Chapter 163: Letho
In the drawing-room of Orianna's mansion, the noblewoman, Orianna, gently swirled a glass of eau de l'est (wine from the East), an elegant expression on her face.
"Witcher, I'd heard of your profession, but I'd never actually met one. Now, suddenly, so many of you are appearing."
Lynn chuckled. "There aren't as many of us in the south as there are in the north. The north is our primary area of operation."
"Please forgive my abrupt visit, Madam Orianna," Lynn continued. "I heard you recently posted a contract to retrieve an elven master blacksmith from the underground sewers?"
"So direct? Very well," Orianna said, setting down her glass. "Yes, that's correct."
The witcher looked directly into the noblewoman's eyes. "Could you tell me more about it?"
Orianna didn't immediately answer, instead offering a cryptic smile. "Young witcher, you just recently returned dusty and exhausted from retrieving the Holy Grail for Her Grace. Are you already throwing yourself back into work? Won't you rest for a couple of days?"
"Or perhaps, have the gold coins Count Raymond rewarded you with already run out?"
Lynn wasn't surprised that she knew about this. In fact, he would have been surprised if she didn't. Which of these nobles didn't have informants in the palace? Every move within the palace was under their watchful eyes. Of course, conversely, the palace also had ears among these nobles. This situation wasn't unique to Toussaint either.
Furthermore, to fulfill Lynn's promise to the Lady of the Lake—to expand her influence in Toussaint—he hadn't stopped Sir Maximus from vividly recounting the "miracle" to others in the palace. Naturally, rumors of the Lady of the Lake's manifestation spread faster than falling leaves carrying news.
Lynn answered honestly, "I heard a colleague of mine took that contract. I'm hoping to get some information about him."
Orianna recalled, "Ah, the mysterious witcher who wished not to be named. Yes, he took that contract from me, but that was many days ago. He hasn't returned, and I don't know what he encountered in the underground sewers, or if he's even still alive. If you're willing, you can also try going into the sewers to see if you can find him. Just bring back that elven master blacksmith, and I'll only give the reward to the person who completes the task."
"However, there's only one reward for this contract. If he returns before you, I'll have to give the reward to him. If both of you return together, then you'll simply have to split the reward."
Having received the information he wanted, Lynn immediately stood up and nodded to Orianna. "Thank you for your help."
He then left Orianna's mansion.
Plop.
The sound of a body falling into the water was particularly jarring in the vast, silent underground sewers. Lynn flicked the blood from his Mastercrafted silver sword and kicked another dead nekkers' body into the water.
Beauclair was a city expanded upon elven ruins, so this vast underground sewer system was, naturally, an elven creation. Unlike humans, who habitually dumped waste into large pits, the elegant, noble elves chose to build an extensive underground drainage system to address sanitation issues.
It had been three days since Lynn left Orianna's mansion and entered the underground sewers. So far, he had only explored two-thirds of the entire system. No Beauclair resident knew how vast these sewers truly were. And no one had ever ventured down there, except for Thanesel, the elven master blacksmith, who had gone looking for his apprentice, kidnapped by the sewers' nekkers.
Finding a relatively clean corner, the witcher sat on the ground and began to meditate. Conventionally, a city's sewers should be a drowner habitat. But Beauclair's sewers had become a nekkers' nest.
"No wonder that elven master blacksmith's apprentice was kidnapped."
Contrary to popular belief, nekkers are actually intelligent creatures. They know how to camouflage themselves with dyes and clothes, and they're clever enough to set traps. In the past three days, Lynn had discovered more than one nekkers' trap. Crude, yet insidious. Enough to kill any rash individual unaware of the dangers in the sewers.
Just then, Lynn's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively grabbed the Gwyhyr, the ancient sword forged in Mahakam.
Shing!
The blade slid partially out of its sheath, its bright gleam piercing the darkness.
Clang!
The sound of steel clashing echoed in the dimly lit sewers as two steel swords collided, then separated. A pair of gleaming cat eyes stared fixedly at him, like a venomous snake.
"Hmm, I didn't expect to run into a colleague here. Did you also take Orianna's contract to find that elven master blacksmith?"
"No, I came specifically for you, Master Letho." The Superior Cat potion granted Lynn the ability to see in the dark. Lynn looked at the bald, burly man standing before him, who appeared slightly younger than he remembered. He then noticed bandaged wounds on the man's body.
But clearly, they weren't healing well. He frowned. "You're injured?"
"Just a minor scratch, nothing serious," Letho said in his gravelly voice.
But it was clearly not a minor scratch. Without thinking, Lynn tossed something over. Letho caught it. When he saw what was in his hand, he was momentarily stunned. The Viper School excels in using poisons and alchemy, so Letho immediately recognized it as a bottle of Superior Tawny Owl decoction, capable of stopping bleeding, healing wounds, and repairing damaged bones and internal organs in a short time. And judging by the color and concentration in the bottle, it was clearly not an ordinary Tawny Owl decoction.
Because witchers generally live impoverished lives, contrary to popular belief, most witchers don't always carry a full backpack of potions. Having a few potions is considered good. Many witchers would rather tough out an injury than drink a Swallow potion. Some have never even seen a Tawny Owl decoction, which is more effective than Swallow.
Letho proactively sheathed his steel sword. "Did you give me the wrong potion? Or are you in trouble and need a helping hand?"
"Are you always this suspicious?" Lynn also sheathed his Gwyhyr. "You're a witcher, and I'm a witcher. Witchers are supposed to help each other, to be united and friendly, aren't they?"
Letho was about to let out a sarcastic laugh. But he didn't. The palpable weight of the Superior Tawny Owl decoction in his hand constantly reminded him that the other person had provided not just words, but tangible action.
He hesitated for a moment, then finally pulled out the stopper and drank the potion. The effects of the Superior Tawny Owl decoction were evident. A cool sensation quickly spread from his wounds, dispelling the intense pain that had been bothering him. Letho's rock-like expression softened slightly.
"I'll work with you now. After we rescue that elven master blacksmith, you'll take seventy percent of this contract's reward... I don't like owing people favors."
"One more thing. You just said you came specifically for me?"
What do you think Letho's reaction will be when Lynn explains why he specifically sought him out?
.....
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