The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Chapter 125 Conversation with Yennefer

In the early morning, before the fog had completely dissipated, the port of Kael'thas was shrouded in a thin veil. The masts of the ships in the port protruded from the fog, like withered tree trunks floating in the air, and a few seagulls circled at the top, adding a touch of life to the port.

The market was already set up, and the air was filled with the strong smell of salted fish and damp fur. The islanders were haggling loudly, and the stalls were piled high with freshly caught cod, bundles of animal hides, and rough ironware.

Ron glanced at the busy fishermen and remarked casually, "The scenery of the archipelago is indeed magnificent, but there's always an underlying sense of desolation."

Geralt walked beside him, his deep voice carried on the wind: "The islands have a complex ecosystem and a changeable climate. Many areas are rugged and barren, making them quite desolate. Compared to the mainland, it is much more difficult to cultivate the land here. Only some islanders can seize the opportunity to plant some crops in the warm summer. However, the main livelihood of the islanders still depends on fishing, herding, hunting, trading, and robbery."

Ron raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the Witcher. "Wow, Geralt, you've changed my opinion of you a lot. I thought all you had in your head were monster encyclopedias and sword oil recipes."

Geralt remained expressionless. "Witchers can live a long time as long as they don't die at the hands of monsters. The longer they live, the more opportunities they have to learn different kinds of knowledge, although they don't use it most of the time."

"That's hard to say. It came in handy today, giving this outsider a valuable geography lesson."

Geralt paused for a moment. "Ciri spent a lot of time here when she was little. She was very good friends with Halma and Kerris. Because of her, I know a little about Skellige."

Ron nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

Ahead, the outline of Kael'dra Castle gradually came into view. The two followed the stone steps upwards, and when they reached the vicinity of Kael'dra Bridge, Geralt stopped. Two women were standing in front of him.

One of them was wearing a black and white striped dress, with black curly hair draped over her shoulders. Even from a few steps away, Ron could smell the fragrance of lilacs and currants wafting over.

The woman standing opposite her wore a dark long dress and a silver hair ornament symbolizing her status. She had a dignified appearance, but her eyes and brows revealed an air of arrogance.

As Ron and Geralt approached, the two stopped talking and turned their gazes toward him. The purple-eyed woman's gaze lingered on Geralt for a moment before moving to behind him.

"Geralt, who is this?"

"Yennefer, this is my friend, Ron," Geralt stepped forward and introduced.

Yennefer nodded slightly. "Hello, Ron. This is Birna Bran, King Bran's widow."

"Now you are the Queen Mother." Birna raised her chin, her tone reserved. "It's a pleasure to meet you, but unfortunately I have other matters to attend to today and cannot chat any longer. Please forgive me."

She nodded to Yennefer, but as for Ron, he didn't seem to deserve her attention. She didn't even give him a second glance before turning and leaving.

"Are you talking about something important? Did we interrupt you?" Geralt asked, watching Birna's retreating figure.

"Still those boring topics," Yennefer said, rubbing her temples in exasperation.

"She's been trying to win me over with all sorts of nonsense, like the islands need to change their system, that a stronger leader is needed in this chaotic situation, that the islands shouldn't have an election system, and that a hereditary system would be more suitable for the current situation. She wants me to support her son, Svanridge Tursek, to ascend the throne. But Geralt, you know, I don't want to get involved in this mess."

Ron stroked his chin with interest. "Hereditary succession is indeed a good choice from the perspective of stable rule, but other families may not think so. Moreover, the Little Skellige Island controlled by the Tursek family is simply not strong enough to suppress most of the opposition. If nothing unexpected happens, this is destined to be just her wishful thinking."

A hint of surprise flashed in Yennefer's eyes. "I've heard of you before, but I didn't expect that a powerful mercenary leader would have such a clear understanding of the political situation in the archipelago."

Geralt looked at Ron, and when Ron nodded, he tilted his head toward the bridge and led the two to a secluded corner.

"Geralt, what's the matter that you have to come all the way here to talk about?" Yennefer asked, puzzled.

"Ye, do you remember I told you I met Keira in Velen?"

"Hmm, I remember. You were hired as a warlock advisor by the lord of Velen. What happened?"

"That lord is Ron," Geralt paused, then continued, "and now he has two more sorcerer advisors. You're probably familiar with their names: Margarita and Shel."

Yennefer's eyes widened instantly, filled with questions. "Margarita? What happened to her? Wasn't she in Aretusa? How did she end up in Velen?"

"Margarita, Sheer, and their students were all captured by Radovid's witch hunters and imprisoned in the Bullburg jail," Ron explained calmly. "I rescued them, and they are now safe in my territory."

Yennefer took a deep breath and re-examined the person before her. "A local lord, choosing to shelter members of the Guild who are wanted by both Redania and Nilfgaard—why would you do that? The risks involved are considerable."

Ron chuckled and joked, "Wow, Geralt, I bet you're under a lot of pressure being around such a smart and perceptive lady."

