The Tavern and Gwent

Under the cover of night in Kaye Village, ninety percent of the villagers had extinguished their lamps. Men held their wives as they slept, while children gazed at the sky outside their windows, counting sheep. Thompson, the night watchman, took up his torch and, girded with a rusted steel sword, began his patrol around the village to drive away potential beasts or bandits, or to sound an early alarm.

The only places ablaze with light were the village chief's house and the dilapidated tavern in the center of the village—the Old Captain Tavern.

Occasionally, energetic men who had yet to marry or have children would come here to pass the time, drink a little wine, and if the mood struck, call upon the bearded tavern owner, One-Eyed Jack—a man who loved to boast about his days at sea in the Skellig Islands—to play a round of Gwent.

Inside the Old Captain Tavern, under the glow of candles and the hearth, five or six figures sat scattered about.

Roy stood before the Gwent board, his eyes sparkling as he looked at the pile of exquisite cards.

These were genuine Gwent cards!

Gwent was originally invented by dwarves to pass the time, but thanks to its simple rules and varied, interesting gameplay, it quickly conquered everyone. Whether they were nobles or commoners, everyone loved to play a few rounds after a meal to satisfy their craving.

The faces of the Gwent cards borrowed from the images of popular legendary figures among the folk.

For example, Emperor Enzhir of Nilfgaard, King Foltest of Temeria, King Demavend of Aedirn with his crown, the beautiful Queen Meve of Leria and Rivia...

Every Gwent card was meticulously crafted by dwarves using superb techniques; the illustrations and materials were impeccable, making them basically impossible to forge. There were even rarer ones, crafted by dwarven masters, that could be called miniature works of art.

Ordinary Gwent cards sold for one or two Crowns, and one could find a few in grocery stores here and there, while some rare cards could buy a house in the Aedirn capital of Fangerburg, though few collectors were willing to sell them.

However, Roy had observed for a long time that while Nilfgaard, Northern Realms, and Skellig decks had appeared in the matches, he hadn't seen a single Monster or Scoia'tael card. All Monster cards were very rare, and as for the Scoia'tael...

In the current timeline, the Northern Wars had not yet begun, and the Scoia'tael, who helped Nilfgaard attack Northern humans in the form of commando units, had not yet made a name for themselves, so naturally, there was no Scoia'tael deck.

It was estimated that only after the Northern Wars would the Scoia'tael deck be expanded into the Gwent pool by some dwarven master.

"Little Roy, why aren't you sleeping soundly at home in the middle of the night, running off to the tavern instead?" One-Eyed Jack's large, hairy hand was about to land on Roy's head, but the latter dodged it with a nimble sidestep.

Roy gave a fawning smile; he was only thirteen, after all, so acting cute wasn't shameful as long as it was effective. "Uncle Jack, I'm waiting for Brandon. He promised to treat me to some fruit wine tonight." In reality, he was there to fulfill a promise to teach Brandon a simple magic trick he had learned from the internet before crossing over.

But now, he had an idea for making money. As an old player of The Witcher 3, one could never escape the fate of Gwent addiction.

One-Eyed Jack's weathered, wrinkled face revealed an ugly smile. "That little fatty steals money from home to drink every few days. It's a good thing I specifically watered down his fruit wine, otherwise old Fletcher would have smelled the alcohol on his breath long ago and tanned his hide. Don't you go learning his bad habits!" As he spoke, a glint flashed in his single eye, and his hand deftly threw a pale-colored Gwent card onto the board.

At the same time, his opponent's face turned pale as well!

"Take my Frost! Melee units back to one! Haha, 35 to 20, Old Olt, I won this round!"

"Clatter..." A pile of Copper Coins was stacked by Jack's table.

The farmer opposite him looked sullen. "My luck tonight is stinkier than a salted fish from Covir. I'm done!" With that, he slipped out the door.

Roy seized the opportunity to fill the empty seat, staring eye-to-eye with One-Eyed Jack.

"Find somewhere else to sit. My old pal is almost here, and today I must win until he's bankrupt, not even leaving him a pair of underpants!"

"Uncle Jack, since you're bored anyway, why don't I play a round with you as a warm-up?"

Jack shook his head upon hearing this. "Do you have Gwent cards?" A ten-year-old kid—where would he get the money to collect Gwent?

"In the whole village, who doesn't know the name of Old Captain Jack, the Gwent collector? Your collection is so rich, you must have duplicates. Have a heart and put together a deck to lend me, how about it?" Roy clasped his hands together, looking at him with anticipation.

"Sigh, where did that shy, cute little kid go? Why did you suddenly have the village mason plaster a layer of cement on your face?" Jack sighed, raised his hand as if to slap him, but then seemed to remember something and slowed his movement.

"Consider it a debt... I can lend them to you, but Old Jack doesn't play Gwent without a stake. Let's agree on this: if you lose a round, you have to clean the tavern once."

"And if I win?"

"A reward of 1 Crown."

