[Killed a Vodyanoi, obtained Vodyanoi mutagen 25%]! [Killed a Vodyanoi, obtained Vodyanoi mutagen 25%]! [School of the Wolf Witcher Swordsmanship experience +1!] [Quen Sign, Aard Sign experience +1!]
Arwen held his sword across his chest, took an oilcloth from his belt pouch with his left hand, and wiped the blood off the silver blade.
After steadying his breathing a little, he spoke in a low voice.
"Come down. It's safe."
The middle-aged man in green carefully climbed down from the thick poplar before him.
He dusted off his backside and approached, forcing a smile of relief onto his weathered face.
"Oh, kind wandering knight, if it weren't for you, I would have died here."
As he spoke, he bowed, taking the opportunity to kick the Vodyanoi corpse lying on the ground.
"My name is Theodore Reed. I'm a merchant with the Kaedwen Timber Association. May the gods bless you."
Arwen finished wiping his silver sword and raised his head slightly, revealing the hideously pale face beneath his hood, along with his beastlike slit pupils.
"You... you're... a witch... witcher!"
The timber merchant stepped back, his expression filling with fear.
Arwen put away his silver sword, drew the dagger at his waist, and crouched beside a Vodyanoi, prying out its teeth with the small blade.
Vodyanoi teeth were extremely hard. They could be made into small weapons or sold as ornaments.
"What did you say your name was?"
"Theodore... Theodore, Master Witcher."
The timber merchant stumbled over his words.
As Arwen pried out the Vodyanoi's teeth, he said, "Judging by your reaction, you've seen witchers before. Then you should know our rules. I spent quite a bit of effort saving you."
The timber merchant froze for a moment.
He had seen everything clearly from the tree. In the space of just a few breaths, those two vicious monsters had fallen to the ground like dead dogs.
How much effort could that possibly have taken?
"Caw, caw, caw!"
The raven landed on the hilt of the greatsword on Arwen's back. Tilting its head, it quietly waited for Arwen to finish his work, after which it would be time to feed.
The timber merchant looked at the greatsword and swallowed.
As a traveling merchant, he had some worldly knowledge and could read a few words.
The pamphlet Monstrum had explicitly stated that witchers cared only about money and were cold-blooded and heartless. Anyone who failed to satisfy their demands for payment would suffer merciless retaliation.
He was all alone now, too. If he ran his mouth like those unruly country peasants, he really would end up a corpse dumped in the wilderness. It wasn't worth it.
With his right hand, he discreetly shifted the pouch hanging at his waist behind his back.
"Respected Master Witcher, as you can see, I haven't even had the chance to haul this timber back, and money is tight. Couldn't you show a little kindness and consider it a favor?"
Arwen said nothing, continuing to put the extracted teeth into his belt pouch as the smell of blood spread through the air.
Sweat appeared on the timber merchant's forehead. After agonizing for a long while, he finally took off his coin pouch and opened it, revealing the gleam of metal.
"This is all I have."
Arwen stood up and glanced inside. It was all copper coins.
The timber merchant said, "At market rates, a Vodyanoi like this is only worth seventy ducats."
Ducats. Vesemir had told him about them. They were Kaedwen's own currency.
"Heh. Do I look that easy to fool?"
"Eighty! Good heavens, that's already a hundred and sixty ducats for two!"
"Isn't that a little cheap for your life? I even drank a potion."
The timber merchant gritted his teeth. "Ninety ducats. For the sake of every devil and demon, that's my limit! That's all I make hauling this timber!"
"Do you have crowns?"
"Yes. Converted to crowns, that's only twenty-five and a half. But I can only give you twenty-five. That's all I have."
Arwen frowned. "I remember one crown being worth five ducats."
The timber merchant said, "How many years out of date is that? They've long since depreciated. One crown gets you seven ducats now."
"Deal."
Arwen removed his gauntlet inlaid with silver ingots and held out his hand.
The timber merchant paused, then shook his hand. A prickling sensation spread across his palm-the distinctive feel brought about by a witcher's mutations.
Then he took out twenty-five crowns and placed them in Arwen's hand with a pained expression.
Arwen put the crowns away. This counted as his first completed official monster-hunting contract.
He called his mare over. The raven landed on the ground, pecked a strip of flesh from a Vodyanoi's wound, and quickly swallowed it.
The timber merchant looked at the overturned wagon, spittle flying from his mouth.
"Those damned workers, those sons of bitches! Running off and leaving me behind was bad enough, but they even rode away on my draft horse!"
His gaze shifted to Arwen's mare, and his face immediately filled with a fawning smile.
"Witcher, in light of our pleasant transaction, could you help me pull this wagon to the town up ahead? It's not far, just five li."
"A town?"
"Yes, White River Town. The Baron of White River's domain."
"A little town is a baron's domain?" Arwen scoffed.
"Heh, that's where you're uninformed. There's a mine in the Baron of White River's domain that produces all sorts of metals and gems. Who knows how much tribute he sends to Marquess Luitpold Lindenbrog of the Upper March every year? He's a great favorite of the marquess of the Upper March."
The Upper March. A New Account of the Kingdom of Kaedwen had mentioned it. It was the name of one of Kaedwen's territorial divisions.
The Northern Kingdoms' territories had not yet expanded as fully as they had in The Witcher games. There was still plenty of wilderness to open up, though, of course, the main approach was to seize territory from the elves and dwarves.
Kaedwen was currently divided into the Upper, Lower, and Western Marches, the Lakeside March to the east, and the royal domain in the center.
The Kaedwen territory closest to Kaer Morhen was the Upper March.
Arwen held out his open hand, his meaning plain.
Pay up.
Why should any work be done for free?
The timber merchant's expression abruptly soured. Kaedwen had been all warmth while asking for information just now, only to put on a different face now. He muttered, "Sly fox. Miser!"
"Fifty ducats, which is seven crowns. Not a coin more. Any more and I'll lose everything I put into this trip."
Watching the man stamp his feet in frustration, Arwen felt both annoyed and amused.
"Make it five, then. Tell me about the area, too, and once we reach White River Town, point me toward an inn."
At those words, the timber merchant immediately beamed and rubbed his hands together.
"No problem. You really are kindhearted."
Arwen stepped forward and gripped the underside of the overturned wagon with both hands. The strength granted by his [Giant Bloodline] spread through his arms, and with a heave of his waist and abdomen, he set the wooden wagon, weighing over a thousand jin, steadily upright.
The maneuver left the timber merchant beside him staring in astonishment.
If he and his workers had done it, it would have taken at least several hours. It would be nearly dark by then, and in this primeval forest, who could say that some other terrifying monster wouldn't appear?
The timber merchant suddenly felt that those five crowns had been money exceptionally well spent.
The two gathered up the logs that had rolled onto the ground and headed toward White River Town.