The Divine Hunter

"Fuck, scum, useless singer!"

In the alley north of Novigrad, next to a narrow house painted pink, a slender, voluptuous elf man in pajamas is standing on a roof terrace full of flowers, looking down, he grabs a flower The basin is about to be thrown down.

Below, the handsome man with the moustache, in an olive hat adorned with feathers, jumped back like a goat, barely avoiding the flowerpot, which shattered into a thousand pieces in front of him.

Then a lute flew down, and the man hid in a hurry.

"Please, Ariel." He shouted with a wry smile, "Don't believe their nonsense, I'm very loyal to you, and I've never found another man! If I lie, I'd rather abstain from sex for the rest of my life!"

"Rogue! Devil! Don't bother me again!" The elf man yelled and ran into the house, closing the window heavily.

"Why can't you believe me, what other man can match your peerless beauty? Of course...except for women." The handsome man muttered and picked up the lute on the ground, vigilant like a marmot on the prairie Looking around, he was relieved to see that no one noticed, and calmly took care of the bright blue notched lapels and puff-sleeved tights.

"There is no place to keep the master here, there is a place for the master. I just went to the boss's banquet to change my mind, maybe I can find some inspiration."

The bard's face regained his composure, holding the lute to tune the strings, plucking a few notes to test the tone, and while walking through the narrow alley, he played a low tune with vibrato,

"The air of autumn fills the air,

The wind stole my language,

This kind of thing is justified, so,

Don't let diamond tears well up in your eyes! "

...

"Master Dandelion, welcome to the Poetry Lovers Conference..." Located outside the vanilla hotel in the most prosperous area of ​​Novigrad, two big gatekeepers wearing blue armbands bowed to the visitors, "It's been a month. See, I wonder if you have any new works coming out?"

"Your home is covered with snow, and frost covers rivers and lakes..." Dandelion sang in a magnetic voice, but only one sentence, and then squinted at the two gatekeepers, as if he didn't want to discuss elegance with such vulgar people The art of, "Don't you want to hear my "Winter" before Boss Alphonse?"

"Don't dare, don't dare! Is this poem called "Winter"? Wonderful name!" The big man's face flashed with panic,

Retreat to both sides, "It's a pity that Boss Alphonse is not here today. Butler Boggart presides over the party... is waiting for you inside, Master, please come in!"

The bard then pushed open the wooden door of the Vanilla Inn arrogantly.

The Vanilla Hotel is one of the largest hotels in the entire Novigrad. The party hall on the first floor is terrifyingly large enough to accommodate hundreds of people enjoying at the same time.

At this moment, the tables and chairs that originally occupied the hall were scattered to the edge, filled with all kinds of delicious food, and the wine and juice to accompany the meal. There was a huge bonfire in one corner of the hall, with barbecue skewers on it.

Bundles of mistletoe and heather were hung high on the surrounding walls, and a red ribbon was opened under two sets of magic lamps on the left and right of the ceiling, with the words "Nuocheng Poetry Lovers Conference" written on it.

According to tradition, "garlands" made of garlic hang around the hotel to deter vampires no one has ever seen.

Dandelion put down the lute in his hand, held up a glass of wine comfortably, took a sip, and involuntarily focused his eyes on the stage in the central open space.

Although it is crowded, it is not noisy. More than thirty poetry lovers from Novigrad and the surrounding area gather here, most of them are arty petty nobles, wealthy merchants and bards, along with corners The Willie Gang's bodyguards and thugs quietly listen to a charming performance by a young woman.

The woman, in a long elegant dress, sat on the stage, accompanies her melodious singing with a lute on her knees. She looked less than twenty years old, with a raised figure and blond hair draped over her shoulders.

Dandelion came a little late, just in time to hear her finish the last few lines in her oriole-like mellow voice. The crowd responded with thunderous applause and applause, but she only nodded slightly, and her long hair shook slightly.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen! Friends—" shouted the tavern owner, raising his beer glass, "let's thank Ms. Vespera once again for a wonderful performance, and Mr. Alphonse, because With his generous and selfless sponsorship, the vast number of poetry lovers and like-minded people can participate in such a wonderful gathering."

"To Vesper, to Alphonse Willie!"

On the left side of the hall, a well-dressed middle-aged man, Alphonse's butler, stood up and raised his beer with reverence.

...

After a long while, the female bard squeezed out of the crowd, "Hi, Dandelion!"

"Hey Priscilla, that song just now was really good, and your repertoire has really improved a lot. I've said before that if you can't write your own songs and your inspiration is always withering, you might as well borrow some from others. Do you often do this?"

