Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

It took them three months to travel all the way south to Rivia. This is a small kingdom in the north, which is also Geralt's full name, the Rivia among Geralt of Rivia.

It is located in Dor Angra, close to the Mahakam Mountains, and has a lot of advantages in trade. There are many excellent workshops and blacksmith shops in Livia, and the weapons and other goods produced are of high quality and exquisite craftsmanship.

Widely praised, the accent of the Livia people is very recognizable, and they are also subject to great discrimination abroad. Until now, there is still a saying that "Livia people are thieves".

Geralt's eyes moved away from the flag with three red prisms on a white background hanging on the city gate. He had no special feelings about this country. The reason why he called himself Geralt of Rivia

Special, because at that time Vesemir felt that the name he gave himself was too exaggerated and stupid, so he drew lots and got the prefix 'of Rivia'. He had never been to this place before, but he had seen him often.

There is no difference in other towns.

It's even far worse, after all, this is just a small country. But it has stone tile floors, and the people coming and going are all looking good - looking good means they live a good life, which means there are no commissions to accept.

"This is it."

The black-robed mage murmured to himself. It was the first time that he applied the prophecy to reality, so he was a little excited.

"So? What are we going to do now?" asked the witcher.

"do nothing."

"do nothing?"

"Yes, you don't need to do anything deliberately. Just let nature take its course, Geralt. Just do whatever you want, go find those girls to play, go to the casino to play, or do you finally remember that you are a 'water ghost'

Slaughterer, you can kill some water ghosts to relieve yourself. Just stay here for a while."

"...I would rather you call me Bald Knight than call me that damn nickname."

"Okay, okay, bald knight, go and do your business. I'm going to take a walk here." The mage quickly sent him away, while he himself stayed where he was, slowly blowing in the breeze.

Disappeared.

----------------------------------------

"Damn Water Ghost Slayer... Damn White-Headed Knight. Damn it. Damn it. Who the fuck came up with this name... I will hang him on the flagpole and whip him without even fainting.

Stop..." The witcher rode his new carrot and looked for the stables in the city. To his disappointment, there were no public stables here like Novigrad, which meant that he had to find an inn.

, let those damn profiteer innkeepers take some crowns out of their pockets.

"Alas..." The demon hunter sighed. If this continues, he may have to kill water ghosts every day. In fact, this is not something to be ashamed of. Most demon hunters are like this.

Wandering in sewers or ditches, killing a few water ghosts to earn some crowns. This is not a high-end profession. After all, there are only a few demon hunters like Geralt who are capable of hunting dragons. And even if it is him, he still has to

Kill some water ghosts.

He randomly picked a hotel on the street, got off his horse, tied it to the stable outside the door and entered.

The boss is a young man with a mustache, which is very rare. His beard is not even fully formed. The witcher estimates that he grew a beard to make himself look more mature. Most people in the hotel industry are

These are treacherous middle-aged men. After traveling around the world for many years, Geralt strongly agrees with the saying that hotel owners are profiteers. Therefore, even though the owner of this hotel is relatively young, he still does not relax his vigilance.

"Get a room for one night, and get some food. And the chestnut mare outside the door, take care of her." Geralt's hoarse voice sounded next to the bar, and he threw out thirty crowns, which was

A relatively low price, but definitely enough for the boss to recoup his capital. As he expected, young people are not shameless enough to let them tell lies like middle-aged people and defraud him of his money. The mustache was quickly put away.

After pointing out the room for him, he hurried to the back kitchen and started working.

Geralt found a seat in a corner and sat down. He put his swords on the table and stretched his stiff shoulders. After the long journey, he really wanted to eat something hot now. He just waited boredly.

During the meal, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a woman sitting in the other corner. She had red hair and looked young. She covered her face, and her exposed arms were covered with bruises. Her shoulders were shaking, and she seemed to be

Crying, there are two bottles of wine on her table.

Geralt began to guess that this was a little hobby of his.

Did your husband hit you? No, it's not like... you are too young to get married at such a young age, unless your parents are all assholes, but this possibility is not ruled out. The clothes are good, and the family background should be okay. If not

If your husband beats you... then he is your father, or your cruel stepmother. It's a family.

He sighed silently until the girl let go of her hand, and Geralt's pupils shrank into a single line in an instant - there was a long scar on the girl's face, which was very new and had not even scabbed completely.

He could even see a small section of pink flesh.

Now, things get interesting.

Geralt squinted and looked away. He didn't want to offend the girl. At this moment, his food came. The young man with the mustache brought him a plate of mashed potatoes and boiled potatoes.

beans and a bowl of broth, which was quite affordable. The witcher said thank you softly, and the young man smiled a little at a loss. He walked to the girl's table and spoke awkwardly.

"Virya, if it doesn't work, you can come back. You don't have to..."

"No, brother." The girl called Wei Ya sniffed and interrupted her brother. Her voice was still crying, but her expression was very determined: "I will not leave there unless

They killed me."

Her brother caressed the scar on her face distressedly. Geralt couldn't see his face, but his low voice also had a slight tremor: "How dare they do this to you... Damn it!

By the gods..."

Instead, Wilya comforted her brother: "No, they may have bullied me, but this scar has nothing to do with them, brother. I have grown up, don't worry too much about me, I am capable of taking care of myself.

"

After saying that, she showed a strong smile, patted her brother's arm, and then left.

Her brother was left behind, and Geralt was eating mashed potatoes calmly.