hunters can’t actually handle several Niflgaard soldiers, if nothing else, it at least gives them something to cling to."
The dark fog is cold, speaking now would release precious warmth from one’s mouth.
Yet these refugees still whispered softly, calling "Master", "Demon Hunter Master" when facing Ged and Geralt.
Within those whispers lurked emotions, people’s fear, helplessness, dependence, all transmitted through those voices, weighing on the Demon Hunters.
Causing these two, who can calmly face daytime Demon Spirits, to start taking deep breaths to calm their minds and spirits.
They had nothing to offer these refugees, no food to fill their stomachs, no clothes to keep them warm.
Yet somehow, just by speaking, they offered these refugees unseen support.
After walking into the tent, Lann looked at Ged sitting on the ground propping his knees, suddenly asked.
"You didn’t tell them my name so I wouldn’t get trapped here, but..."
"Ged, what about you?"
"Can you withdraw yourself when you should leave?"
In the lightless darkness, Geralt was arranging Ciri’s sleep, his hand pausing for a moment while tucking the blanket, then returning to normal.
Dandelion, seemingly oblivious, fiddled with his lute placed in the tent, wrapped in a blanket.
"Yes."
The bearded Demon Hunter rubbed his face fiercely as if bewildered.
"Should be... able, right?"
Lann said no more.
-----------------
Early the next morning, everyone in the tent woke up to find themselves unknowingly snuggled around Lann.
The warmth from his body attracted those sleeping at night.
Waking up in the morning, everyone’s first glimpse was the warm breath wafting from nose or mouth.
It made their hair and face both wet and cold.
After slightly tidying up, the three Demon Hunters left the grove under the dim sky.
This was a hunt against that special force, all of whom were top-notch experts.
Moreover, from Hacksaw’s decisive display last night, he at least convinced Geralt he wouldn’t do anything bad to Ciri at this stage.
Therefore, Dandelion and the girl with mouse-gray hair stayed at the camp.
Geralt and Ged rode horses, yet their shoulder height was no taller than Lann walking on the ground.
"You two have encountered those special forces, right? Describe them to me, consider it intelligence."
Ged and Geralt both sighed simultaneously on their horses, frowning deeply.
It seemed as if they were recalling the difficult adversaries.
"Can’t say we encountered them." Geralt’s magnetically deep voice slowly replied.
"We ambushed a squad of theirs, four people."
"Before that, Ged and I had just rushed out of a disturbed Sintra army, for which we each drank a bottle of [Thunderclap]."
"At the time those four were dismounted, relieving themselves, we used a meditation technique to lower heart and breath, then suddenly leaped down on them and slashed, killing two on the spot."
"But even when the number matched for a duel, they weren’t easy to deal with. This scar on my lip was left when I inadvertently staggered in front of an opponent then. If I had to choose, I’d rather battle ten regular Niflgaard soldiers."
"They’re different from those slow-moving soldiers, wearing leather or medium armor instead of heavy plate. Their movements are quick and precise, the calluses on their hands must be at a level achieved after decades of sword practice."
"Sounds like those seasoned swordsmen mingling on the market for over ten years, huh?"
Lann voiced his judgment.
Ged added beside him: "Not just seasoned swordsmen, but also seasoned ruthless mercenaries."
"Those guys find joy in torturing people, pure joy. I’m all too familiar with such twisted mental states."
"Really wonder what devil could assemble these folks together."