Fear

Chapter 302

The rainstorm went on for a whole day and night, but it eventually stopped. The sky was clear, and the sun shone warmly on the land. A gust of cool breeze touched the city.

Wiley Manor.

Corpses covered in white cloth were laid out on the flowerbeds in the center of the yard. Chappelle and his men were checking for clues that might lead them to the murderers.

"Is that everyone?"

"Yes. All fifty-six of them." A young enforcer in chain mail bowed. "All of Wiley Gang's core members, including Whoreson Senior and his son, are dead. The only survivor is the fat lady in the kitchen."

Chappelle covered the body that was cut in half and followed one of his men to another corpse. The corpse's face was contorted in fear, and his eyes were wide as saucepans. It was as if the victim had seen something horrifying before his death.

"Alonso, you son of a bitch. Death finally came for you." Chappelle looked delighted. Alonso had been a menace for decades. The Chancellor of Security of course knew everything there was to know about him.

Alonso himself had committed a long list of crimes, as did the casinos, brothels, and fight clubs he owned. Him and his thugs had taken the lives of hundreds of civilians too. Chappelle had always wanted to bring an end to him, but he was connected to many of the big names in Novigrad. His gang was possibly the strongest of them all. In fact, they were becoming a threat to the church's rule.

He's the one grease spot the Eternal Fire couldn't burn away. With him out of the way, Novigrad's finally going to regain a semblance of balance. "I wonder who's the hero who drove away this darkness."

Chappelle brushed his right hand across the corpse's mouth. A splattering of dried blood stuck on it. He turned the body around and froze for a moment. Chappelle saw a long and slender cut on the nape of the corpse's neck.

He started imagining how Alonso's last moments in life must have been. The killer must have attacked from behind and pierced their sword through Alonso's nape and mouth. Probably held him in the air for a few moments. The wound is clean, and the attack was swift. That weapon must have been made out of something special.

He then thought of the corpses he just checked on. Some were cut in half, some were struck in their vitals, while some lost their limbs and died from excessive blood loss. That's how the killer worked. Or should I say, killers.

"This is not the work of one man." Chappelle took his leather glove off and rubbed his chin. "But not more than six either. They've been hunting down these people, staked out right outside of the manor, and covered their tracks with the rain."

The young enforcer looked shocked. This is unbelievable. "Sir, you're saying five men did… all this?"

Not everyone has the skills to fight off so many enemies all by themselves, unless… "They might be talented mercenaries, assassins, or… they might not even be humans." Chappelle was somehow reminded of the 'bodyguards' Dandelion claimed he hired.

They're professionals, and they don't look human. They have superhuman speed, strength, reaction, and pseudo-spells. These are our prime suspects. "Could it be them?"

"Who are you talking about, sir?"

Chappelle stared at the ground. He didn't answer the question. Instead, he asked, "What about the survivor?"

"She's not hurt in any visible way. Well, a little out of breath, but that's because of her size. She's really lucky to have escaped this." The enforcer thumped his forehead in frustration. "But she can't remember anything. The last thing she felt before she passed out was something striking her from behind."

"Is she a part of the gang?"

"No."

"They killed all the gang members and let a woman live. Odd principle." But that means I can negotiate. At least they're not irrational maniacs.

Chappelle paced around the corpses. One moment he would be frowning, but the other smiling. A long, long while later, he took a deep breath. The Chancellor of Security had made his decision.

"Do you know who the killers are, sir? Give the word, and we shall apprehend them immediately."

"Of course! But you'll have to be the vanguard and possibly lose your life."

"Um…" The enforcer stared at the ground in embarrassment.

There were more than fifty corpses here, and most of them were skilled, powerful men. The thick calluses on their hands proved it. One of them was a sorcerer, even, but he died before he could cast any spell.

The killers are far more powerful than any one of us. There's no need for believers of the Eternal Fire to die meaningless deaths. At least Chappelle didn't want his men to die that way. "Calm down, rookie. Yes, the Eternal Fire shines on all life and drives away the darkness, but…" He said solemnly, "Gang members aren't under its protection."

"Sir, do you mean…" The enforcer was getting an idea of what Chappelle was saying.

