It was morning, but the skies were still dark and overcast. The air itself hung heavy. The witchers were going slow because of Roy’s injuries, but they managed to arrive at La Valette’s land by noon.
Roy did not waste his days doing nothing. His ribs were still hurting, and he could not do anything strenuous, so he spent his time honing his archery skills. He whipped out the archery tips and tricks Reagan gave him back at Mount Carbon and read through them.
Thanks to his unrelenting training over the past year, Crossbow Mastery finally leveled up, becoming the second skill to reach Level 2 after Alchemy, and the first skill to do that through pure, hard work.
‘Crossbow Mastery Level 2: After countless shots, you have deepened your mastery over hand crossbows and crossbows. Your accuracy, effective range, and armor penetration will be increased by (5 → 10)% when you use crossbows. You may cast this as a spell and double the effects, but you will spend double the stamina for every shot as well. Your movement speed will be reduced by half. This buff lasts for at least thirty seconds.’
Roy was lying on his horse’s back, spacing out at the horizon beyond. A smile was curling his lips. Crossbows were an important part of his arsenal. Blink and Guided Arrows’ strength were proportional to his Crossbow Mastery’s level. The higher its level, the more powerful Roy was.
Leveling up through hard work was different from leveling up through skill points. Every step was laden with sweat and blood. He felt more satisfaction from it. I guess the next one to level up is probably One-handed Mastery.
***
The land of La Valette was the La Valettes’ fief in Temeria. It was in the northern part of the kingdom and the southern coast of Pontar. A white bridge sat right beside it, and Redania was right across that bridge. It was faster and more convenient than traveling with a dilapidated and dangerous boat. The La Valettes’ ran this land for generations, controlling the trade and river routes around the area. Thanks to the family’s continuous expansion, the fief was Temeria’s largest and sturdiest line of defense in the north.
“Have you ever been to La Valette’s town area?” Felix rode on the uneven, muddy path, staring far ahead of him. A quaint village and lively fields unfurled before him. Peas, lettuce, gourds, onions, and tomatoes were growing aplenty in the fields. Unlike Velen, the farmers of La Valette grew enough crops to sustain themselves even without the acorn oil.
Letho shook his head. “What’s different about it?”
“I used to think Vizima was the best Temeria had to offer, until I paid a visit to La Valette’s castle. The palace, or fortress, whichever you like, is as big as any capital in the north.” Felix shook his head. “But words aren’t enough. You’ll get what I mean once you see the fortress.”
The witchers picked up the pace, and a rainstorm fell a while later.
***
There was an inn in a nearby village called Henhouse. The wooden door screeched open, and five drenched witchers came inside. They took up the seats before the counter. Letho was the one in the leftmost spot. Auckes sat on his right, followed by Serrit, Felix, and Roy. Carl took up the rightmost spot. They sat in descending order of height, looking like a mountain range from the back. It was weirdly aesthetic.
“Five Vizima stouts!” Letho knocked on the table and looked around. This is a henhouse alright. Cooped, narrow, dark, wet, and dirty. It’s a chicken coop, just bigger.
There were about ten customers having lunch in the corner. A part of them were local peasants, while some were merchants and travelers who just came to the city. The witchers gained everyone’s attention the moment they came in. Not everyone had the air of a hunter and walked around with two swords.
The sounds of conversation died down. The witchers felt the patrons’ gaze, but only for a moment. Still, they were sharp enough to notice that one of the patrons had disgust in his gaze. He disliked the witchers. “Gods, this is impossible. These abominations are working in groups now? And they even have a boy with them. Poor family must be crying over their missing kid. And he’s so frail. These bastards must have been torturing him.”
The witchers heard the pudgy man’s mutterings, but they stayed calm and ignored them. They were used to this. Most people disliked them, but they had no time to deal with the public’s opinion.
Barton’s grin widened, and he felt like chatting. “You gentlemen look like mercenaries? Are you mercenaries?”
“Mercenaries?” Roy shook his head and took out his pendant to show Barton. “We’re witchers from the Viper School. One of us is from the Cat School.”
“Witchers. Tramps and nomads without a place to call home. Master hunters who vanquish monsters,” Barton said a line that sounded like an opera, and he even warmed up a bit more.
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Oh, there’s nothing to fear from witchers. Can’t say the same for humans.” The look in Barton’s eyes turned a lot more mysterious. “I’ve been running this place for more than ten years. Seen a lot of customers in my life. I know witchers abide by the rules more than I can say for most people I’ve seen. They say witchers are bloodthirsty killers and child abductors, but I say it’s horseshit! Some people I’ve seen can pass for regular civilians, but the things they do… It makes your blood run cold.”
Roy gazed at the innkeeper. He did not expect someone in a rural area to see through the lies. The young witcher thought this man just became a lot more agreeable.
“Speaking of which, La Valette’s turf is a good place for you gentlemen. The city’s filled with all kinds of people. And where there’s people, there’s always problems. And where there’s problems, there’s always a mountain of requests waiting for someone to take.”
“Oh, we’re not here to take any requests.” Roy heard someone shout, and he turned around. For some reason, Letho and Serrit had also joined the drinking contest. The witchers were egging one another one, challenging each other to another drink. Even Carl was not spared. The witchers force fed him a few swigs of stout, and the boy looked red in the face. He was blowing a bubble out of his nose.
The patrons were infected by the occasion, and they hyped things up as well. They shouted, drank, and egged each other on to have more drinks.
“We’re going to stay around the city for a while and head to Redania through the White Bridge,” Roy said honestly. He took another bite out of the smoked pork, indulging in its taste. The wound in his ribs even felt a little less painful.
“Ah, it’s a pity then. The White Bridge is not open for the public right now,” Barton said, much to the young witcher’s dismay.
Roy’s heart skipped a beat. “What happened?”
“You’ll have to find that out yourself, witcher. I can’t talk about my own baron behind his back. He’ll execute me if someone reports this to him.”
“Milady! My dear, Louisa!” One of the patrons stood on his chair and raised his mug overhead. He swayed around drunkenly. “Am I not good enough for you? Why did you betray me? Why did you have an affair?”
The villager’s friend stood up as well. He raised his pitch on purpose and lifted his pinky. Apparently he was imitating a woman. “My dear baron, I know you love me, but you’re too old to give me what I want. I wish to be satisfied as a woman. And I’d love to be the queen if I can!”
“Get out of here!” Barton hurled a mug to the ground, sobering the patrons up. “Do you have any idea what you just said? Do you wanna die?”
The customers froze for a few moments. When realization struck them, they looked at the other customers in fear and ran from the inn.
“Hey, you need to pay for that, you bastard! Darn it! It’s on your tab!” Barton sighed and turned to the other customers. “Sorry you had to see that. They usually get up to no good when they’re drunk. That was just some nonsense they said. Just ignore them.”
Roy nodded, but he did not take that seriously. He was thinking about the names spoken by the drunk patrons earlier. Louisa and Baron La Valette? They’re the current baron and baroness.