Chapter 208: The Beggars' Guild
With each word the witcher spoke, the Duchess's daughter's face grew a shade paler.
By the time Lynn finished, Syanna's face was utterly ashen, devoid of all color.
"You bear the Black Sun curse. Whether this curse truly has an effect or not, as long as the majority believes it does, then it is effective."
"How powerful is this curse? It's powerful enough to turn you from a Duchess's daughter into a commoner, or even public property."
"No palace doors will open for you anymore; no one will bring you food when you're hungry, or clothes when you're cold."
"Nor will anyone prepare bathwater for you that's neither too hot nor too cold, but just the right temperature."
"You'll never again hear strict, old-fashioned, but loving nannies tell you bedtime stories, or give you warm hugs when lightning and thunder scare you senseless."
"You'll even be worse off than the mud-bloods born into commoner families, at least sorcerers won't drag them into towers and cut them open."
Syanna slumped on the bed, her face like death.
"What should I do?"
Lynn's tone softened, and he gently said, "It's simple: just like the common people living in this world, accept the fate heaven has arranged for you."
"Compared to them, you are still fortunate, because your grandmother has left you a fortune large enough for you to squander for a long time, and a witcher willing to patiently explain all this to you."
...
A few minutes later, Lynn withdrew from the room.
He had just imparted a huge amount of information to Syanna.
Now, Syanna needed some time to digest it.
So, Lynn was leaving her space and time.
He walked straight to the room at the end of the corridor.
But he noticed there were no marks on the door.
So he moved a bit closer, to the second to last room.
He saw a small, combined flower and shield emblem on the door.
He lightly knocked four times.
"Who is it?"
A woman's voice came from inside.
Lynn didn't state his identity; he immediately spoke the contact code.
"All Hail Nazair!"
The door opened.
A woman with a scar on her face stood behind the door.
"Sir."
She moved aside, letting Lynn in, then peeked out, quickly scanning the corridor to ensure no one was outside before retreating into the room and gently closing the door.
Inside the room, the remnants of Nazair's national intelligence organization, "The Syndicate," who had previously agreed to serve Lynn, were all gathered.
Before leaving Toussaint, Lynn had informed them to rendezvous in Caed Myrkvid and leave Nazair's royal emblem as a mark on the door of their inn room.
After Lynn entered, the people in the room subconsciously stood up.
He surveyed the room.
Finally, he sat on the only chair in the room.
"Sit."
But no one else moved.
They all looked to Drake with inquiring gazes.
Only when the scarred woman nodded.
Did everyone else sit down, some on the bed, some on the floor.
Next, Lynn chatted with them for a while.
Mainly asking if they encountered any problems on the way.
But no matter what they talked about, they didn't get to the point.
So Drake couldn't help but ask, "Sir, what exactly do you want us to do?"
"We're still far from Novigrad. Once we arrive, I'll naturally arrange work for you."
"But if possible, I'd like to hear about the job content first," Drake glanced at the others. "My subordinates and I share the same thought."
"Alright, if you insist..."
Lynn's mouth twitched.
He knew they hadn't given him their full trust yet.
However, he then thought.
Anyway, he would have to arrange it for them once they reached Novigrad.
So, arranging it sooner or later made no difference.
"You're Nazair's national intelligence organization, aren't you? I need you to establish a spy network in Novigrad, one that answers to me."
Seeing their astonished expressions, Lynn smiled and continued, "Of course, I know it's difficult for just a few of you to establish a city-wide spy network, let alone being outsiders."
"Therefore, my first instruction to you is to recruit beggars and make them the outer members of 'The Syndicate.'"
"Beggars?"
Drake and her subordinates were stunned.
They exchanged glances.
Though no one spoke, Lynn knew what they were thinking from their expressions.
They were probably all thinking...
Had this young witcher's brain been poisoned by too many potions?
If farmers and laborers were the "cornerstones" that supported a nation's prosperity...
Then beggars, who produced nothing and only took, weren't they pure "waste materials"?
They were just wasting food by living.
And recruit them?
Was he out of his mind?
"Do you think beggars are useless? That if a person becomes a beggar, they might as well die sooner?"
Someone retorted, "Isn't that the case?"
"Of course not. Everyone has their value. Thinking they're useless just means you haven't found the right way to use them."
"But what use could beggars possibly be?"
Drake reprimanded, "Nash!"
But Lynn didn't look at the person who had opposed him.
Instead, he gave Drake a half-smile.
He knew that this 'Nash' wasn't some naive rookie.
He was merely voicing the unspoken questions in the hearts of others and Drake herself.
How could someone who fought to the end with Nazair's Great National Army against Nilfgaard, and survived, not even know how to read the room?
"As you said, beggars are useless 'waste materials.' So, do you think most people share your view, or do they hold the opposite opinion?"
"It should be... the same?"
"Alright then, let me ask you a question: When you enter a tavern, or a brothel, and there's a beggar full of sores sitting on the street corner not far outside... would you even notice?"
Everyone present was a professional. Although they hadn't considered it before Lynn pointed it out, due to the limitations of their era, they immediately understood once the witcher brought it to their attention.
In fact, every city had beggars, it was just a matter of more or less.
And no one, whether high-ranking officials or common folk, ever paid attention to beggars.
Many even avoided them like the plague, walking around them, or even outright ignoring them.
As if a single glance would make their eyes rot.
And it was precisely this point that Lynn intended to exploit.
....
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