Wizard: This witcher is neglecting his duties.

Chapter 42 Idle Chat in the Tavern

Wayne was still dressed as a traditional Witcher, in a dark blue-black light armor of the Wolf School, similar to half-body chainmail with thick leather overlays, which was quite stylish and practical.

A black leather belt was wrapped around his waist, with a pouch, a dagger, and a potion bag attached to it. A fine steel sword with a black scabbard hung on his right belt, and the Wolf School's iconic wolf head emblem was hidden inside his armor.

His fully armed attire, combined with his tall and strong physique, dark golden short hair, and amber cat-like eyes, made him look like a formidable swordsman.

When he entered the Fox Tavern, his completely different appearance immediately attracted the attention of the owner and the patrons, even quieting the noisy atmosphere in the tavern for a moment.

However, the residents of Vijma were far more knowledgeable than the farmers in the countryside.

Although they were watching Wayne with wary eyes, whether openly or covertly, no one made any rash moves. They all pretended to be nonchalant, drinking and bragging.

As a witcher, Wayne was used to all sorts of strange looks. He ignored the stares of the patrons, walked up to the tavern owner, and gently tapped the wooden bar.

This was a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties, with short, uneven black and white hair. A long, narrow scar ran across his left cheek and upper and lower lips, making him look like a veteran who had survived a battlefield.

Wayne met his gaze, glanced at the various liquors in the cabinet behind him, and the fresh game hanging on the counter with ropes, and said:

"Old York, bring me a Vijma beer and some rabbit meat."

The middle-aged owner, whom he called "Old Guest," glanced up at him, his lips moved, and he said in a hoarse, flat voice:

"Fifty copper coins."

"Guest, please pay first, that's our rule."

Wayne nodded upon hearing this, but he didn't have any small change like copper coins on him. He took out an oren from the purse in his waist pouch, placed it on the bar counter in front of the tavern owner, and said:

"One Oren, and at this price, get some beef too."

The shopkeeper reached out and took the Oren coin, weighed it in his hand to confirm it was genuine, and his expression softened slightly as he said:

"Please find a seat, sir. Your food and drink will be served shortly."

Wayne didn't say much. He looked around the tavern, found an empty table with few people, sat down, took off his steel sword and placed it on the table, and sized up the other patrons.

Seeing that he didn't do anything unusual, the other patrons in the tavern all looked away and resumed their drinking and boasting, and the atmosphere quickly returned to its previous noisy state.

Five or six minutes later, a woman in her thirties with a limp carefully placed beer and barbecue on his table.

Wayne glanced up at the woman's face, then his expression shifted as if he had thought of something. However, he didn't react immediately. Instead, he picked up his knife and fork and began eating while listening to the conversations of the other people in the tavern.

In the Middle Ages, information was scarce, and apart from official announcements, most ordinary people knew very little about new information.

Taverns like these, with their dense crowds and diverse mix of people, are important channels for many to gather intelligence.

In this respect, the Witcher's superior hearing has a natural advantage, which can help Wayne obtain a considerable amount of information.

Just now, at a table not far from him, two men dressed as workers were chatting.

The young worker was physically strong, but his expression was somewhat depressed. He looked at his coworker next to him and asked with a hint of frustration:

"Hey Jason, did you hear?"

"After the new Vijma is built, everyone who wants to live in the new city will have to go to the city hall to pay a land purchase tax in order to obtain a piece of land and build their own house."

"They've divided the entire new city into three zones, with land prices varying drastically in each zone. Not only do we have to buy our own land, but we also have to pay for the construction of our own houses. This is clearly an attempt to completely separate the poor from the rich!"

The worker, Jason, who was around forty years old, said dismissively:

"Isn't this only natural? Do you expect the king to pay for your house?"

"It is already King Foltest's mercy that we were not made to pay taxes for the construction of the new city."

"I heard from the nuns at the Meritelli Church that the area suitable for us to live in is called the Temple District. The Meritelli Church will also build a new church there, and about 80% of Vijma's residents will live in the Temple District."

