Serious person, who is learning magic in Marvel?

"So, can't you go somewhere else to drink? Or just buy some?"

"cannot."

Jonathan shook his head: "The official from the city government issued a death order and no one is allowed to sell us alcohol within these three months. And the pubs in the city have remembered the faces of the three of us. Let alone drinking.

, I can’t even get in. As for buying and selling..."

He sighed: "That's even more impossible. We are too famous in the local area. Every store that sells alcohol knows us, and they also know the order. We can't go to the Temple District to drink bars? We guess we will be able to go there.

Got robbed. And I don't think they would sell it to us."

"They dare!"

Zoltan cursed loudly, his beard was blowing: "A bunch of scoundrels! Last time I went there, forty oren was stolen, which is not a small amount of money. If I catch those scoundrels again, I will kill them."

Get their asses smashed!”

Geralt noticed that every time Zoltan got emotional, his dwarf accent would come out, which made his words even funnier. The witcher couldn't help but burst into laughter, which attracted Zoltan's attention.

Ertan stared at him inexplicably.

"Why are you laughing?" He touched his beard and asked puzzledly. "Even though I am a tavern owner now, I have joined the army! I am a retired veteran! You don't believe it, do you? Come and compare with me!"

"No, I believe you are absolutely capable of doing this."

Geralt instantly put on a serious face, and his vowing tone made Zoltan narrow his eyes in comfort, and smiled again: "That's pretty much it."

"Anyway, that's the situation." Jonathan concluded. "We won't be able to drink for at least three months, at least until the official forgets about it. Three months, ah, my God. Three months.

..."

He covered his head in despair: "I'm a member of the Wine Tasting Association! If I don't drink wine for three months, my taste buds will degenerate. Then I will no longer be able to taste the Beauclair Blanc 1235 and 1236 in an instant.

There’s a difference, this is my unique skill!”

Noticing Geralt's puzzled look, Fanny spoke up, annotating Jonathan. The female elf spoke slowly and leisurely.

"Well, you don't know. The packaging of Geralt Beauclair Blanc 1235 and 1236 are very similar, at least to the layman. But the selling price is fundamentally different. Because of the weather, the 1235

The brewing was not very successful. But for the 1236 batch, they used a new still, and the taste has improved a lot."

The female elf's expression was so fascinating that Geralt could imagine the fragrance blooming on his taste buds. And her next words only intensified this reaction.

"Did you know? The fruity aroma will explode on the tip of your tongue the moment you enter the mouth. The sweet and sour flavor is like the reviving wind of spring. It is crisp and refreshing, but after swallowing, it will linger in your mouth.

The real flavor blooms in the back of your throat.”

"A touch of bitterness." Fanny nodded and kept swallowing her saliva. "The finishing touch, a masterpiece - that bitterness is endlessly memorable, Geralt."

Her description made the throats of the three people present quiver, and Geralt couldn't help but talk. He was an alcoholic to begin with, and he couldn't make any concessions compared to these three people, so he made a decision.

Facts have proved that Geralt may be able to refuse to go to the brothel, but he absolutely cannot refuse to drink.

"Where can I buy it?" He asked excitedly with his cat eyes sparkling. "I'll go! They don't know me!"

----------------------------------------

Half an hour later, he and the dwarf Zoltan were standing outside the patrol camp in the trading area. The two of them were sneaking around, and they were no worse than thieves. In fact, they were here to be thieves.

Geralt lowered his voice and asked: "Are you sure there is no other place in the city that sells the 1236-year-old Beauclair Blanc?"

"I'm sure, Geralt. It's absolutely true." Zoltan also lowered his voice. "This batch of wine is currently only available in my tavern in Vizima. It is exclusive to the Wine Tasting Association and can be enjoyed by others.

Less than a mile. Alas, if I had known better, I would not have signed this agreement with the Beauclairs..."

He scratched his head in annoyance: "Only authorized, sold separately, now I am harming myself."

"All right."

Geralt's throat moved up and down again, and the female elf's description echoed in his brain, constantly - echoing.

I must drink that wine, tonight, tomorrow, in short, I must drink it, otherwise I will not feel at ease even if I die. Geralt thought.

He swallowed and quietly entered the patrol camp with Zoltan and the other two.

On the other side, He Shenyan was drinking with Andrea in another tavern in the trade area. It was relatively quiet, which may have something to do with the requirement written by the owner on the sign outside the door: No noisy guests would be tolerated.

This also made it easier for him to talk to Andrea.

