System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 299: Walking Through the Iron Gates
Morning, November 13th, 1261.
A sudden downpour came without warning.
The gale howled. Endless silver threads fell from the darkened sky, veiling all of Novigrad.
Wrapped in broad black leather cloaks, two figures, one tall and one short, moved through the flooded streets.
If one came close and looked carefully, they would see that all the rain falling on them was deflected by an invisible film. A faint yellow light flickered and flowed. They hurried through the pouring rain, yet were strangely untouched by a single drop.
Ten minutes later.
The two came from Novigrad’s southeastern common district to the north of the city, outside a solemn, quiet compound.
A gate guard in thick padded armor, a longsword at his waist, leaned beneath the eaves to avoid the rain and stretched out a hand to stop them.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The cloaked figure lifted his hood, revealing a young and handsome face, and dark-gold pupils.
“Viper School Witchers, Roy and Letho. We had an appointment with Steward Bogart at the Vanilla Inn yesterday. We have come to visit today.”
The fleshy-faced guard took the gilded calling card, squinted with crossed eyes, and examined the two men up and down. He searched them several times, making sure they carried no lethal weapons or dangerous items.
Only then did he knock on the door.
“Creak.”
Two fully armed guards opened the gate, beckoned, and led the Witchers onto a clean bluestone path.
Out of the corner of his eye, Roy glanced at the walls around them, sturdy and high.
In the watchtower atop the high wall, a guard in a rain cloak stood watch with a hand crossbow.
Roy turned his attention forward, his dark-gold pupils quietly deepening.
In the broad courtyard, aside from flowerbeds, the most common sight was armed men dressed in every odd fashion. Some wore padded armor or chainmail, while others bared their chests and hairy legs beneath headscarves. They held longswords, short swords, one-handed axes, and all manner of weapons.
These men were all trained, picked from the best. Their average melee attribute of around seven or eight points stood above ordinary men, and each had a weapon specialization skill.
Roy counted roughly twenty or so. They lingered outside the three main buildings to the left, center, and right, gathered under the eaves to shelter from the rain. The looks they cast at the Witchers were filled with anger and provocation, almost outright glaring. Clearly, they did not welcome these two uninvited guests.
This must have been the lingering aftermath of what Orin and Kael had done last time.
In any case, the strict security of the entire manor still exceeded the Witchers’ expectations. It was no less than any prison holding important criminals.
“The boss of the Willie Gang is cautious enough.”
After thinking about it, Roy soon found it understandable.
As one of the greatest heads in the world’s most prosperous city, Alphonse owned countless gray businesses and was tied into dense chains of interest. Many lived by him, but even more wished they could eat his flesh and drink his blood, or take his place.
He had to stay alert at every moment and protect his own safety, even at home.
The two continued observing the distribution of people within the manor while obediently following their guide forward, until they arrived before an exquisite three-story villa in the center, built of red brick and green tile.
A gloomy-faced, well-dressed middle-aged man walked out.
“Since the two masters are willing to come to the manor, you must have made the wisest decision.” Bogart wore a smile at the corner of his mouth, stretched out a withered hand, and warmly shook theirs. “Welcome to the Willie Gang family. Once the underground fighting tournament begins in a few days and the two of you win the title of Fist of Fury, I will show you what paradise is.”
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