Geralt usually did not choose to camp in the wilderness; it was too conspicuous. Besides, a Witcher's special senses allowed him to enter a meditative state, letting time pass quickly while keeping him alert to his surroundings. Whether he camped or not made no difference—he could simply kneel on the ground, close his eyes, and a night would pass.
But there was a Mage with him now. So, not long after they set out again, just past noon, Geralt planned to find a clearing in the woods and make camp. But He Shenyan disagreed. He watched Geralt dismount and take the bedding from his horse with a puzzled expression, then asked, "What are you doing?"
"Making camp."
"Are you tired?"
Geralt's hand stopped. "No."
"Then why don't we keep going?"
So they set off once more. Along the way, Geralt asked, "I thought Mages tended to tire more easily."
"Sometimes, Geralt. By the way, where are you planning to go?"
"Novigrad. We'll spend the winter there, and see whether there are any contracts in the city I can take. Fair warning: most contracts in that city are probably in the sewers."
He Shenyan did not respond to the Witcher's subtle warning. He merely turned to look at a round mirror that had appeared abruptly on the trunk of a tree in the forest, raising an eyebrow.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. Let's keep moving."
They traveled through the coastal woodland, avoiding the main roads and weaving between smaller paths. Along the way, Geralt dealt with quite a few Drowners. These blue-skinned Monsters had sharp fangs and claws, and they stank to high heaven. But for Geralt, they were nothing more than a few swings of his sword. If they had not blocked the road, he would not even have wanted to draw his silver sword against them. Repairs were expensive. Even with a gold bar, he did not want to waste money. Killing ten Drowners might not even cover the cost of repairing a sword once.
He Shenyan rode that sturdy black horse the entire way, and Geralt looked at it with envy more than once. A fine horse like that would likely sell for more than five hundred Crowns in Novigrad, while a Griffin was worth only two hundred Crowns—and that did not include the cost of sword oil and potions.
Two days later, after traveling without making camp, they arrived at Novigrad's gates in the early morning. This port city, known as the Pearl of the North, was grand and magnificent. Its unbroken walls guarded it firmly, and many country folk visiting for the first time might need half an hour just to accept that a city like this existed in the world.
Not only that, its buildings all had beautiful red brick roofs, and its streets were not covered in mud like those in towns and villages. The roads were paved with bright bricks, and merchants hawking their wares could be seen everywhere. There were five gates alone, while the city itself held twelve brothels and thirty-five inns.
Amid the crowded stream of people entering the city, Geralt asked,
"Well? This is the Pearl of the North. Have you ever been here before?"
The Black-Robed Mage merely wore an ambiguous smile. Neither disparaging nor praising it, he said in a rational tone, "No, Geralt."
"But it is indeed grand and prosperous. I can tell just from the length of this queue. This city must earn an astronomical number of gold coins every day."
The Witcher nodded. "There's a country saying: even vegetable sellers on the streets of Novigrad earn a hundred Crowns a day."
As he spoke, he shrugged. "But if that were true, nobody would need to do anything else. I could sell my swords right now and start selling vegetables."
The Mage said seriously, "If that is the case, then be sure to come find me. I can conjure clean water to keep your vegetables fresh."
As they spoke, the line gradually shortened, and soon they reached the city gate. Two guards stood on either side of the entrance, holding halberds and wearing gleaming armor. One of them saw Geralt, lifted his visor, and greeted him. "It's you, Witcher. Remember me?"
Geralt nodded. "Of course, Clarkson. I hope your wife is doing well."
The guard grinned. "She's much better than before! If you hadn't helped me find that medicine, I really wouldn't have known what to do. Go on in! Is this your companion?"
He Shenyan nodded as well and offered a polite smile. The two rode into the city. Geralt tugged his reins and moved closer, whispering, "You'd better keep a close eye on your belongings. The thieves here are famous all over the world too."
The very next second after he said that, an Elf in a pale yellow dress ahead of them had something snatched from her hand. She spewed an endless string of creative curses and gave chase. The culprit did not get far before two guards who happened to be patrolling there pinned him to the ground. After taking back her belongings, the Elf still was not satisfied and kicked him twice, both strikes landing dead center. The guards hurriedly stopped her. "Madam! Calm down! He will be judged according to the law."
Only after the Elf left did the two guards help the groaning man from the ground and take him away.
Seeing this, He Shenyan said, "I do not think that was theft."
"Of course not. That was robbery."
"Then how many days in prison will he be sentenced to?"
Geralt scanned the notice boards along the street as he answered, "According to those in power, Novigrad is a 'free' city. Anyone has the right to live here, including gang members. That man you just saw was probably one of them. So I'd guess he will not be imprisoned at all. His companions will probably bail him out soon enough."
"It certainly sounds free."
They rode all the way to a spacious square crowded with people coming and going. At its center stood a statue of scales, with a fountain beneath it filled with coins. Geralt led him to the edge of the square, where a Dwarf stood waiting against a wall with his arms crossed. Beside him was a row of stables. Seeing customers arrive, the Dwarf's face immediately broke into a smile, and he greeted them warmly in a booming voice. "Hello! Guests! Looking to board your horses?"
Geralt nodded and tossed ten Crowns from his pocket. The Dwarf caught them neatly with one hand, still smiling. "All right, two horses, ten Crowns, two days. No problem, guests?"
The two dismounted. The Dwarf whistled, and two Dwarf attendants in cloth clothes ran out from the stables and led their horses away. The Dwarf who had taken the money handed Geralt two round iron tokens. Both bore the words Murray Stables on the front, while the backs were marked with the numbers 10 and 9. The Dwarf said, "Then please return for your horses in two days, or pay to keep them here longer. If you do not return after two days, we will keep them for one additional day."
After parting with the Dwarf, Geralt straightened his worn leather jacket and said, "So, are you coming with me for a nice hot bath, or are you going to look around by yourself?"
He Shenyan naturally knew what the Witcher meant by bathing. He nodded. "Meet here at seven tonight."
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