Chương 57: Chapter 55 - Interlude: The Merchant

"By the shit-covered bones of Prophet Lebioda, what the fuck is that?" Bromir Orsik, a dwarf and merchant exclaimed, watching as a beast walked beside an earthen wall in the distance. Unless the wall was really tiny, which it did not seem to be, the beast must have been enormous, yet it ignored all the snack-sized people around. One of the hired guards spoke up with a smug voice from beside the wagon, "First time?"

"Ignore him," the Captain, a tall woman built like a battering ram, interjected, giving the guard a look, "Kovac here," she forcefully patted the guard's back, "pissed his pants when we came last week," she sniffed the air theatrically, "And his Ma didn't teach him how to do laundry!" Kovac sputtered, his face growing red, before looking away, much to the amusement of their compatriots.

"That is all very interesting, but it doesn't tell me why there is a dragon-sized monster there, and more importantly, why we are walking towards it!" Orsik spoke, fidgeting nervously with his coat, tapping the dagger he had hidden underneath it. While Captain Shera nodded understandingly, the other four guards, sans Kovac, chuckled at his outburst, receiving glares from the Captain, who, presumably, did not believe that making fun of your clients was good for business.

It had to be said that though the Captain was large, intimidating, and possessed of a face even a mother couldn't love, she had been blessed with good sense. Perhaps by some god trying to even the scales a little. Very, very little, if Orsik was honest.

"It is like this: the Sorceress Tanya Degustachef has opened a portal to a different plane of existence, and formed contracts with the critters there, the results of which you see here," she spoke authoritatively. Orsik, who happened to know that Goetia was not only very much illegal, but that creatures brought here from other planes were insane and murderous, sometimes even insanely murderous, was rather sceptical of that. Even so, he nodded, unwilling to gainsay the armed woman, despite being her employer.

Humans had a tendency to change their minds unpredictably and were often no less murderous than demons. And if it came to it, Orsik knew very well that many, ostensibly tasked with upholding the law and protecting citizens like him, would be willing to look the other way once they saw that the victim was a dwarf. Still, despite the Captain's likely misconceptions, Bromir had learned what he needed.

The creature was a pet of a surely insane sorceress, who would likely be eaten soon, at which point the beasts would start a massacre. He considered turning around, then changed his mind. Money was money, and he knew these soldiers in particular were bound to pay premium, considering their near future. It wasn't like it changed much. His profit already depended on dancing upon a knife's edge. This place would be besieged soon, and were he still here then, his life would be at a great risk.

Adding some hell beasts to the mix didn't change the calculus much.

"Welcome to Dreadhold, Master Orsik," Captain Shera smiled at him, her ugly mug not comforting in the least. Entering the unfortunately named fortress proved more of a challenge than Orsik had expected. The gates were heavily guarded, and the guards did not look like the bribable sort. Which meant that they'd only be willing to accept truly large bribes.

After writing down their names and even sketching their faces, the soldiers went over all four of his wagons like ants over dropped candy, while Orsik did his best to get the damnable sand out of his shoe. Why the entrance was covered in the stuff he had no clue, but some had gotten in his footwear, much to his annoyance.

"Everything seems to be in order," the lead guard spoke, an alert looking man whose metal breastplate was complimented by vambraces, cuisses and greaves made out of something that resembled carapace. Orsik did his best not to wrinkle his nose.

"Here," he handed Orsik a wooden token, then gave similar ones to his guards, "These are magically enchanted. Keep them on yourself at all times in the camp. Go through." Orsik nodded, though much of his disbelief was visible on his face. If those trinkets were enchanted then he was an elven maid! Entering, the merchant had to admit he was somewhat disappointed by the interior.

Much seemed to be under construction - the inner wall was still little more than a ditch, while the outer one they had just passed consisted mostly of raw earthworks. Unimpressive, when one had seen the glorious walls of Cintra or Novigrad. If one ignored the demons, then Dreadhold did not live up to its name. With those creatures roaming around, Orsik had to admit, the name was fairly fitting.

When he spotted a black armoured skeleton marching with a black staff in hand and a bunch of knights surrounding it a ways away, he decided to surrender. Dreadhold fit all too well. Staring at the figure, while the camp bustled around him as if everything was normal, made him feel quite intensely as the outsider he was. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Who was that?" He croaked once the figure left his sight.

"That's the wi -, uh, sorceress," Shera answered, looking around furtively. Fortunately, no one apart from Orsik and his other guards seemed to have heard her slip-up.

"Aren't they supposed to be," he paused, realising that his question was similarly tactless, "Pretty?" he finished in a whisper.

"Do I look like an expert on witches or fashion to you?" The merchant looked the large woman over, before averting his eyes, "Fair point."