"It doesn't count," Priscilla countered. She smiled, revealing her tiny white teeth, "There are not many songs to borrow, either because the lyrics are too bad and vulgar, or the melody is too monotonous and doesn't meet the audience's expectations. It's you, Dandelion, recently. Have you written a new song? I haven't heard of it in a long time."

"It's no wonder," the bard sighed, "where I sing, I invite only the most talented and well-known artists. I've never seen you in those places."

Vespera blushed and blew her hair, "If your words got to the boss, do you think he would be happy or angry? Do you think you will be able to live in Novigrad in the future?"

The blushing person became Dandelion. He came to the party where the gang boss reported it, just to fill his stomach and get some benefits. Although Alphonse was obsessed with poetry, he also highly respected his own works, but unfortunately he was not one of them. Qualified poet, but also involved in dirty gang business, Dandelion completely agrees with his hobby on the surface, but in his heart he is a little despised.

"Okay, old man, let's not run against each other..." Dandelion rolled his eyes and changed the subject, "I can't keep Steward Boggart waiting for a long time, it's time for me to go."

"Don't worry..." Vesper shook her head and glanced at Boggart's position, her eyes were full of brilliance, "Mr. Butler is seeing a few distinguished guests, and I don't have time to talk to you for the time being."

"What distinguished guest is more important than me?" Dandelion followed her gaze and saw three completely unfamiliar figures at the gangster's butler's table, along with most of the surrounding guests who were stylishly dressed, bloated, or too thin. It is completely different. The clothes are simple and simple, and the figure is strong. Just looking from the back, it gives people a feeling of sturdy and calm.

"Is it an out-of-town poetry lover?" Dandelion saw one of the young amber vertical pupils, and another familiar old friend suddenly appeared in his mind.

"They're the protagonists of my next work, The Witcher."

...

"Boss Alphonse didn't come today?" Oakes took the lead in raising a beer to the middle-aged man across from the round table, "I'll do this first as a tribute."

A total of three witchers came to the vanilla tavern today, Roy and Serrit sat beside Oaks, and the rest stayed at home with Old Moore.

There were also several gangsters beside the man, with bad expressions and vigilant eyes.

There have been several waves of guests who wanted to come to toast, but they were frightened by the situation at the table and left consciously.

Roy swept through the crowd one by one, dark gold's pupils flashed a dim light, and then raised his eyebrows.

A few strong bodyguards with outstanding physical fitness are not uncommon, but not far behind Boggart, there is also a middle-aged man who is exchanging cups with the bards. He is dressed in a light gray robe and hangs from his neck. The silver Anka exudes faint magic waves.

"The Willie Gang is really rich, and even a warlock can be hired as a bodyguard."

In fact, not all warlocks can become decent royal advisors, and many more become herbalists and personal bodyguards.

The bards were crowded, and the boss of the Willie Gang was not present, so it was obviously not suitable for hands-on work.

Witchers enjoyed their drinks like normal people.

Opposite a few people.

The housekeeper of Willie's gang leader looked about forty, with an aquiline nose, thin lips, deep nasolabial lines on his cheeks, and a mean face.

His long and narrow eyes glanced, and then he returned a cup.

"I'm the steward of Willie Manor, Boggart. The three masters, the purpose of this trip is about those bastards yesterday?"

It was obviously just an ordinary tone, but that gloomy energy made the nearby air seem to be a few degrees colder.

"That's right." Oaks said bluntly, not wanting to go around in circles, "Butler Boggart, according to the agreement we reached half a year ago, your gang will never harass the old Moore family, and the Snake Sect witchers will never interfere again. The help of your gang... but according to what we have seen with our own eyes, how can the truth be the opposite?"

Boggart took a deep breath and suppressed the irritability in his heart. Except for his immediate boss, not many people dared to talk to him like this on Novigrad's territory, so aggressive.

Someone had done this before and he was tied to a rock and thrown into the sea, but it was difficult to deal with the witcher like this.

Two witchers came to Novigrad last time, four or five this time, who knows if more will come next time?

"This guy Vincent has violated the rules of the gang without authorization for half a year, and I only heard about it recently..." Poggart deliberately pretended to be angry, "Let old Moore suffer for half a year for no reason, I was negligent. already."

Roy was surprised that the high-level figures of the four dignified Novigrad gangs were so easily subdued?

Even the faces of the bodyguards next to him could see obvious mistakes. In their impressions, Boggart was as ruthless as Boss Alphonse, and he was definitely not someone who bowed his head and compromised easily.

He didn't seem to pay attention to everyone's expressions, and continued, "I cross-examined those three guys, and they almost extorted a hundred crowns from Old Moore in the past six months..." As he spoke, he summoned the owner of the vanilla tavern and whispered a few times. The latter quickly brought up a bulging bag, shook it, and made a clear and pleasant collision sound.

