New chapter is live.
Settle in, take your time, and let’s see what waits in the dark 🖤
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They reached Ard Carraigh in the evening.
Kaedwen was the largest kingdom in the North, and in the known world it was second only to Nilfgaard.
Its capital had the scale and prosperity to match.
Behind towering walls stood brick houses and stone-paved roads, home to twenty-eight thousand permanent residents and more than twice that number in travelers and temporary laborers.
The streets were crowded with merchants, workers, revelers, silk, and perfume.
After paying the entry fee, Lambert brought Marek to an inn called Lame Nat’s.
They stabled the horses, took a room with two beds, dropped their luggage, and Lambert immediately turned to leave.
His urgency made Marek curious enough to stop him.
“What’s the rush?
Got somewhere to be?”
Lambert paused, turned, and looked him up and down.
Then he jerked a hand for Marek to follow.
That was how they arrived at a discreet bathhouse whose private rooms offered more than hot water.
Lambert disappeared toward the back with a grin.
Marek paid for a bath and a thorough scrub, ignored the attendants’ teasing, and returned to the inn without waiting for him.
***
Back at the inn, he took a table in the corner and ordered pork ribs with roasted yams, garlic bread, and a large jug of hot milk.
Around him, the tavern’s drinkers talked loudly.
He listened, hoping to pick out something useful.
The travel plans he had made at Kaer Morhen had been far too naive.
Without Lambert’s advice along the road, the journey would have been far rougher.
Even caring for Trusty on a long journey required more experience than Marek had expected.
No amount of reading could replace miles on the road.
After eating his fill and listening for a while, he accepted that important intelligence was not going to stroll up to his table just because he sat in an inn.
Money first, then.
He already had a plan for that.
Marek walked to the innkeeper.
“What’s the current exchange rate between crowns and ducats?
And can you change a few for me?”
After confirming the rate, Marek exchanged three ducats for one crown, then returned calmly to the room and locked the door.
He set up a small pot with practiced ease and heated water in the hearth.
After counting the sixty ducats he still had, he selected twenty old coins whose unicorn markings had worn almost smooth and dropped them into the pot.
Then he fixed his eyes on the crown he had received in exchange.
On the front was the profile of Radovid V.
On the back was Redania’s crowned silver eagle.
He began to stir.
***
By dawn, Lambert still had not returned.
Most likely, he had spent the entire night on his chosen entertainment.
Well rested, Marek did not mind.
He decided to go out, look around, and find places to exchange the brand-new crowns now in his possession.
Most cities stank of open drains, refuse, and worse.
Ard Carraigh was an exception.
Built on the foundations of an abandoned elven city, it had intact sewers and a measure of beauty to go with them.
The new crowns could be exchanged back into ducats without difficulty at several money changers.
With money in his pocket, Marek wandered through the market and bought small amounts of saltpeter, sulfur, quicklime, bone ash, charcoal, and other ordinary materials.
He did not want to draw attention, so he bought only a little from any one stall.
After packing the alchemical supplies into the herb satchel at his side, he continued down the streets, eating skewers of roasted meat as he walked.
The leisurely mood lasted until he noticed a barbershop.
***
Lambert returned to the inn only that evening.
When he entered, he was covered in an unspeakable stench.
Dirt and filth clung to him, and his armor bore several bloodstains and fresh tears.
The silver sword that had been wrapped in cloth when they rented the room now hung on his back beside the steel, and together with his bright cat eyes, it marked him unmistakably as a witcher.
“Innkeeper, a big tub of hot water to my room,” Lambert barked, heading upstairs without looking back.
He did not notice Marek eating dinner in the corner.
As Lambert’s steps faded above, whispers began to rise around the room.
“Witcher…”
“Is that…
a mutant?”
“Damned monster…”
“Freak…”
“A thing cursed by the gods, against nature itself.”
“Product of evil magic.”
“Devil-spawn.
Something filthy that crawled up from hell.”
If Marek kept listening, he knew he would lose his temper.
He closed his dinner basket, picked up the food and milk, and went upstairs.
The moment he opened the room door and breathed in, he nearly vomited on the spot.
He immediately regretted bringing food.
Lambert was removing his armor, preparing to wash away the filth and blood.
The smell was a thing life should not have been asked to bear.
“You miserable bastard,” Marek said.
“Were you playing in a cesspit all day?”
He knew Lambert had probably been hunting monsters, but the source of the room’s pollution did not deserve kindness.
Lambert untied a small pouch from his belt and tossed it in his hand.
Coins clinked inside, sweet and bright.
“Easy work.
A few rotfiends in the sewers.
Small bodies, big appetites.
They’d already caused several deaths.
Their miser of a captain wanted to offer two hundred.
I pushed him to three hundred.
Been busy since.”
Marek had no interest in Lambert’s bare backside.
He turned aside, set the food on the table, and sat down.
“Ducats?”
“What did you want, crowns?” Lambert said dryly.
Marek ignored the sarcasm.
He had asked only to confirm the local rate.
He reached into his herb satchel, pulled out a potion, and tossed it toward Lambert’s voice without looking.
“Swallow.”
Swallow was a healing potion only witchers could use.
Like the other witcher formulas, its effects were potent and its toxicity severe.
Lambert caught the vial and gave it a light shake.
The orange-red Swallow gleamed clear.
“Good stuff.
I’ll keep it for later.
These scratches will be mostly fine by tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself.”
After a while, water splashed in the tub.
Whether the stench faded or Marek simply got used to it, he eventually picked up his food and started eating again.
“I was eating downstairs when you came in,” he said.
“After you went up, the drinkers…”
“Said ugly things?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
Marek thought for a moment.
“Next time something like this happens, take me with you.
I mean monster hunting.
I may be able to collect useful materials.”
“You sure?” Lambert’s grin could be heard even without looking at him.
“The way you went green and tried not to vomit was spectacular.”
Marek finished his milk and patted his stomach.
“Idiot.
Sooner or later, you’ll learn that alchemy can do anything.”
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Want to keep going?
I hope this chapter gave you another reason to stay with the story.
There’s still plenty ahead, and things are only starting to unfold.