Chapter 230

After finding the Arachas’s hidden stronghold, the Witcher’s journey through the sewers finally came to an end, and for a time he was freed from worldly trifles.

The forge’s furnace blazed hot. Berengar, master smith, began hammering away at the Griffin steel sword, while Letho, whose XP in that area was comparatively richer, assisted from the side.

The two of them shut themselves inside the smithy and refused to come out. Kael, Orin, and Roy, three complete amateurs, were rudely driven out.

“They think we’re in the way? We worked ourselves to the bone finding the diagrams and materials, and this is how they repay us, once the mill’s done grinding they slaughter the donkey.” Orin muttered a few indignant complaints.

But he calmed down soon enough, and his thoughts drifted elsewhere. Witchers were born to toil, and always needed something to burn off that excessive vigor.

The Kael brothers had grown up in the southern Viper School and did not know much of northern customs, so they decided to take a look around Vizima, the capital of Temeria.

Roy had originally arranged a training schedule for himself and Griffin, but the recent stretch of high-intensity fighting had left his mind a little weary. He decided to relax for once.

...

Vizima held tens of thousands of residents and travelers from all over the world, and was filled with every sort of building, castles, military fortresses, temples, arcades, markets, merchant stalls, workshops, banks, inns, taverns, and brothels.

If one truly meant to experience it all, even three days and nights would not be enough. But Witchers never followed ordinary roads. Their tastes were narrow, astonishingly uniform, or perhaps simply plain.

Every Witcher was a connoisseur of drink.

There was some truth in that.

The Kael brothers dragged Roy along and began making the rounds of Vizima’s taverns, taking turns sampling the signature spirits of each one.

Proper wines, sweet fruit liquor, high-proof strong drink, this trade city had everything.

And besides drink, taverns also gathered the most lively folk in all the world. They ran all manner of strange amusements. In Roy’s eyes, those were far more interesting than the drinking.

Golden Apple Inn, Temple Quarter, Vizima.

“Come one, come all, take a look! Arm-wrestling challenge, the reigning champion has defended his place thirty times already. Can he keep the miracle going? Let us wait and see. Cheer, all of you, cheer for Vizima harbor’s own ‘Popeye,’ Poppy!”

A frenzy of shouting erupted in the tavern.

“Popeye” lived up to the name. He wore a thick beard, and the arm outside his vest was thicker than an ordinary man’s waist. Every inch of him was hard, handsome muscle, a walking wall of flesh.