With a few inquiries, Witt found the location of the village outside the city.
It had originally been an empty stretch of land where traveling merchants from various countries could stable their horses and pile up supplies. As Ban Ard Academy rose to prominence, people with nothing to do in the surrounding villages came over to make a living, and over time, a village gradually took shape. It earned the name Blackwater Village from the filth constantly discharged from Ban Ard, which flowed through the village.
Students who dropped out of Ban Ard Academy or were expelled never had to worry about their prospects. The various intelligence organizations serving the Northern Kingdoms almost all had an agent or two in Blackwater Village, so it had a better-known name: the Village of Spies.
As soon as Witt entered the village, several gazes from the shadows greeted him. The people of Blackwater Village were not particularly surprised to see a witcher, but they were curious about why he had come.
After all, any information could be traded.
Under everyone's gaze, Witt headed toward the village tavern.
On the open ground outside the tavern stood a caravan flying a black flag with a gold-and-red mountain design. It was the national flag of Aedirn.
Business at the tavern was dismal. Even at dinnertime, there were few people inside. It seemed that word of the succubus had dealt the tavern a heavy blow.
That was hardly surprising. Even the boldest spies were ordinary people, and some might even have visited the succubus and now feared they were cursed.
"A cup of Aedirnian ale and something to eat." Witt found a table and sat down. He did not want anyone to know he had come from Ban Ard, so he had deliberately taken a detour and entered the village from another direction.
"Witcher, I only have Kaedweni beer in my tavern. If you want ale, go ask them." The tavern keeper set down a plate of mutton boiled until tender and spoke without expression.
"A witcher?" Hearing someone mention the ale they sold, the members of the caravan from Aedirn turned to look.
Compared with the Kingdom of Kaedwen, the Kingdom of Aedirn, known as the Land of Spring, was relatively friendly toward nonhumans and witchers. This was not merely because its pleasant climate also attracted many monsters that needed witchers to deal with them.
Its geographical position between Mahakam and Dol Blathanna also meant that, however much its king wanted to exclude outsiders, the birth of mixed-race children was inevitable. This was another latent problem within Aedirn.
Presumably, no one would want to take up arms against their own half-elven grandfather.
While Witt was considering whether to hold his nose and swallow some Kaedweni beer, a bearded man from the Aedirnian caravan came over with a cup of ale and placed it on his table.
The man's full beard was so carefully groomed that it did not look untidy at all. His clothing was also far from ordinary. Although he wore a loose cloak to shield him from the sun, the splendid tunic beneath it seemed to announce his exceptional status to everyone around him. He was certainly no ordinary member of the caravan.
"How much?" Witt asked, preparing to pay. Before parting ways with Geralt, he had taken a dozen or so crowns from him in case of emergencies.
"My treat, friend." The bearded man casually sat down across from Witt and pushed the ale toward him.
"How much?" Witt remained unmoved.
The bearded man glanced back at his companions in the caravan and smiled. Before he could speak, someone from the caravan called out, "Just take it, witcher. This is none other than... Selkirk of Gulet. He's not short of money! Haha!"
Witt took out a crown and set it on the table, then lifted the ale and drank deeply. The slightly bitter aroma of wheat slipped down his throat, leaving him refreshed. He could not help exclaiming, "Ah! Now that's a drink." Then he drained the rest in one gulp.
"Exactly. That's why ale makes up the largest part of our cargo. Witcher, that hearty drinking alone deserves another cup on me!" As he spoke, the man called Selkirk waved behind him and had someone bring over two more cups.
Witt waved him off, however, insisting that he accept the crown. "People back home used to say that free things are the most expensive."
Selkirk looked taken aback at first, then burst out laughing. "Hahaha, you're right! Witcher, are you from Novigrad, then? I imagine only people there would say something like that."
"I'm Selkirk of Gulet. And you are?" He held out his right hand.
"Witt of Lyria. Witcher." Witt shook Selkirk's hand.
He did not mind showing friendliness to others. It seemed that the farther he went from northern Kaedwen, the better witchers were treated.
Selkirk's eyes lit up when he heard that Witt came from Lyria. He withdrew his hand, but instead of taking the crown, he took out more money and placed it before Witt, revealing his real reason for approaching him.
"Witt, my friend, your understanding of the value of things interests me greatly. Now I'd like to buy some information from you." Selkirk's expression was sincere, but his eyes were full of pride. He looked like someone who had never heard the word "no" from anyone.
Although Witt did not know the true identity of this "Selkirk of Gulet," the man's extraordinary clothing, along with the swords and blades visible beneath the cloaks of those who were nominally merchants but actually guards, told him that Selkirk was no ordinary figure.
"Let's hear it." Witt did not know what the man had come for.
"Well..." When it was Selkirk's turn to speak, he grew awkward. After hesitating for quite some time, he finally said, "I heard that a succubus seems to have come to Blackwater Village. Ahem... Our caravan happened to be passing this way, so we stopped by to have a look."
Witt suppressed the urge to spray out the ale in his mouth and thought he had given the man too much credit.
Witt had assumed the man was either searching for an illegitimate royal child who had left home or arranging a secret marriage alliance. He had never expected him to come all the way from Aedirn for a reason like this.
It seemed the man held a rather exalted position in Aedirn and was even somewhat known in Kaedwen. Otherwise, he would hardly have gone out of his way to disguise his party as a caravan.
"Witt, as a witcher, you must know what this sort of... monster likes... No, I mean its habits. You know their habits, don't you? Such as where they like to live? What they like to eat? Things like that."
"..." Witt was speechless for a moment, but he still shared some information about succubi with him. Naturally, none of it concerned the monster's preferences.
Then Witt added tactfully, "Selkirk, you do know this is a monster, don't you? She isn't human. Mating with her won't give you any offspring."
Witt had yet to encounter a term like "reproductive isolation" in the witcher world, so he could only put it that way.
To his surprise, Selkirk put on a stern face and said solemnly, "Witt, by my goddess, how could you think that of your friend? I'm not after offspring, nor am I looking to... with a monster. I merely read about this creature in a book and grew curious."
Witt no longer knew what to say. All he could do was reply, "All right, but I'd still advise you not to harbor any fantasies about these monsters. Consider that advice a gift."
"No, Witt, take this money. I want to hire you to help me find her, to find this angel who embodies the highest love and desire." Selkirk spoke with deep feeling.
"May I ask what that book was called?" Witt suddenly asked.
"'The Succubus of Mya Street.' Would you like to read it? I left it in the carriage. I'll fetch it for you." His eyes seemed to shine.
After thinking it over, Witt decided to accept Selkirk's commission and dispel his fantasies about succubi.
"There's really no need. I'll take the commission, but I have to make something clear beforehand. My friend, you wouldn't want that succubus implicated in a murder, would you?" Witt asked with a smile. As he said this, something else came to mind.