"The killer spared an innocent life. This is nothing but an internal feud. The other gangs can deal with this. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Alonso is dead. The businesses he ran are now free for all. The other gang lords are going to fight for them soon. They're taking his treasures, so they're going to deal with the killers as well. They're not about to let someone who can take out a whole gang that easily run around as they please.

"Cleaver, Bedlam, and Orloff will contact the killers before we do. We're in no hurry." And the church might stand to gain something out of this.

"Smart move, sir."

"Don't just stand there. Did you search the manor?"

"Everyone else did."

There should be something in there. "Did you find anything else aside from corpses?" Part of Alonso's wealth should be here. If the church can get it, then we can share it with more believers.

"Well, they did stumble upon a chamber, but…" The enforcer had a weird look on his face. "There's only a crate of bizarre, useless poems."

Huh.

***

Spear's Pit. The most famous brothel in Novigrad. The people loved it, and it was one of Wiley's assets. The brothel was usually open all day long, and it would be packed with people looking to release their lust, but for some reason, it was closed that day.

Hundreds of gang members formed a blockade outside the ivory-decorated entrance. They chased away the customers and curious pedestrians who tried to get a look.

The gang members were split into three distinct categories. In one corner stood a big group of gaunt beggars in tattered clothes, and in the other stood burly, tattooed humans wielding all sorts of weapons. And in the last stood a group of proud dwarves armed with warhammers and axes. There were a few part-elves and gnomes among this group as well.

These were the members of the remaining gangs. They had beef with one another, but all of them were keeping a semblance of calmness at the moment.

The lights in the brothel's lobby shone on the ground. Three distinct gang lords sat around the table, forming a triangle.

"I got the news. Three days ago, five witchers entered the civilian area through the northern gate and got into a fight with Wiley's thugs in the marketplace. The thugs were then dragged into an alleyway. And then Alonso's butler met up with them the next day in Rosemary and Thyme. And after that… you know what happened yesterday." The man stopped for a moment. He rested his chin on the back of his hands. He had a wary look in his eyes. "All fifty-six core members of his gang were killed."

"Are you sure the witchers did this, Bedlam?" A fair, handsome man in purple silk robes pinched his elegant goatee. "You mean to say five of them took out more than fifty people? Is that even possible? If I recall, Wiley hired a sorcerer to protect him."

"Nothing's impossible. I've fought them before. Even a half-mutated witcher is inhumanly strong and agile. Not even the best warrior back in Mount Carbon can hold a candle against one of them. And we're talking about five here!" The last gang lord was a dwarf. He stood up, looking red with anger. The light shone on his glistening mohican hair. It was… conspicuous.

"In all my life, I've never seen witchers moving in a group. Wiley and his gang didn't stand a chance in hell if they were working together. Hell, even if all of our men tried to take them on, they'd destroy us without even breaking a sweat! You wanna try it out?"

"Cool it, Cleaver." Bedlam narrowed his eyes. He growled, "We're not your men. We don't need to hear your complaints. Now use your head and come up with something useful. How should we deal with the witchers? We can't let them run around as they please. They might wake up one day and feel like attacking us the way they did to Wiley and his ilk. Do you want that to happen?"

Cleaver harrumphed and sat back down reluctantly.

"My men saw them up close before. Four of them were wearing viper pendants, and one wore a cat pendant. The Vipers aside, you know how crazy the Cats are. They're temperamental. Impulsive. It's not beyond them to destroy Wiley and his gang if those fools got on their bad side."

"So you're saying the witchers are our prime suspects. And the Cat is a… variable. He must be eradicated." The Collector held his zircon pendant. The look in his eyes was dripping with venom. "I say we work together and get rid of these pesky intruders. And I have a plan. First we prepare some dimeritium and bombs, then we take the initiative and attack them. That'll take care of their pseudo-spells." The Collector sneered, his cheeks red with excitement. "Witchers are nothing without their spells."

"What, you think they can do nothing without their spells? They're armed." The dwarf chortled in disdain. He straightened his hair up. "But I guess you can send your men in as the vanguard, while my and Bedlam's men will play backup."

"Is that a challenge, Cleaver?"

"No, it's a simple statement. We should learn from Wiley's mistake, and really, it's a bloody one." Cleaver's face fell. "A group of witchers is far more powerful than you think. Even if we can take them out, we'd have to pay a heavy price ourselves. A price heavier than you can imagine."