"There is another district called the Trade District, but only nobles, wealthy merchants, and those respectable rich people, such as the king's officials, can afford to live there."

"That's good too. Living separately from those arrogant big shots and those cunning businessmen will make us more comfortable."

The young man scratched his head and complained in a low voice:

"But I just got married to Lisa, and all the money I saved up is gone. Where am I going to get the money to buy a house in the new city?"

"Lisa is pregnant now, so I'm the only one working. I want to save enough money to buy a house, but I don't know how long that will take."

Jason glanced at his troubled friend, softened his tone, and comforted him:

"There's no rush, Rota. It will take at least one or two years to complete New Vigema. The city hall will only be responsible for building public facilities and city walls. We'll have to pay for our own houses."

"You can borrow some money to buy a piece of land first, just to reserve a spot. You can build the house slowly later when you have more money."

"Don't you know a little carpentry? You can work for a construction team. They're short-handed, the pay is pretty good, and it'll be easy to find a job."

"If all else fails, we can spend some money and rent someone else's place. We can't stay in Vijma Old Town any longer. Aren't you afraid Lisa will disappear in the middle of the night?"

Upon hearing this, the young man seemed to have come to a realization, and he said in a firm tone:

"Yes, Lisa is the most important. I'll find someone to sell this dilapidated house tomorrow. No matter how many coins I get, I'm moving to the new city first. Even if I live in a shack, it'll be safer than here."

Jason seemed pleased with the young man's attitude and said:

"No need to look for anyone else, Rota. I've already bought a plot of land in the temple district. I don't have the money to build a house yet, so let's set up a tent for now. It'll be safer with more people. I won't charge you rent."

Upon hearing this, the young man, Rota, was overjoyed and said with a smile:

"Jason, thank you. You're a true friend. When I buy the land, let's see if we can be neighbors. This drink is on me, please don't be shy."

After that, the two started drinking and bragging, taking turns drinking and talking about meaningless trivia.

Wayne looked away and glanced at another table not far away, where three men dressed as mercenaries, armed with weapons, were drinking. One of them, a burly man with an ugly face, a full beard, and rotten teeth, muttered something under his breath:

"Damn, things haven't been going well lately!"

"The shitty king sent his army into the forest and set up many outposts along the way. We're watching so many fat sheep roaming right in front of us, but we don't have a chance to strike. It's so damn frustrating."

Upon hearing this, another bald man with several scars on his face immediately reprimanded him:

"Fuck you, Rotten Teeth, you can shout even louder so the farmers around can hear you and then go and tell on us, so the guards can hang us."

"But before that, I'm going to cut off your penis first, and then stuff it into your ass."

Another middle-aged man, thin and with a sleazy appearance, immediately smiled and tried to smooth things over between the two, saying:

"Scarface, Rotten Teeth, don't be angry. We're all brothers. The boss sent us to the city because he has an important mission for us."

"Don't let something trivial delay the boss's mission."

The burly man called Rotten Teeth snorted, knowing he was in the wrong, and didn't argue with the scarred man. Instead, he asked the skinny man:

"Rat Eyes, have you found your target?"

"There are so many caravans in the city now, and they need guards everywhere. It should be easy for us to infiltrate one of them."

The skinny man, nicknamed "Rat Eyes," looked around warily, then whispered:

"I've got my eye on a wealthy businessman who's in the high-end tableware business. Lately, the rich people in those upscale neighborhoods have been building new houses, and high-end tableware is selling like hotcakes."

"This wealthy businessman is planning to hire a group of guards to escort a shipment of goods he brought back from the floating port. It should be very valuable, which meets the boss's requirements."

"That wealthy businessman is scheduled to depart in three days. I've already bribed someone to get the three of us into the escort team."

"We'll let the boss know when the time comes. If we work together from the inside, we should be able to make a killing."

(End of this chapter)