Then put it in front of the witcher.

"The two hundred crowns were also accepted by several masters on behalf of Old Moore, as compensation from the gang."

The witchers looked at each other, but no one moved.

This account, they will take it.

"Besides that..." the butler increased his voice, "I thought that an arm would be too light for the offender as a punishment."

Not long after, another slightly soaked, reddish linen bag was placed in front of the witcher.

There are three tongues in it.

"As a member of the Willie Gang, but under the guise of the gang, I extorted and blackmailed the gang's reputation, and even offended several masters of the Snake faction. In order to prevent such things from happening again and give you complete peace of mind, I cut them off. Their modus operandi..."

Poggart's face was calm and calm, as if he had killed a few flies casually.

"In addition, the boss sent me a message that the members of the Willie Gang will no longer harass the old Moore family. I have already greeted the butcher boss in advance, and he will take special care of the old Moore when the protection fee business in the market changes hands next month. , free of charge."

"How many masters are still satisfied with this?"

"Poggart, if you have something to say, you may as well speak up."

Roy is not here to talk about conditions.

There are no clean people in the Novigrad gang.

"Are you still satisfied?" he asked still stubbornly.

"What if you are satisfied, what if you are dissatisfied?"

"Several masters think compensation is still appropriate, then we should talk about another matter," Poggart chuckled lightly, leaning back on the rattan chair, his eyes squinting, and his tone instantly became as cold as frost.

"Those three guys are also members of the Willie Gang. Even if they violated the rules of the gang and committed a wrong, committed a crime, they should be skinned and cramped, and according to the rules, the brothers in the gang had to do it. But the three masters, not even It's really against the rules to make them crippled without letting the boss know."

"For a person with the status and status of the boss, there is no shortage of money or women, but he can't be without face... Vincent's story has spread throughout the gang, and now there are so many pairs of eyes staring, Alfonso If the boss can't uphold justice for them and keep the rules of the gang, what face will he have to sit first?"

"If the masters can't give the brothers a satisfactory explanation, the more than a thousand brothers in the gang will never forgive me, including me."

"You don't want to, want to do it? I accidentally died, and Mr. Willie will avenge me!" Boggart and the witcher in the center looked at each other, making no secret of the threat,

Roy shook his head, this old yin had no good intentions from the beginning.

That's right in the middle.

"What do you want to explain?" Oaks showed his pale gums and smiled brightly. He has encountered many threats in his life, from his peers, villagers, and nobles. "Do you want us to give three hands?"

As soon as the words fell, the bodyguard beside Boggart held the sword around his waist, and there was a moment of tension near the round table. "That's not necessary, the boss has put forward a proposal that is more gentle and beneficial to both parties..." He said, "I have been fortunate enough to see the skills of the masters, far beyond the scope of ordinary people, so excellent, but they have been abandoned in In the wild, dealing with filthy and stinky monsters is overkill..."

"I'm sorry... Your Excellency, the gang has rules, and the witchers have the tradition of witchers, so I can't join you."

"It's not like that...I'll just say it," Boggart said, shaking his head. "I want to hire a few masters to win a few games for the Willie Gang...Underground fighting competition."

"This was originally a business managed by the boss, but unfortunately, there have been no elite soldiers under his command. As a result, the final honor of the Novigrad black boxing competition has been seized by the butcher's subordinates. I have to say that this is a big regret of the gang."

Poggart spoke his true intentions,

"The boss asked me to bring a message, if you are willing to send a member to win the final championship of the black boxing competition for the Willie Gang and become the 'Fist of Wrath', then all the grudges between you and the Willie Gang will be wiped off, and we will be Friends. Believe me, Novigrad is heaven for friends of the Willie Gang."

Roy lowered his face, unable to see any thoughts, but his mind was full of thoughts.

Alphonse Willie, what a hypocrite.

All the charges were dumped on his subordinates, and the agents sent out pretended to be righteous and dignified, and wanted to play a favor and win over the witcher?

If it wasn't for the truth from the gangster's mouth, Roy might have been shaken.

"We need time to think about it." The three exchanged glances, seemingly moving.

"Hurry up, everyone," according to Gert, "the boss promised to get the 'Fist of Wrath', 90% of the prize money and the lottery will belong to the Viper School, and the remaining 10% will be used to appease the three disabled members and calm down. The grievances of the brothers in the gang."

"Be sure to give the answer within two days," Poggart handed over a business card. "In the future, whether it is an enemy or a friend, it depends on what you mean."

"Willie Manor?" Roy glanced at the address on the gold-encrusted business card, nodded, and cherished it in his arms.

Go to a fucking boxing match!