Chapter 135: Tavern Brawl

Hooves stirred up the dirt on the road as a black horse and a brown horse galloped through the forest.

The leading rider was obviously much better in skill. His two hands were holding the reins with just the right amount of strength as his long and strong legs tightly hugged the horse. His athletic figure was slightly bent forward, and he would keep moving forward as the horse galloped at its own rhythm.

His entire being seemed to have become one with the horse, and he found it easy to ride it. He even had the energy to turn around and look at the rider who had fallen behind him.

The rider behind him performed far worse as he had his entire body on the horse's back, and he was somewhat stiff as well.

After a moment, they had left the forest and had entered an open plain…

It was afternoon and many people who were hungry had returned home. There were few people on the streets.

Rows upon rows of houses with straw roofing in the village had smoke rising from them. In the middle of the rows of houses was a building built with bricks. In front of its wide courtyard stood the signpost of a tavern.

Neigh…

Roy, who was wearing leather armor and a cloak behind him, pulled on his reins with all his might. Afterward, he jumped down the horse hastily.

Cold sweat was all over his face as they hurried along in their journey.

However, he was very gentle with the one that started all of this. He gently patted the horse's mane and whispered as he slowly walked forward with the reins in his hand.

"Wilt, oh Wilt. You have to be gentler next time. I feel like I'm losing half my life every time I ride you…"

Letho could only shake his head as he walked in front with his horse. His wide cloak had covered his well-developed muscles. There were straps and buckles fastened around his chest and waist, and there was a row of throwing knives and a small potion belt.

He was surrounded by an aura warning others to "not provoke him."

During this time, he kept seeing him speak to his horse. The witcher was beginning to doubt he was psychologically well.

Could the horse even understand him?

***

The two of them led their horses on the street and towards the tavern. The server greeted them and then received the reins from their hands.

"Feed them some soybeans, peas and corn. Give them some clean water as well," Roy told him. "No need to worry about money. Horses used for traveling need to be fed with the good stuff. Don't use something spoiled or covered with mold to deceive us, understood?"

"Don't worry, sir. Please, come in…" the server said as he looked at the young and handsome face under the hood.

Strange… What's wrong with his eyes? he thought to himself.

He then glanced at the large man who was like a small hill. He didn't recognize either of them, and it was obvious from their accent that they were foreigners.

However, Vizima was not a friendly city.

I hope they won't start a brawl, the young man prayed silently. The boss just finished the renovations last week. If they have another brawl, the boss will have no more money to hire me.

Roy looked behind him and sensed someone watching him with such intensity that it prickled his skin. His eyes saw a dirty male beggar covered in filth staring right at them in an alley to the right of the tavern.

"Even beggars look down on the witchers now, huh?"

***

The tavern keeper raised his head and looked at the newcomers. The strangers were still wearing their cloaks and stood stiffly in front of the bar. They were without expression and without words.

"What can I serve you both?"

"Beer. Vizima's specialty stout…"

The tone of the bald man's voice finally had some life in it once he spoke about beer…

"Yes, make it two…"

The tavern keeper wiped his hand on the cloth apron, and then filled two chipped clay mugs with a golden and flavorful beer.

The two of them sat in front of the bar and removed their cloak.

Everyone in the tavern noticed they both had swords.

It was normal for everyone to have swords. In Vizima, almost every man of age would carry a weapon with them. But no one would have a sword on their backs as if they were carrying a crossbow.

The two strangers didn't find a table like the other customers. Instead, they stood still in front of the bar. The younger man with a sword behind him stared at the tavern keeper… who was staring at them with unfriendly eyes.

And so, after sipping a mouthful of the sweet beer, he said, "We need two rooms. For a night."

"I'm sorry, but we don't have any more available," the tavern keeper said unhappily as he glanced at their boots. They were quite filthy, covered with dirt and dust.

"Go to the Temple Quarter. The faithful of Lebioda will be more than happy to receive you."

"But what if we want to stay here?" Roy insisted. He then felt the witcher pull his hand.

"No need for lodging. We'll have some food and rest for the afternoon, and then we will leave immediately."

"We can't stay, even if we pay?" Roy asked persistently. He wanted to see these people's bottom line.

"We're full…" The tavern keeper looked at his dark, golden eyes and didn't budge.

The atmosphere became choking.

At this time, a short man whose face was covered with acne scars approached them with his two peculiar followers.

"Do you understand what he's saying…?" A sharp voice came out from the throat of the man with acne scars. "Vizima is the heart of Temeria. It's a great city and we don't welcome freaks and mutants like you."

"If I remember correctly, this is the outskirts."