The mage raised a full glass of Vizima Champion. This is Vizima's specialty beer. It has a mellow and rich taste and is extremely suitable for appetizing - an appetizer for drunkards. Ordinary people should not learn to drink it. Vizima Champion

The cup is a special one with a diameter of 20 centimeters. One cup can fill some people who are not good drinkers.

He drank half the bottle in one go, but what was placed in front of Andrea was a glass of milk. This made the female apprentice look depressed.

"Why don't you let me drink?" she asked puzzledly. "You can drink it!"

He Shenyan raised a finger to signal Andrea to wait. He raised the cup again and drank the rest in one go. Then he leaned back on the chair with satisfaction and exhaled.

"Because you will get drunk." The Master said. "And I won't."

"You have double standards!" Andrea retorted angrily. "And I know how to sober up!"

"Using something like this while drinking is no different than cheating, Andrea."

He Shenyan said something lightly, and at the same time motioned with his eyes to the waitress who had been staring at him for a long time to bring him a new bottle of wine. With his smile alone, he made the waitress blush and give him a side of French fries.

"Thank you." He Shenyan smiled and watched the waiter go away, then picked up a new cup of Vizima Champion, but did not drink it. "Andrea, I am glad to see that you have not been changed by this world."

He stared at the beer thoughtfully: "This is the best thing. You are still practicing your original intention of learning magic. I am very happy to see this. You did not choose to enter the palace or play around.

You are not trying to dominate the world. You are just doing good things and doing small things..."

"It's not as exaggerated as you said." Andrea blushed at his praise. "I just feel that the poor are pitiful and I want to help them."

"Really? Don't you think they are bringing it upon themselves? Because they are poor because they are not diligent enough and don't work hard enough? Look, if poor people had two houses for rent, wouldn't they be poor?"

"What are you saying?" Andrea asked in confusion. "Even if it is sarcastic, what you said is too..."

It took her a long time to hold back a comment that was not a curse word: "It's out of touch with reality."

He Shenyan smiled and said nothing more. His eyes turned to the window, where a white-haired man held three bottles of wine under his arm, and a dwarf with a wine bottle in his pocket were running wildly on the road behind them.

, there were several guards who were chasing after him, shouting curses behind him.

He kept watching them go away, the smile on his face slowly getting bigger and bigger - then he stood up and drank the Vizima Champion in one gulp.

"That's it for tonight, Andrea, I guess you need some rest too... See you tomorrow, my apprentice."

"See you tomorrow, teacher."

----------------------------------------

"Geralt!"

Zoltan's breathless voice came from behind the witcher: "Ahead... ahead - ahead - turn left! Run!"

Geralt's hands were tightly tied with the six bottles of wine, and they were discovered by the guards - as it should be. This is what happens when operating with dwarves. They are not good at this kind of infiltration. Fortunately, they were in the process of evacuating.

Those who were discovered in the process would not return without success.

Following Zoltan's guidance, Geralt turned left and entered the alley. Zoltan's footsteps were still behind him. The dwarf might have short legs, but he definitely didn't run slowly. He gradually couldn't hear the soldiers' shouts.

The sounds and curses stopped, which made the witcher breathe a sigh of relief.

They ran several hundred meters again, and then they stopped, covered in sweat, and leaned against the wall, sitting down along the wall without any image.

The two looked at each other and suddenly burst into laughter.

"Geralt! Geralt!" Zoltan laughed and was even more breathless than when he ran away just now. His breathing sounded like a broken bellows. "Ah, my beard is up! We all did it.

What?"

"We—" the witcher swallowed. "—we did something stupid."

"Yes, something stupid." Zoltan nodded, and the laughter couldn't stop bursting from his throat. "It's so damn stupid! I don't even know how to deal with the official who comes to the door tomorrow! Ah!

, those soldiers definitely saw our faces!"

"What should I do? Give the wine back?"

"Go to hell!" Zoltan flatly refused. "This is my wine! Give it back? Impossible! Come on, let's go back to the tavern. We won't get drunk tonight! I want the Wine Tasting Association to quit.

Wine? No way!"

"They can eat my farts!" the dwarf yelled vulgarly. "Wine! Drink! Let's go!"

At this moment, a filthy curse came from above the wall they were leaning against. It was in Elvish language, to the effect that a useless horse that cannot pull a cart would stay awake in the middle of the night and disturb other people. Curse you to get smallpox!

Geralt stood up calmly and pulled Zoltan towards the other end of the alley. The dwarf was still asking: "What did that man mean? I could tell it was Elvish. Was he scolding me?"

them?"

"No, Zoltan, he is showing his respect for us."

"real?"

"real."

－－－－－－Digression－－－－－

There is one more update.