System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 137
After returning to the inn, the Witchers tried to pick up the trail of the missing black horse along the stables, but to no avail.
Still, by their reckoning, this was already quite close to Vizima. If a horse went missing here, chances were high it had been sold off to a horse trader inside the city.
“How about we head into town and look?” Roy winced visibly. “That old companion cost me a fair bit of coin.”
“Works for me,” the Witcher agreed. “While we’re at it, you can empty your ‘pouch’ and restock supplies.”
...
Roy led the horse along a small path outside the city. To his left, stretching as far as the eye could see, lay the vast expanse of Lake Vizima.
The Temeria River cut across the land to their north.
Vizima, capital of Temeria, sat upon a massive island to the north of the lake. Water surrounded it on all sides, and four long bridges connected it to the mainland.
The Witcher’s destination was the eastern bridge, the one that led to the Trade Quarter.
From far away, they could already glimpse the hazy outlines of buildings within the city beyond the bridge. The tallest structure stood at the far edge of their vision, in the northwest of the island.
“Foltest Castle.”
The origin of that castle was, in a way, absurd.
Back then, Foltest’s own daughter, the Striga Adda the White, had seized his original seat of power. Left with no choice, Foltest had started anew and built this castle within the city.
Years later, when the Nilfgaardian Empire broke through Vizima’s gates, the fortress became Emperor Emhyr’s wartime residence.
“I wonder how that Striga’s recovery is going now.”
At the mention of Adda the White, Roy could not help sighing.
That legendary figure of Vizima was also a pitiable one.
Born of Foltest and his sister, she had lived as a monster, feeding on flesh and blood, ruled by bloodthirsty instinct for fourteen years. Even after Geralt lifted the curse and restored her human form, only five years had passed. How much of her humanity could she truly have regained?
And how had the king chosen to place her?
Roy had no time to dwell on it. He and the Witcher were already stepping onto the long bridge.
Merchants and wagons streamed back and forth across it, the crowd thick and restless, yet the distinctive appearance of the two Witchers made ordinary folk instinctively keep their distance.
Strangest of all, the city guards merely cast a curious glance at the Witchers, reminded them of Vizima’s rules, and waved them through.
All their worries proved unnecessary.
“The look in those guards’ eyes just now,” Roy said, “didn’t it seem a bit ... pleased?”
Letho shrugged. “Why care. We finish our business and leave.”
Beyond the gate stretched a narrow, elongated street. Brick buildings stood packed tightly on both sides, and beneath their windows sat pots of brightly colored flowers.
The people moving through the street were mostly well dressed. Instead of cheap linen, they wore fine furs and silks.
They walked unhurriedly, many of them full-bodied and fair-skinned, clearly not the gaunt, shabby sort one expected from the lower classes.
“Looks like everyone living in the Trade Quarter has money...”
The closer they came to the center of the Trade Quarter, the cleaner and more orderly it became. The ground was paved with spotless cobblestones. Surrounded by tastefully adorned buildings, a bustling market opened up, where merchants from across the world gathered.
After dismissing several eager self-recommended guides, Roy and Letho stepped inside.
...
“Gentlemen, looking to sell a horse?”
A shifty-eyed short man seized the moment and sidled up. Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and flipped up the gray horse Vyrt’s lip to check its teeth.
With a sharp clack, Vyrt snapped his gleaming white teeth forward viciously, scaring the short man into jerking his hand back.
“What a lively horse!” the man exclaimed, his interest in Vyrt growing all the more intense.
Roy patted Vyrt’s head soothingly. “You try to talk his owner into selling him, of course he’ll be angry. I’m not selling a horse. I’m here to buy one.”
“All the better!” The short man beamed. “Common stock, fine breeds, draft horses, riding horses, racehorses, Kjunong Stables has it all. Guaranteed satisfaction!”
“Please come this way, honored guests. McCoggins at your service!”
...
The three made their way through the heart of the market. Roy was surprised to find that most of the goods on offer were hardly common wares, but jewelry, gold and silver ornaments, rare books, expensive furs, spices, and other luxuries.
McCoggins explained from the side, “First time in Vizima, I take it. The Trade Quarter is home to Vizima’s elite. Nobles, wealthy merchants, sorcerers, even Velerad, the city prefect himself, lives here. They’re all rich folk, so this market exists mainly to serve them.”
“If you want ordinary daily necessities, you’ll need to take a look in the Temple Quarter.”
“Oh?” Roy asked curiously. “From what you’re saying, the Temple Quarter and the Trade Quarter are home to two completely different classes?”
“That’s right. Horse traders like us ‘poor folk,’ and the upper crust.”
“I’ve always wondered, whose Temple is the Temple Quarter named after?”
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