Novigrad (Part 2)

"Wait." - just as Alan stepped out of the inn, a voice sounded behind him.

Coen caught up with a man, who was carrying a long bundle of cloth in his arms. The later soundlessly gave it to the witcher and retreated.

"Dijkstra works quite fast. He already delivered your swords." - commented Alan while looking at Coen inquisitively.

"I just here to tell you one thing. I'm going to Farcorners of Novigrad. Heard there is some job on the notice board there. When you are free, can as well do some stretching here." - Coen unbounded the cloth and heaved a sigh of relief. It was several weeks since he had this familiar weight and shape in his hands.

"I doubt you will need my help, but still take this." - Alan gave him a simple ring. It was made from pure silver.

In witcher world, silver accessories cost way more than the one from gold. Silver of high purity was a metal used to craft weapons and armor for fighting monsters. Its rarity in the world exceeded the one of gold.

So even if Alan habitually downplayed its value, in the eyes of the witcher this ring turned out to be a precious commodity.

"What's this for?"

"Drop some of your blood on it and you will know." - said Alan mysteriously. It would bothersome to explain everything, after all, it took him several years to finally create the resemblance of high distance communication devices. And even so, it could send only location and distress signal.

It was a failed attempt to create a copy of the Wings of Freedom.

The necklace he once shared with her.

However, the original creation was beyond his knowledge for now, as it used very complicated laws of space and mental magic.

"When you need help, just send me a signal, I will come." - said Alan and after some thought asked another question. - "Do you know anything about the current powers in the city?"

"Naturally, it's not my first time in Novigrad. Okay, let's go find your sorceress, I know you want to save that woman compressed to a figurine. Who is she to you, by the way?" - they both stepped down from the wooden stairs to the stone pavement of the square.

"Just a sorceress I know." - shrugged Alan.

"Oh, really now." - Coen smirked with his usual perverted look of an all-knowing grandpa. Naturally, he knew shit, but whatever. - "But she is quite the beauty, heh. And these boobs, man."

"You are a creep, ancient fossil." - Alan scoffed at him but inwardly agreed. He remembered her as a gorgeous and shy girl.

Suddenly a man bumped into Coen. The witcher gave a look at the noble young guy and barely could hold it in. His face turned red from a significant effort to stifle laughter inside.

"Hmpf!" - the said gentleman raised his nose to the sky and flapped the fan. - "Some villagers in dirty rags waltz in our city with no knowledge of proper etiquette and fashion! How undeserving of my noble presence."

He looked at Coen with a superiority that lasted until their eyes locked at each other. Then it all transformed into a mixture of fear and disgust.

"Whatever you say." - Coen shrugged and turned around. - "I cannot understand those peacocks in stockings and clothes as colorful as my rainbow burp after excessive drinking."

"Among all you said, I'm more impressed with your delusions about innards of your stomach. Can we get to the point already? Novigrad, tell me about it more." - said Alan.

"Well. As you know Novigrad is the largest city of the Northern lands and considered the pearl of culture and technology. It has about thirty thousand people in the populace, so you can imagine the size. Let alone, nearly all trade routes go through here, especially water ones. Docks of the Novigrad are famous all over the world." - Coen knew quite much about the city. Right now he looked more like a native guide than a witcher. Witchers underwent a thorough education since early childhood and were no worse than scholars of Oxenfurt in some areas.

Although the comparison to the later witchers found insulting because of their impractical minds.

"But Novigrad is a boiling pot of powers that struggle amongst each other, that is why it is better to stay low every time you come here. Above ground, we have Temeria and Redania fighting over the city, especially the later, as you could have guessed already. Then don't forget the church and hierarch of the city himself. Temple guards are everywhere here. Although it is yet to come to a direct witch hunt, through the years I can see the tension rising." - Coen and Alan walked through the crowd of the market square. Both preferred to walk around the stalls in search of goods that can help in their uneasy craft. Alan wanted to give his armor for maintenance and some modifications, and Coen lacked alchemy ingredients as of late.

