Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Geralt didn't dare to tell Vesemir that he had added a little more salt, which made the soup horribly salty. He knew that if he spoke up, he wouldn't have to come back this winter. Even if he came back, Vesemir would not open the door for him.

After eating, he put on the dragon leather armor given to him by the mage, took the sword and his package and went out. His former horse was doing very well now, grazing on the hillside next to the castle all day long, and it was so domineering that it drove all the carnivores away. Even with a lot more goats and deer, it's cheaper for them.

Geralt came to the stable and brought out his new turnip, a docile black mare. The one before him was unfortunately gutted by the evil spirits. Put on the saddle and put on two swords. He set off again.

Going all the way down the mountain road, the witcher's heart did not fluctuate. He was thinking about whether he wanted to go to Novigrad for a while, since he didn't experience the newly opened store last time. The service is said to be very good. He squinted, his face expressionless, even serious. As for what's on your mind...

It's all clear to say dirty.

But Geralt is a bachelor now, and no one can say anything about him but slutty. What's more, he didn't steal or rob, and the money he earned was his own labor. Apart from Vesemir nagging in his ear every day, no one cares about it.

Thinking like this, he came all the way to the town at the foot of the mountain. The owner of the hotel has changed again, and it looks like the son of the previous one, about 30 years old. Geralt took fifteen crowns from his pocket and put them on the table, asked for some rations and took them away.

He planned to go all the way south to Sintra. He hadn't been there for a long time, at least ten years. Monsters are like wheat, and sooner or later they will grow. An experienced witcher will grasp the regularity of their appearance like a farmer, and go to harvest their life in exchange for money - of course, it may also be harvested.

Slowly out of the hotel, the story of the white-headed knight, who was well-known more than ten years ago, is no longer mentioned. It's hard for him to say whether he should be happy to finally stop being harassed, or a little sad about it. Overall, though, he's happy with the days when he doesn't need to run around in a hood anymore.

The sun was shining on his white hair, and Geralt didn't look like a witcher at all because of the dragon's leather armor. The workmanship of the leather armor was so exquisite that he even had to cover it with a cloak when he entered the city. He continued to walk along the path to see if he could kill some water ghosts... Yes, by now, he has seen it. Killing water ghosts can make money without any danger, so why not do it?

The water ghost slayer should be the water ghost slayer, he thought optimistically.

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Geralt walked into the tavern covered in blood.

He threw out the five coins in his hand and motioned for his boss to bring him a Temeria. Without raising his eyes, the bald boss said, "Hey, white-haired boy. The price has gone up."

"I didn't come last time."

"When was the last time you came?"

Geralt looked him in the eyes and said, "Three years ago."

The bald man said impatiently: "That's right, it's been three years. Of course I'm going to raise the price. Come on, ten crowns for a stout."

"It's too expensive."

"Get out if you don't buy it! There's only one pub here! If you don't buy it, drink the stinky water from those hillbilly houses!"

Geralt wasn't angry, he was so used to insults of this level that it didn't mean much to him. He just took out five more crowns and put them on, and the boss finally served him a glass of stout.

He drank it, and just wanted to find a seat to sit down, but the boss said, "You can't sit here.

"

Geralt stopped.

"why?"

The firewood crackled and there was a pause in the sounds of people drinking and talking. Their eyes wandered over the boss and the witcher.

"Because you stink so much, white-haired boy. I don't like people like you, but at least you can't stink my bench? You stink! And those two swords! Hell, give it to me Get out!"

His outburst was unexpected, his face was ruddy, and he was yelling in anger. Geralt felt a little weird.

He glanced around the tavern lobby and decided it was better to get out of here first.

He stood outside for twenty minutes when the boss sneaked out of the back door and saw him at a glance. The bald man changed his angry look before, nodding his head and running towards the witcher, even wanting to kiss his left hand.

The witcher withdrew his left hand without a trace, and said, "If you have something to say, just say it. Your attitude in the hall makes me very uncomfortable."

The boss smiled awkwardly: "I can't do it either... Master, I can't let the whole town know about my family scandal."

"Family Ugly?"

"Yes, yes. But definitely with the witcher!"

"First of all, I won't help you kill your wife's lover, or your mistress. I kill monsters to make money, not kill people."

"No, no," he hurriedly shook his head, for fear that the witcher would run away, "I want you to save my daughter from that damn wizard!"

"wizard?"

"Mage... Warlock, hey! Call it what you want! That damn guy wears a black robe all day, and since he came to town three months ago, we haven't even seen a wolf around here! He must have done it. What kind of evil magic. Of course, if it's just like that, I'm still very grateful to him, after all, I'm not one of those hunters, and I don't care about the price of wolf hearts and wolf livers."

"But the problem is, he actually wants to teach my daughter to read!"

"For Meritelli's sake! He doesn't want to teach her to read! He just wants to fuck her! My daughter is a famous beauty! You must help me and bring her back!"

Geralt glanced at the ugly face of the bald man, and he thought to himself how good-looking your wife would have to be to make your daughter a 'famous beauty', but he didn't say it, and sometimes, this Saying it that way will get you no money.

He just asked indifferently: "Where does he live?"

The bald man was overjoyed. He pointed to a black mage tower outside the town: "It's there! Master! You can see it directly! He will not refuse any visitors!"

"Really? Then he's still a very hospitable mage."

"Yes, still a very handsome oriental, compared to what I had when I was young... Hey, what am I talking about! Come on!"

"Wait." Geralt suddenly stretched out his hand and asked, "Oriental?"

"Yes what's the matter?"

Geralt blinked, but he didn't speak, changing the subject: "Let's talk about my pay."