Chapter 86: The Witcher’s Last Warning

The middle-aged man had a handsome, upright face. Look closely, and he even bore some resemblance to the profile stamped on an Oren coin. He straightened the puffed sleeve at his wrist and set the miniature model aside.

“Ubank, you should understand that it was because of this batch of children that I managed to establish amicable relations with the gentlemen of the Cult of the Sun. And now you mean to tell me that, because of one filthy mutant wretch, eighty children have become a quarter of that number?”

Ubank did not lift his head.

Unlike the fawning caution he showed before Saffra, Ubank knew the rule when facing his true employer. Do not beg for mercy. Show value.

The Cult of the Sun was the state religion of the Nilfgaardian Empire in the south. They worshipped the sun as the one true god, and all their clerics were men. Maintaining ties with them was one of his master’s priorities.

“I will lead a party to the coast of Cidaris,” Ubank said. “The aftershocks of the war there have not settled. Most of the men are dead. The women are weak from fear and abuse. Many children died too, but if we search the peasants’ grain bins and under their floorboards, if we take what can be taken, we can gather enough.”

“How will you raise a crew?”

The handsome middle-aged man spoke idly. To him, this was only an ordinary business matter, and business always demanded a calculation of cost.

If Ubank dared say, assign me some of your men, he would be lying in the manor’s flowerbeds before nightfall.

Fortunately, the Skelliger had a quick mind.

“I am a Skelliger. I can raise a band of warriors from the isles. We know the sea, and we trust our own more than outsiders. If I put word out that there’s work, I can gather at least a dozen men.”

“But Skelliger warriors, for all their bloodletting, tend to have a sense of honor. How do you intend to make them steal children? Even as pirates, if they encountered a slave ship, they would attack it regardless of the cost. Frankly, if you worked in front of them, I think they would split you open with axes first.”

The middle-aged man’s interest sharpened.

“A pirate ship does not sail with Skelligers alone. Once we have broken open the situation, I will arrange the sort of mead feast Skelligers love most. Pirate feasts always end with deaths, my lord, and warriors are usually the first to die...”