"Even if it's the outskirts, it's still a part of Vizima. And we are proud Vizimans."

The young witcher's expression became frigid as he lowered his head, and his arm slowly reached behind his back.

He was thinking about whether he should start slapping the man's face right side first or left side first.

But the man kept on pressing him, saying, "I'm giving you two choices right now. You either leave this place and Vizima, or I'll send you off myself!"

Facing the men's yelling and humiliation, Letho suddenly downed his entire mug of beer and slammed the cup on the bar with a huge bang.

Everyone present was taken aback. But before the man with the acne scars could even react, a man suddenly rushed inside. It was the server who was helping them with the horses just now.

He then jabbered with nervousness, "Sirs! Your… Your horse, someone had freed one of them!"

"What?! Who did that?!"

Roy suddenly rushed forward, and nobody knew if it was intentional, but he immediately hit the shoulder of the man with acne scars. He was hit with twice the strength of a normal man.

The man in the back could only feel his body become lighter as if he were rammed by an enraged rhino directly from the front, and he couldn't help but be thrown far to the back.

The moment he successfully landed on the ground, he could feel that his buttocks had been broken and his entire skeleton cracked into pieces. His two legs flattened and he immediately lost consciousness.

***

When both Roy and Letho rushed out of the tavern door, one of the horses was already gone. It was the black, old horse owned by Letho.

"Good boy, Wilt… You didn't disappoint me…" Meanwhile, Roy's steed, which was that brown horse, was still staying in the stable calmly. It even nodded when it saw its master.

The server then approached them as he shuddered and said, "I was preparing the feed for your horses… and I looked away for one moment… But it should be that old and ugly beggar who was begging next to the tavern who stole your horse."

"Right, we understand."

Roy's golden pupils contracted. In the stable, multiple "ribbons" of different colors appeared in the air and extended outward. He locked onto the one with the most brilliant color.

"We were in the tavern for less than ten minutes. He can't outrun us."

"Let's see what gave him this much confidence!"

***

Nivellen quietly lay prone in the garbage pile in between two buildings.

He gritted his yellow, rotten teeth. He endured the stink around him, and didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

He knew the witchers had eyes sharper than eagles, noses more sensitive than dogs.

They would be able to catch him if he made so much as a little bit of noise.

If they caught him after he released their horses… Nivellen rubbed his left leg, which was numb. He was afraid he would lose even his right leg.

"Witchers… It's all your fault I ended up like this today!"

He began to replay the memories in his mind again. He remembered countless times the lavish lifestyle he once had. Once upon a time, he was wearing clothes made from the best of linen and eating the most exotic of foods. He was even accompanied by beautiful women and possessed a body much stronger than that of a mere man's. However, because of a witcher who put his nose into someone else's business, he lost everything.

And the most laughable part of all this was that he'd been grateful for that witcher at the beginning. It was only until he was forced to leave home did he understand the cruelty of the real world. Sometimes, it was easier to live as an outsider than as a normal human.

"I must have fallen under a witcher's spell to have believed his words in the first place! They must all pay!"

***

Thud… Thud… Thud…

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps rang from afar.

Nivellen quickly held his breath as his body tightened, and he didn't even dare to move.

Get away! Get away! Get away now! he kept on roaring in his heart. However, it were as if the gods had heard his prayers. The sounds of the footsteps were becoming lighter and lighter, further and further, and they completely disappeared.

He sighed in relief as he finally calmed his heart.

Next time… Next time, I will teach them a lesson again… Just as he had that thought, he suddenly felt his back was getting lighter. There were some skittering sounds, and the garbage on his back was suddenly thrown away. The cold wind swept through his clothes that were filled with holes. It was like someone had poured a bucket full of iced water on him in the middle of June. He instantly felt the icy-cold from head to toe as his body became stiffer and stiffer.

"I'm found out… I'm done for…'

As he was consumed by despair, Nivellen simply buried his face deeper into the slimy and smelly garbage.

At this time, a demonic chuckle came from behind him, and he felt a sharp object slide on his back. His skin seemed to have been pierced through, and he could feel some slight pain.

The two witchers seemed to be crueler than he first thought. "You want to kill me, right?"

When he knew he could finally free himself from his terrible life, he closed his eyes and turned around, and then pressed the left side of his chest and said with a hoarse voice, "Come on. Give this heart of mine one final pierce. I beg you to do it quickly and make it clean. Show this beggar one last mercy."

"Are you crazy?!" Roy looked at the beggar in surprise, who had the expression of someone finally being freed from his torment, as if he were going to die for a just cause.

The bald witcher also looked at him, confused.

"Who wants to kill you? We have nothing to do with you. Why did you release our horses, you fool?"