Geralt shrugged helplessly, earning him a disapproving glare from Yennefer.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't questioning you," Yennefer said, her expression softening. "No matter what, Margarita is a good friend of mine, and I'm very grateful that you helped them."

"It's alright, I'm Geralt's friend too, no need to be so formal." Ron glanced at the sky. "But I can't delay any longer, I have an appointment today."

"That little girl, Kairis, right?" Geralt smiled. "Having known you for so long, I'd forgotten that you and Kairis aren't that much different in age. But you two have similar personalities, so you should get along quite well."

Ron smiled, didn't reply, and turned to walk towards the gates of Kael'dra Keep.

Karis was leaning against the door. Today she had changed out of her leather armor and was wearing a blue belted dress with the Clayt family crest embroidered on the neckline. She looked less sharp and more dignified, but her eyes still revealed her competence.

"Karis, you're here so early?"

"You're a guest, so of course I have to arrive early. I can't keep you waiting." Kerris glanced at Ron, a beautiful smile curving her lips.

"Let's go. Today is the last day of the vigil. Halma and the others are inside. They all want to see you and confirm whether you are as amazing as Halma boasted."

Ron followed her into the hall of Kel'Thuzad.

The hall has a high dome, and the beams are stained a dark brown. Huge tapestries depicting naval battles and hunting scenes hang all around.

Long tables stretched out along both sides, laden with grilled fish, smoked meat, and bread. The air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat and the sweet scent of mead. Guests from various families crowded around the tables, their noise making the beams hum.

"Haha! Ron, over here, come quick!" Halma waved to Ron from a distance, standing on a stool.

Ron walked over, and there were several men sitting next to Halma. They were not very old, but most of them were burly. Their eyes were on Ron with curiosity and scrutiny.

"Halma, is this the mercenary captain you were talking about who wrestled with the giant?" a burly man with a thick beard asked.

"Yes, that's him! Ron, let me introduce you to the guest," Halma exclaimed excitedly, slapping the table.

"This is Habjorn, son of Blackhand Hogger; the one holding the wine barrel is Alan Lugo, the eldest son of Madman Lugo; and the one gnawing on dried fish is Olig Inda. These are the heirs of various families in the archipelago."

Habujorn stood up. He was almost a head shorter than Ron, but he had broad shoulders and a torso as strong as a bear. He squinted at Ron, his eyes filled with a defiant look.

"Hey! Big guy, you look like a tough guy. Wonder how much you can drink?"

Kairis circled around from behind Ron, standing between the two. "Habryan! This is my guest, show some respect!"

.

Habujorn took an exaggerated half-step back, his hands forming a gesture of surrender. "Oh dear, the little sparrowhawk is angry!"

He winked at the people around him, "I just noticed, why did Kairis change her clothes today? Aha, could it be that our little sparrowhawk has finally met a man who makes her heart flutter? This is big news!"

The people around immediately joined in the commotion, whistling incessantly. Someone tapped their wine glass on the table, the thuds particularly clear. A faint blush rose on Kairis's cheeks, and her hand was already on the short sword at her waist.

Ron stepped forward, picked up a wooden cup full of liquor, slammed it heavily on the table, and slowly curled his lips into a smile. "You guys drink from this thing? It's too cumbersome. Why don't you just get a barrel?"

Habuyon paused for a moment, then turned to look at Alan Lugo beside him, grinned, and with the excitement of being challenged, got up and told people to bring over several large barrels of mead.

The thing that Skellige men hate most is being mocked for their poor drinking capacity, so they decided they had to drink this boastful inlander under the table today.

"Haha! Who's afraid of who? Come on!"

"How could I be left out? Come on over!" Halma excitedly joined in.

Habuyan lifted the barrel and poured it into his mouth. Ron lifted the entire barrel with one hand, tilted his head back, and gulped it down. Seeing this, the others also lifted their barrels and drank wildly without showing any weakness.

The guests in the hall gathered around, cheering loudly and grinning as they watched the spectacle; the cheers were so loud they almost lifted the roof off.

As the entire barrel of wine was quickly downed, Otteg and the others rolled their eyes and slid under the table. Habujon, halfway through his drink, suddenly covered his mouth and turned into a fountain, vomiting uncontrollably as he lay on the bench. Halma also swayed as he sat down, hiccuping with dazed eyes.

Ron tossed down the empty barrel, wiped his mouth, and stood there watching the group, his breathing perfectly steady.

A huge cheer erupted in the arena. The islanders pounded their wooden cups, chanted his name, and raised their glasses in a toast to Ron's retreating figure.

Kerris stepped forward and looked at Ron with concern. "Ron, are you alright? Please don't mind them. Those guys are just like that. They're not bad people, they just can't keep their mouths shut."

Ron shook his head. "Karis, I'm fine. This little bit of alcohol won't get me drunk. Actually, drinking with them is quite enjoyable. At least there aren't so many hidden schemes and conspiracies."

"Let's go. I promised to show you around Kel'Thuzad, but we've been delayed for so long." Kerris turned around, the blush on her ears not yet completely gone.

"We went to the watchtower, which is the most beautiful place in all of Kael'thas."