novelhk Chapter 76 An Encounter at the Kingfisher Tavern
Chapter 76 An Encounter at the Kingfisher Tavern
Chapter 77 An Encounter at the Kingfisher Tavern
At the docks of Novigrad, dockworkers carried containers across the pier, chanting slogans as they went. The port streets were lined with goods from all over the world.
Sailors were carrying a basket of oranges off a merchant ship, the peels still bearing the deep orange hue of the southern sun. Nearby, stalls displayed Redanian wool, Corviel salt bricks, and Skellige whalebone carvings, which clattered together on the counter.
A group of witch hunters walked down the street, their armor gleaming with the Holy Symbol of Eternal Fire. They casually shooed away the crowds blocking their way. An old woman selling fish moved her stall back, lowered her head, and only looked up again after the group had passed.
Ron and Erwin walked through the market, and before long, a gray rock building appeared on the street corner with a gilded sign hanging at the entrance: Bank of Vivaldi.
Several well-dressed merchants were standing in front of the door, waiting in line. Erwin slowed his pace and adjusted his glasses.
"The Vivaldi Bank, a business of a dwarf family, was already a mainstay of the banking industry when the legendary King Desmond of Temeria was still a child."
The current manager of the Novigrad branch is Vimo Vivaldi, a renowned dwarf banker known in the financial world for his honesty and professionalism. He is the one who built the Novigrad branch into the largest bank in the city.
In the bishop's square, beside the stake, a guard was using a brush to clean the oil stains on the stone pavement. These were marks left by burnt fat, and no matter how hard the brush went, it wouldn't come off completely, leaving only pale yellow marks.
Across the square, at the entrance of the Kingfisher Tavern, several guests wearing silk coats were pushing open the door and going inside.
The tavern was very well decorated. It had a wide hall with polished brass oil lamps hanging from the ceiling, which bathed the entire hall in a golden halo.
Several oil paintings hung on the walls, all depicting the scenery of the port of Novigrad. The stage inside the tavern was empty, with only a lute and a bar stool on it. The air was filled with the faint scent of oak and the buttery aroma of toasted bread.
Erwin gave his name to the bartender, and soon a man of considerable age came down from upstairs. He had thinning hair and a gray beard, but his eyes held a shrewdness honed from years of dealing with people.
He glanced at Erwin, then turned to Erwin's back, where Ron, dressed as a guard, stood with a calm expression. The man then looked away and smiled at Erwin.
"Nice to meet you, Professor. I am Olivier, the owner of Kingfisher. Let's talk upstairs." He didn't ask who Ron was, but deliberately arranged a seat in a direction where he could see Ron.
Ron found a spot against the wall on the first floor and glanced around the hall. Several men dressed as businessmen were discussing the front-line battle in hushed tones, while two guests next to him were arguing about the different flavors of Toussaint red wine, their serious tones making it seem as if they were discussing something of great importance.
At this moment, the stage lights came on, the noise in the hall slowly subsided, and a young woman walked out from backstage, sat down on a high stool, and placed her lute on her lap.
Her long, golden hair shimmered softly under the lamplight, her fingers glided across the strings, and the prelude was very gentle, like the morning mist slowly dissipating over the Pontal River.
"Old wounds yearn for gentle touch, lingering tenderness, disregarding astrological signs and destiny, a torn heart, you mend with love, this intertwined fate, you and I together atone."
Her voice was clear and soft, with a barely perceptible tremor at the end. Several guests stopped drinking, leaned back in their chairs, and narrowed their eyes slightly.
The only sounds in the tavern were the lute and the pusilla's singing. As the last note faded away, the hall was quiet for a few breaths before applause erupted.
Priscilla, holding her lute, bowed slightly. Her golden hair slid down, obscuring half her face. Before the applause had completely subsided, a middle-aged woman in an old apron stood up from the crowd and pointed to a white-haired man in the corner.
"It's him! I saw him in White Orchard! He killed several Temurian lads! He's a murderer!"
A stir ran through the crowd. Some turned to look at Geralt, whispering amongst themselves. A richly dressed nobleman frowned. "If you want to argue, go outside. Don't spoil everyone's enjoyment of the music."
The female customer next to them also spoke up, her tone flat: "It's wartime now, so killing people isn't something hard to understand."
Just then, footsteps came from the direction of the stairs. Ron came down the stairs, and several guests who were close to the stairs instinctively moved their chairs back.
"Geralt, you always seem to get into trouble wherever you go."
Zoltan turned to look at Geralt, his eyebrows raised high. "A friend?"
Jero nodded. "Yeah, but now's not the time for catching up. We need to go find Priscilla." At that moment, Priscilla peeked out from behind the curtain and waved to Jero.
Ron followed Geralt and Zoltan through the crowd and into a room at the back of the Kingfisher Inn.
Priscilla leaned against the wall, first looking at Ron, then the light fell on Geralt. "You're Geralt, aren't you? Dandelion has told me many stories about you."
"Yes," Geralt said, "I'm looking for Dandelion; he's gone missing. I think you might have some clues."
Priscilla nodded and lowered her voice, "Geralt, you're looking for Dandelion. I don't know where he is now, but I know what he did in the end."
She took a deep breath. "The last time I saw him, he said he was going to rob Sigir Reuven's vault." Geralt's lips twitched. "Dandelion robbing? I'm more inclined to believe he's chosen a life of asceticism."
"I don't believe it either, but it's true," she paused.
"Of course he probably didn't succeed, at least I didn't see him bring back the gilded carriage loaded with jewels. After that he disappeared. I inquired about his whereabouts everywhere, and the only news I got was that he caused a great disturbance in Hawthorne II's stronghold and was hunted down by Hawthorne's men all over the city."
"Hawthorne II...never heard of him," Geralt repeated the name. Priscilla's voice deepened. "One of the four major forces in Novigrad's underworld: Clifford of the Cleavers, the Beggar King of the Rottenwood, Sigir Luwen of the Bathhouse, and Hawthorne II."
Zoltan's beard was taut. "So you mean Dandelion is in his hands?" Priscilla shook her head. "I only know that the last time he was seen was on Hawthorne's territory, and then there was no news of him."
Geralt was silent for a moment. "Don't worry, I'll save him, but first I need to meet with Hawthorne and Sigir Ruven. Where are they?"
She looked at Geralt: "I don't know about Hawthorne, but Sigir Luwen's bathhouse is in the Gildorf district, south of the St. Gregory Bridge. It's easy to find."
Ron leaned against the wall, listening silently until the end. "So, Geralt, can you explain this? I originally wanted to buy a tavern and check out the warehouse, but now I've heard about a bank robbery and a gang chase. And who is Dandelion? What do we need him for?"
Geralt shrugged. "Dandelion is an old friend of mine, the most troublesome bard in all of the North. Ciri contacted him when she was in Novigrad, so he might know where Ciri is. I need to find him first."
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