"Got it. What about underground forces?"

"Sorry, my lady, I didn't mean to bump on you... man, you look at her pale face, am I that scary? No, don't answer, I know what you will say. Damn, it's so crowded. Anyway, about underground forces... you need to be wary about Tidecloacks when you are in docks. Although they are not widespread, they are ruthless. It is a band of pirates and convicts from Skelige and as any islanders from there, people of Tidecloacks are real cutthroats. They prefer to kill before talking. But as far as I know, Cleaver and his Crownsplitters hold more influence as of now. But whether it is Gudrun, the leader of Tidecloacks, or Carlo Varese, both can be negotiated with. The other two heavyweights are far more dangerous. I know very little about King of Beggars so no comments there, but if you need information, he is the right man. The actual pain in the ass aside from temple folks is Whoreson Junior. That man is a complete sadist. His gang's main territory is the Bits. As for anything else, I have no idea. Never crossed his path. Try not to provoke the man, it will be a pain in the ass." - finished Coen his long narration.

"You know quite a lot." - Alan nodded while they stopped in front of the smithy. One glance turned expectant mood into boredom. Nothing caught his attention here, and the blacksmith himself reeked of alcohol. His enormous potato nose told stories about many years of decadency.

"If one wants to survive, it is better to know where to step. Believe me, Novigrad is a boiling pot where people disappear or got themselves killed on a daily basis. Let's not be one of those poor sods found drowned in the gutters or cut in pieces on the streets for a couple of coins or wrong word." - Coen took a sword from the wooden rack, tried it, and threw back with clear disregard. These were not weapons for witchers, but some unsophisticated commoners with zero to no training.

"Positive thinking as usual." - Alan snorted outwardly but inwardly agreed with the witcher. For him, a corner of the world infested with monsters might not be as dangerous as Novigrad. He might be strong, but for every hammer, there will be a mallet of more weight.

"Come on, balance is bad, steel smelted badly and even sharpening process handled poorly. You won't even cut a chicken with this lump of metal, smash its bones at best."

"If ya don't like it, buzz off. Like ya can understand the goods!" - cursed the merchant. Coen only gave him a bored look and then just turned around.

The duo walked away, not wasting time on some idiot. It was a question how he could profit and hold business with such inferior goods and poor attitude.

"I wasn't talking about swords, Coen."

"I understood as much." - waved his hand witcher towards a well-maintained house. It was in the corner, hidden by the high fence with several trees planted inside the yard. - "As far as I know the sorceress you are looking for lives here. Stay cautious. Although I'm in no position to comment, my experience told me to exclude anyone with a magic gift from my 'pussy targets'."

"Yeah, Coen, that is you. How was it? Coins, booze, and pussies, that's what makes the world turn round, heh?"

"Exactly! The three rules of life from me, your bro Coen!" - nodded the witcher sagely.

"Oh please, get lost already." - Alan rolled his eyes. - "What bro? You are grandpa at best, grandpa! Ancient fossil."

"You dare! I even shaved my beard after your training method healed the scars! I look like as a youthful man! Even Triss commented on that!"

"Pff... haha... do you need my reminder on her exact wording about you from back then?" - Alan laughed openly at the Coen whose look turned dark.

"No." - said Coen with clear irritation written all over the face. - "I'm done with you!"

"Come on, don't pout like Jaskier." - Alan slapped his shoulder with a smirk. - "On a serious note, do you need some elixirs?"

"Nah, I got the money. Novigrad is full of alchemists and herbal stalls. I can brew them myself." - Coen turned around and left, while Alan looked at the simple iron wicket amidst the green trees and stone wall.

He walked inside unobstructed and felt medallion vibrating because of magic around. Whoever lived here surrounded the house with layers of magical defense.

"You came unannounced, but it intrigues me. Your unique aura that is." - Alan turned around to see who was talking and grew surprised by the visage that was unfolding in front of him in the corner of the inner yard.

Looks like he came in the right place.