"Wasn't it 2 Crowns a round just now?"

Under Old Jack's glaring eyes, Roy covered his mouth.

Soon, he received a thirty-five-card Northern Realms Gwent deck: thirty-one of the most common unit cards with a combat strength of no more than 6, and four weather cards. There were no rare hero cards—not a single one.

The Gwent cards felt textured in his hand, the surface feeling smoother than a young girl's skin, making him reluctant to let go.

As for the Gwent cards in One-Eyed Jack's hand, he knew nothing about them.

The game started quickly. At some point, Brandon snuck up to the table, watching from the sidelines alongside a strong man over 6 feet 4 inches (1.9 meters) tall with dark, reddish skin.

The two watched the situation quietly.

At first, Roy played very slowly, tossing his Gwent cards hesitantly, while Jack sat with his arms crossed, looking nonchalant, his moves as fast as lightning.

As expected, Roy lost two rounds in a row.

As time passed, round after round, the situation completely reversed. Jack stared fixedly at the board, his moves becoming increasingly difficult, his face turning an ugly shade of black.

"You little bastard, you're cheating!"

Half an hour later, Jack roared and stood up, his taut facial muscles flushed red, looking like an enraged lion.

However, he was quickly pressed back into his seat by an arm covered in rock-hard muscle.

"Boss, I've been watching for you the whole time. I guarantee the kid isn't cheating!"

Pusig looked certain, though a hint of a smile he couldn't hide played at the corners of his mouth. He enjoyed seeing his old superior, who always beat him, get frustrated!

Roy looked gratefully at the red-haired, red-faced, sturdy man.

This guy was Pusig, the blacksmith who lived in Kaye Village and repaired farm tools for the villagers. Roy had heard that Pusig used to be a sailor on One-Eyed Jack's ship, and the two had operated a cargo ship together in the Skellig Islands. After Jack retired, he followed him to settle in the countryside of Aedirn. But he wasn't a local; he was born and raised in the Skellig Islands, and his temperament was very straightforward and bold.

"Little Roy, you should thank the horse that bumped into you!" Pusig patted him on the head. "You used to be like a delicate little girl, but now you finally have some manly spirit."

Back to Gwent: in half an hour, over eight games, One-Eyed Jack had lost five. A "fortune" of 5 Crowns had piled up in front of Roy, an amount that would take an apprentice over a month of work to earn.

"Unbelievable. By the great Goddess Melitele, does she really favor this brat so much? My hand was two tiers better than his, yet I still lost five games. This can no longer be explained by skill alone."

One-Eyed Jack remained unwilling to accept it, glaring fiercely at Roy, who wiped away a bead of non-existent sweat, secretly wondering if he had been too reckless.

He was indeed cheating, still utilizing his Storage Space. Every time, he would imperceptibly hide two weather cards in the space, then quietly swap them back into his hand at the perfect moment during the Gwent match. Freezing the combat strength his opponent had worked so hard to accumulate was incredibly satisfying.

"I'm just lucky!" Roy tried his best to keep his tone steady. "In the realm of Gwent, no one is more favored by the Goddess of Fortune than I am."

"Damn it!" Jack slammed his fist hard against the wall. "If that wretched thief Sasha hadn't stolen my 'Mysterious Elf' a few days ago, you would never have beaten me!"

Sasha?

Hearing this name, Roy was visibly stunned for a moment. He suspected he had encountered this character while playing the game, but he couldn't recall it for the life of him.

At this moment, the chubby boy Brandon rolled his eyes and said loudly, "Sasha, is that the woman who rode her horse into Roy last time?"

Upon hearing this, One-Eyed Jack suddenly deflated. "Forget it. If I hadn't been chasing that woman, she wouldn't have panicked and crashed into Roy. I won't hold today's events against you."

Roy suddenly understood. No wonder Jack said he owed him earlier and agreed to play Gwent with him. The root cause was that the rare Gwent card in One-Eyed Jack's collection had attracted the female thief, which led to him being hit by a horse and assimilated.

"Little Roy, come back and play with me at this time tomorrow. I don't believe you'll have beginner's luck forever. Sooner or later, I'll catch you cheating!"

Roy readily agreed. Having earned 5 Crowns in just half an hour, what reason did he have to let go of a sucker who delivered himself to his door? This old captain's Gwent addiction was no smaller than that of those dwarves who gambled away their entire fortunes.

Brandon also joined in the fun, tugging at his sleeve. "Roy, Roy, hurry and teach me the magic trick." As he spoke, he pulled a handful of fragrant, sweet-smelling yellow snacks from his pouch and stuffed them into Roy's mouth.

"Mmph... these are pork rinds, are they good?"

"Fletcher renders some lard into snacks every time he kills a pig. If you teach me the trick, I'll bring you snacks every day."

Looking at Brandon's innocent, chubby face, Roy smiled and couldn't help but reach out to smooth down a tuft of hair sticking up on his head.

"Let's get started quickly; we still have to go back to sleep in a while."