Chapter 36

Flotsam is a port town in the Kingdom of Temeria, located in the Pontar Valley, built along the upper reaches of the Pontar River, and surrounded by impassable bushes and forests.

This is an important trade toll station for Temeria, with troops stationed year-round. Any ship heading here needs to pay a trade tax. A large number of merchant ships dock here to buy supplies, which also gives this remote small town near the border of Temeria and Kaedwen a strange kind of prosperity.

Wayne and Geralt disembarked at the port of this small town. After bidding a friendly farewell to the hearty Skelligan Blackbeard captain Visk, they entered the trading town.

The number of residents in the small town is not large, totaling only a few hundred people. There are quite a few members of the elf and dwarf races. Looking at their words and deeds, the non-human races here do not seem to have suffered too much unfair treatment; at the very least, one can still see smiles on their faces.

Among the pedestrians coming and going on the street, there are also many merchants and travelers in gorgeous clothes, as well as sailors with rough skin and rude manners.

Many shops are built along the street, including blacksmith shops, bookstores, clothing stores, etc. Although the sparrow is small, it has all the internal organs.

Obviously, it is precisely because of the large amount of trade on the Pontar River that vitality has been brought to this remote small town.

However, just after entering the town, the old hand Geralt was attracted by the largest-looking tavern in the town. It was a three-story tavern, which looked a bit dilapidated on the outside, but the overall decoration was quite gorgeous, obviously the boss had put a lot of thought into it.

Several young women in revealing clothes, showing a lot of fair skin, were leaning against door frames and windows outside the tavern, seducing passersby with seductive eyes.

Any man knows what kind of place that is.

Geralt was tickled by the eyes of those girls. He poked Wayne with his elbow, showed a slightly lecherous smile, and said with a look that you understand:

"Wayne, let's go to that inn to rest, and wait two days before heading to Wyzima."

"After staying on Visk's ship for so long, my body is numb from lying down, and every day is clear soup and light water; it's time to have a good meal."

Wayne looked at Geralt with a look of contempt.

You don't want to eat something good at all; you clearly want to eat seafood abalone.

Of course, he knew very well what this guy wanted to do, but they were companions, so they had to accommodate each other and could not interfere too much with the other's actions, so he nodded and said:

"Fine, let's rest here for two days, and by the way, see if there are any contracts that can be completed here."

As the first trading town they encountered, Wayne also wanted to go to the tavern to see if he could find a few Gwent masters to add some experience to his Gwent level.

Seeing that Wayne agreed with his idea, Geralt chuckled and walked towards the tavern.

He didn't rush into the tavern, but walked towards the women leaning outside the tavern. In just a few words, he skillfully hooked up with two young girls, put his arms around their waists, and his expression was indescribably happy.

With money in hand, the waist is hard. They directly opened two of the best rooms. After Geralt left Wayne with a meaningful smile, he couldn't wait to hug the two women and go to the second floor.

Wayne looked at the back of the White Wolf with contempt and snorted disdainfully.

As witchers, their bodies have undergone mutations, and their metabolic rate is dozens of times that of ordinary people. In addition to giving them anti-poison ability and recovery speed far exceeding ordinary people, the hormones and the like in their bodies are also several times that of ordinary people.

This also leads to the fact that witchers are in a state of emotional repression all year round and need to vent their desires frequently. Many witchers have strange personalities and are even a bit crazy, which is also because of this aspect.

And a strong body and vigorous energy also make witchers always inseparable from women. Many sorceresses like to find a witcher as a bed partner precisely because of this point.

After parting with Geralt, Wayne didn't go to the room to rest. He was not interested in the mediocre powder in the tavern, but bought a bottle of high-end cherry mead from the bartender, chose a clean seat, and carefully observed the situation around him.

The area of this tavern hall is quite large. As the only large tavern in Flotsam, there are quite a lot of guests dining here at this time.

Merchants, sailors, captains, travelers, local residents, totaling forty or fifty people, sitting together in groups of three or five, joking and bragging, drinking and making trouble, the atmosphere is very lively.

After observing for about three minutes, Wayne found his target. It was a fat merchant wearing a silk robe and a round fur hat on his head.

On his chubby face, his features were squeezed together, looking unremarkable, but the smiling expression at the corner of his mouth was quite approachable.

However, these were not things Wayne cared about. The reason he noticed him was because Wayne had clearly seen an exquisite leather bag containing Gwent cards hanging on the belt around his waist, swaying slightly.

This merchant is obviously also a Gwent enthusiast.

Wayne carried the wine bottle to him, looked at the fat merchant, then generously took out his Gwent cards, put them on the table in front of the merchant, showed a kind smile on his mouth, and asked:

"Sir, wouldn't it be too boring to drink alone? Would you like to play a game of Gwent?"

The fat merchant heard this and stopped the two bodyguards who were walking over from the side seat because Wayne approached.

He looked at Wayne up and down with his shrewd eyes, and finally landed on his amber cat eyes for a few seconds before showing a signature business smile.

He said in a slightly high-pitched voice:

"A legendary witcher, and a witcher who can play Gwent."

"What reason do I have to refuse an interesting gambling game?"

"My name is Dairank Leuvaarden, a merchant from the south. Nice to meet you, witcher."

Wayne didn't talk nonsense, sat directly opposite the fat merchant, took out ten Ducats from his pocket as a bet, put it in the center of the table, but said in his mouth:

"You can call me Wayne, Mr. Leuvaarden."

"I am just a Gwent novice, and I only have quite common cards in my hand. You must show mercy later and don't let me lose too ugly."

Hearing this, the fat merchant nodded kindly, but the smile at the corner of his mouth couldn't help but widen.

He laughed, and said in an enthusiastic but polite voice:

"Small problem, Mr. Wayne. I have also just come into contact with this game. We can chat while playing. I am very interested in the life of a witcher."

(End of chapter)