Bedlam thought about the massacre at Wiley Manor again, and he sighed. He wasn't as young as he used to be. Instability was not something he would like to see. "Cleaver's right. We can't go straight to violence. Vipers and Cats are famous assassins. If even one of them escapes our grasp, that's goodbye to a good night's sleep. And they can fight a small troop all by themselves. They've proven their worth. Respect where respect is due. We're holding a negotiation. We need to know what they're thinking and what they're going to do. If we can come to a permanent peace treaty, then all the better. They stay in their lane, and we stay in ours. That's the only way to prosperity, or our work will be for nothing."

"Are you serious? There's hundreds of us and only five of them, but we have to bow to them?" The Collector's eyes went wide with rage. "The King of Beggars and the Cleaver… I never thought I'd say this, but you're cowards."

"Orloff, I know you're a noble sorcerer who scoffs at non-humans and collects forbidden items, but you're blinded by your false sense of superiority." Bedlam stared straight at The Collector's eyes. "And I never said I'd bow to them. This is nothing but a fair negotiation. If this plan fails, well, we always have a backup in store. Prepare the dimeritium and bombs," he said solemnly.

"We can always take them down with us as a last resort. Cleaver and I have made our choice. If you go straight to the backup plan before we can even negotiate, then that's fine with us. But we won't help if the witchers decide to wipe you out as well."

If looks could kill, Bedlam and Cleaver would have died. A moment later, Orloff sighed. "Fine. Contact the witchers and try to come up with a treaty."

"I have the best place for that." Cleaver caressed his carefully-braided beard. His hair swayed like the crown of a rooster. "Whoreson and his son are dead, but his gang's fighting matches must go on. We'll get into talks at the ring. It's on our turf. The witchers won't do anything stupid. There's too many people around."

Bedlam nodded, and his eyes shone. "And now let's talk about Wiley's assets. His casinos, fighting rings, and brothels. Including the one we're in. We're splitting them up and having our men take over this afternoon."

"And remember, save some for those bastards of Eternal Fire." The Collector combed his purple hair. He looked reluctant to say that. "Or we can't take over in peace."

***

A slender figure stood on the roof of a house outside the civilian area in southern Novigrad, swinging his sword.

He held his sword over his head and squared out his shoulders. His muscles were relaxed, and his legs were clasped together, but the tips of his feet were apart. The figure started out with the roof stance, then he switched to the ox stance, and then the plow stance…

In the end, he went for the tail stance, looking like a dracolizard that was swinging its tail around.

The witchers moved fluidly and easily. The sword cut through the air, and it gleamed under the sun. It almost left an afterimage with every swing the witcher made.

As the witcher moved around, it buzzed like a gust of wind blowing through the air. Compared to how it used to be, Roy's swordplay had a sharper edge in it that came from the Cat School's philosophy of swordsmanship.

A moment later, he heaved a sigh and sheathed his sword, then he scanned his character sheet.

'Sword Mastery Level 2: You have increased your mastery in swordplay. You gain a (5 → 10)% increase in STR, DEX, and CON, allowing you to defend, block, dodge, and attack more accurately in close-quarter combat.

You may activate this skill and double its effect. However, you will also expend double the stamina in battle. This buff lasts for at least thirty seconds.'

His swordplay improved after that massacre in the manor. And he realized an issue at the same time. Gwyhyr's Suppression worked a lot better than I thought when it came to regular humans. They got interrupted and started spacing out in about ten seconds instead of minutes. It's like they saw something horrifying, and it stopped them from even fighting.

"This is really going to come in handy for group battles. Wonder how it'll hold up against a few dozen enemies."

Roy was starting to imagine it, but his train of thought was broken. A young, chubby girl in braids and red dress came into his sights. She went past the narrow alleyway and came straight to his house, then she knocked on the door.

Roy leaped down three stories and landed behind the girl safely.

She turned around, looking pale with shock. The girl very nearly cried, but in the end, she forced a smile. "A-Are you the witcher?"

"Yes."

"Master Francis Bedlam sends his regards." The girl handed him a slip of paper.

Roy patted her braids and stuffed a copper coin into her sweaty palm. "So they want to negotiate at the ring? And in two days? I honestly saw this coming from a mile away. Guess it's time to see the bosses of the Big Four… Three, I mean."