Edersberg

The towering city walls, over thirty meters high, formed the last line of defense in the southern Kingdom of Aedirn: Edessberg.

Laelia and Livia guarded its eastern flank, while the Mahakam Mountains formed a natural barrier to the west. Edessberg's terrain made it easy to defend and difficult to attack, posing a major obstacle to Nilfgaard's northern campaign.

In front of the fortress flowed a man-made moat. A heavily guarded bridge crossed it and led into the city.

People streamed across the bridge: farmers heading to market, caravans loaded with goods, and travelers from afar. They queued for inspections, while behind them, dozens of small villages dotted the vast countryside, supplying Edessberg.

"Letho of the School of the Viper?"

"That's right."

"Behave yourself once you're inside. We've got enough trouble with the rebels lately. Don't cause any more, understand?" The soldier, holding a halberd in one arm, gave the big man a suspicious once-over. His gleaming breastplate bore an emblem made of a red and a yellow right angle stacked together.

It looked like a flaming arrow—the coat of arms of the Kingdom of Aedirn.

After checking the big man's pass, the soldier turned his gaze to the slight figure behind him. "Is this child with you?"

"That's right."

"What is he to you?"

"His name is Roy. He's my employer, from Kaye Village in Xiabosada. He's come to Edessberg to look for relatives."

"Hmm..." Perhaps Roy's delicate features and slight build didn't seem particularly threatening. The soldier asked no more questions and let them pass.

Roy, a country boy, had entered the otherworld's great city of Edessberg for the first time. Revolutionary forces were in full swing, but they had done little to diminish the city's usual prosperity and bustle.

Beyond the towering city gate lay a lively commercial street. Hawkers' cries filled their ears, colorful shops lined their view, and a steady stream of people swept past.

Even the shortest houses here were taller and more luxurious than the village chief's house in Kaye Village. Most had pointed arches, carved windows, and high, spacious domes.

Their walls were adorned with intricate, flowing patterns, so exquisite they looked like works of art.

Roy, already somewhat accustomed to the quiet of the wilderness, was momentarily transfixed. He felt as though he'd arrived in Europe after the Renaissance.

But Edessberg would be invaded by Nilfgaardian forces in the First Northern War. How much of this splendor would survive?

Letho shook his head, thinking the big city's bustle had left Roy awestruck.

They walked along the street beyond the gate. The view suddenly opened up, and then something caught their eyes.

In the middle of the cobbled road stood a small fountain plaza.

At the center of the fountain, on a stone pedestal, stood a seven-meter-tall statue of an old man. He wore simple robes, had a wise gaze, and sported a thick beard.

People stood around it, chatting animatedly. Most held books and seemed to be discussing academic matters. They were dressed far more finely than ordinary townsfolk, wearing hats and delicate accessories. Even their shoes were carefully polished, spotless.

Nearby, fully armed soldiers patrolled in squads.

"Who's that statue of?"

"Prophet Lebioda, the embodiment of vast wisdom. He has many followers in Edessberg." Letho added without emotion, "Most of the people gathered here are merchants or the children of minor nobles. The common folk are still struggling to make ends meet."

Roy quickly searched through the memories in his mind. He'd read up on Prophet Lebioda before. At first, he'd just been a wandering orator, traveling about and spreading his philosophical ideas and wisdom. His extraordinary charisma and eloquence had won him countless followers who admired his words and beliefs. His fame throughout the Northern Kingdoms was tremendous. Not only humans, but even dwarves revered him.

Over time, he came to be honored as a saint, a prophet, and a seer. Many years after his death, he was even worshiped as a deity in temples dedicated to him.

Speaking of religion, Roy couldn't help thinking of a notorious church from the future. "Isn't the Church of the Eternal Fire the most famous religion in the north now?"

Letho patiently explained, "The Eternal Fire is mainly popular in Temeria's capital, Vizima, and the Free City of Novigrad. In recent years, its doctrines have grown increasingly prejudiced against nonhuman races and more extreme. It has many supporters, but it's also despised by plenty of humans, as well as nonhumans like dwarves and elves."

Roy knew that after the iron-hearted Radovid was crowned, all of Redania would be bathed in the light of the Eternal Fire. By then, the Eternal Fire wouldn't just discriminate against nonhuman races like dwarves and elves; Witchers and sorcerers would also be hunted down.

But that was still years away.

"Edessberg lies next to the Mahakam Mountains, the dwarves' homeland. Dwarves bring the mountains' ore and other goods into the city to trade in bulk, forming a powerful faction," Letho said. "They won't allow the Eternal Fire to take root on their doorstep."

"That's not so bad," Roy muttered. "Where to now?"

"We've been on the road for a week. Let's rest in the city for a few days and see how things look."

Edessberg's city center, Wols Tavern.

Letho ordered a whole row of fine liquors in assorted colors with impressive gusto: Dwarven spirit, Cherry wine, Mandragora wine...

A dozen or so glasses lined the table. He drank them slowly, savoring each sip, closing his eyes in contentment and breathing in as though enjoying the finest delicacy.

Only now and then did he open his amber eyes to scan the noisy crowd in the tavern.

Laborers, farmers, small-time merchants, and petty thugs all came here to enjoy themselves, regardless of status.

And where was Roy?

As soon as he entered the tavern, Roy felt his craving stir.

His Gwent addiction had kicked in!

He took out the Skellig deck Old Jack had given him and went over to a table where people were shouting and playing cards.

With a Witcher bodyguard at his side, he dared to show off his skills.

"Hey! You've lost this round. How about letting me take your place?"

"Get lost, kid!" A middle-aged man in a headscarf glared at Roy scornfully—until Roy revealed a pristine Gwent deck.

The rare cards drew every player's gaze like magnets.

Their eyes instantly grew hot with greed, as if they were looking at a lamb that had wandered straight to them.

Roy took a seat and smiled faintly, his words full of temptation. "Want my rare cards? You can have them all! Let's play. I'll put every card I own on the table and wait for you to win them!"

This time, he planned to win a little extra money. Living in a big city wasn't cheap.

"With a great hand like this, plus my wealth of experience... and a few subtle tricks."

Meanwhile, after nearly twenty cups of liquor—each a liter—Letho's face had taken on a faint flush.

Even a Witcher with superhuman stamina grew glassy-eyed after being battered by liquors of every strength.

But no one knew if he was really drunk. Even he couldn't tell.

The sword on his back and catlike eyes kept most ordinary people at a distance. Some looked at him with disdain, but none dared approach and bother him.

Letho's build and appearance were simply too intimidating. Everything about him said, "Don't mess with me."

And not everyone was like the bandits outside the city, willing to risk their lives to provoke a Witcher.

Except for one kind of person.

A woman sauntered over to him, striking a pose as she went. With the ease of an old acquaintance, she slipped an arm around the bald man's and whispered something in his ear.

"Kid," Letho suddenly called out to the crowd. When Roy turned around, startled, Letho grinned, showing a row of white teeth. "How about you wait downstairs by yourself for a while?"

What could Roy say? He nodded helplessly and watched the two head upstairs, leaning against each other.

The woman had unusual taste, being interested in a bald muscleman. No, she'd probably caught the scent of Crowns on Letho.

"He doesn't even know to keep it down in front of his apprentice." But on second thought, Roy could understand. In just one week, they'd killed Drowners and slaughtered more than a dozen people outside the city.

It was only natural to feel stressed and need a way to unwind.

Roy chose Gwent; Letho chose liquor and women.

That was all.