"The fuck?" Shera responded, voice none too happy.

"Uh, I meant that you probably haven't met many sorceresses? The woman nodded slowly, "That's right." Orsik hadn't met any either, but he did consider himself worldly and learned.

From the practically ancient Aretuza's Tissaia de Vries, Redania's Philippa Eilhart or Nilfgaard's Assire var Anahid, to the sorcerers like Vilgefortz, Ortolan, Stregobor, or Braathens, all were said to be largely beautiful and well-dressed at all times, even including the veritably ancient specimens very likely preserved in formaldehyde like Tissaia de Vries. Some said that they all looked hideous, akin to fairy-tale crones and warlocks, using illusions to seem beautiful.

Orsik didn't believe that, but he also did not think their appearance was natural. Not that he had any reason to dig deeper into the matter. What he could say with certainty was that a sorceress dressed like that was very unusual. Then again, he had never seen a sorceress waging a war.

"Sir! Sir!" Orsik's attention was captured by a young soldier with a glint in his eye, "You are a merchant, yes?" The young man slicked his hair back.

"I am," Orsik replied, his merchant senses tingling. Whether in warning or opportunity, he didn't know.

"Then do I have the deal of a lifetime for you!" He spoke rapidly, presenting a small pouch, before emptying its contents onto his palms. Orsik leaned closer, his nose wrinkling as he examined the wares, "Are those scales?"

"Exactly so, Master Merchant! These here are scales of Nazair's Bane, the Great Serpent conjured forth by the Archsorceress Degurechaff, the size of a small hill. The beast perished in the battle, though it must have killed and eaten thousands of the bastards first, and its corpse burned afterwards. I, however, managed to secure a few scales before then. Perhaps the last in existence! I have little doubt many in Cintra proper would pay handsomely for such a trophy," the soldier finished triumphantly.

The dwarf blinked, examining the scales with greater curiosity. He had heard tales of the battle, and the monsters, so what the man was saying could be true, however…

"Why are they so small then?" Orsik asked.

"Er," the soldier was taken aback, "That's the size they were?"

"Uh uh," Orsik scrutinised the man disdainfully, "Good pitch though. I am sure you'll do better in the Capital." The dwarf ignored the sputtering man, continuing onwards to the designated spot. His wares were relatively modest - salted meat, beer, arrows, crossbows, and opium. The essentials for a soon-to-be besieged force. He resisted the urge to rub his hands. The profit would be incredible. Captain Shera and her men seemed to share his optimism.

The journey here was somewhat risky, but no monster or bandit had accosted them, and there seemed to be no sign of the approaching Nazairi. They just needed to get their comically large bags of coins and abscond. The majority of which would be his, naturally, though Shera knew him well enough to expect very generous bonuses, hence her good mood. Their jubilation disappeared quickly once they spotted the figure heading towards them. Instead of some fat quartermaster, it was the sorceress.

Orsik blinked as he spotted a sharp-eyed elf who was part of her guard detail, though clearly wearing Blue Mountain-style clothing. It was not a distinction many would make, but Orsik specialized in delivering needed goods where others were hesitant to. And if the humans didn't want to do business in certain places, who was he to ignore such opportunities? Once near, the skull-faced mage immediately zeroed in on the dwarf, "Merchant Bromir Orsik," a surprisingly feminine voice sounded from behind the helm.

Orsik bowed his head, "That'd be me. It is an honour to meet the saviour of Cintra." The skull stared at him for a second before speaking, "You have a good reputation, Master Orsik, I've come to inquire whether you are looking for any lucrative opportunities." The dwarf frowned. The sorceress's words could mean something incredibly profitable, dangerous, or worse, both. Worse, because he would accept.

"I always keep an ear to the ground," Orsik replied.

"No shit," One of the guards muttered somewhere behind him. Orsik did not bother to look. The sound of a fist impacting flesh echoed soon after, much to his satisfaction. There was a reason why he liked working with Shera.

"It may have come to your attention that I've been entrusted by the Crown with this land. After the Nazair issue is dealt with, there will be much a well-connected merchant could help with," the sorceress continued, not giving any indication she heard the byplay. Orsik stroked his beard, but before he could respond, a horn resounded in the distance. Then again, from a different place. And again. The metal skull turned away from Orsik, staring south.

"Well, it seems you'll have some time to think this through, Master Orsik. Unless you wish to risk leaving the safety of the fortress?" Orsik shook his head mutely, while cursing inwardly. The stream of curses in his thoughts was so vitriolic that he almost let them out when the witch bid him goodbye, only barely managing to respond politely.

"Fuck," he groaned once she was out of earshot.