The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Chapter 96 The Secret Room of the Kingfisher Tavern

"Ron, now I believe that intelligence. Before you came here through the celestial convergence, you were a prince of a unified empire with a territory even larger than Nilfgaard. I thought some bastard had drunk too much and handed me such outrageous intelligence. I almost had him thrown out."

He turned to Geralt. "If Geralt were to answer this question, I'm 100% sure he'd give a stupid answer like 'the army.'"

Geralt looked up, not refuting, but his lips twitched slightly.

"Vizmir and I have wanted to achieve this goal, and we have worked hard for many years," Dixter's voice was unusually sincere.

"I will never stand by and watch that little shithead ruin all my efforts. Heartless Radovide? Bullshit, I think he's the heartless Radovide."

Dixter took a deep breath. "So, Ron, Geralt, are you willing to help me?"

"Dickscher, ask Geralt about that," Ron said. "Even if you hadn't mentioned it, I would have found a chance to kill Radovid. I'm not a magnanimous person, especially when it comes to someone who has threatened me."

Of course, it's not impossible for you to take the lead, but we need to discuss many details. Tomorrow, bring your allies to the Kingfisher's cellar. There's a secret room there, guarded by my soldiers. Oh, and don't tell me you only brought Geralt and me."

Dicoscher clasped his hands in front of his chest, bowed and nodded. "Of course, of course. Let's talk about the details tomorrow. This is really not the place to talk."

Ron and Geralt walked back along the dock area. Geralt hadn't said a word since leaving the dock, and his boots made a dull sound on the stone pavement.

"Geralt, what are you thinking about?" Ron broke the silence. "Should you uphold the neutrality of a Witcher, or participate in this conspiracy and assassination for the sake of your friends and loved ones?"

Geralt sighed, weary from being tormented by fate too many times.

"I've been forced to participate in countless conspiracies in my life, but every time the king is involved, the outcome is never good. After the Foltest incident, I still carry the stigma of assassinating the king."

"Don't take Dixter's words too seriously," Ron said in a deep and firm voice.

"This guy is very good at using benefits and pressure to bind people to do things for him. To be honest, I'm also very good at it, but I won't do that to my friends. No matter what you choose, it won't affect our friendship."

Geralt sighed again. "Wow, that's so touching. If I were a girl, I'd probably throw myself into your arms."

Ron's mind flashed with images, and he couldn't help but shudder. "No, forget it. Being brothers is good enough."

"I will participate," Geralt's gaze sharpened. "Dikoscher is right. As long as Radovid lives, Yennefer and Triss will not be safe."

Humans always seem to create an enemy for themselves. Before, it was the mages; now that the mages have fled, it's the non-human races' turn. Zoltan and many of my friends are going to have a tough time.”

"Don't worry," Ron nodded. "If all else fails, we can send them to my territory for refuge. Of course, it would be best to solve the problem at its source."

The next day, sunlight streamed through the windows on the second floor of the Kingfisher Tavern as Dudu pushed open the door and walked in.

"My lord, the witch hunters didn't have much of a catch after a night of searching," Dudu reported. "The patrols in the city have eased, but the defenses at the city gates remain tight."

Geralt and Henry, taking advantage of the lightest morning patrol time, brought the two mages back to Kingfisher. Berthhor and Annies are in good spirits. I have arranged for ships to take them to the territory, and as per your orders, Henry will accompany them with five regular soldiers.”

"Hmm," Ron nodded. "How are things going with Calard Winery and the Northern Gazette?"

"The first issue of the Northern Gazette has been sent out, and the first batch of subscribers have received it. Sales are better than expected. Mr. Lu Wen's promotion has been a great help. This is a sample copy of the first issue." Du Du took out a newspaper from his bag and respectfully spread it on the table.

The paper was papyrus produced on the estate; it was slightly rough but tough, and the printed characters were clear and beautiful.

The layout is divided into several sections: the analysis of the Civil War situation occupies the upper left corner, business information is in the upper right corner, poetry is in the lower left corner, and news is in the lower right corner.

"The Nilfgaard Merchants' Guild suffers fire, suspected to be the work of an underground gang?" This huge headline was placed in the most conspicuous position.

Below, the second largest section features the blackberry mead tastings by nobles at the Wiggibunde Manor ball.

"How is the current publication frequency set?" Ron carefully flipped through the newspaper.

"It is conducted on a weekly basis, and the speed of intelligence transmission is a major problem. At present, it is not possible to publish more frequently. The subscribers are mainly nobles, merchants, scholars, taverns, as well as major chambers of commerce and banks."

Commercial establishments are primarily for customers, while taverns have bards reading the newspaper to everyone, since most commoners are illiterate. However, this way, information from the Northern Gazette can reach all levels of society as quickly as possible.

Du Du rubbed his hands together. "I've already felt the potential of this business model, and I believe many people share the same thought. However, our printing technology is a barrier that no one can break through at present, let alone compete with. If we rely solely on hand-copying, the cost of one copy is enough for us to print ten copies."

He paused, then continued, "In addition, the reputation of our mead is spreading far and wide. As soon as the ball at Wiggibunde Estate ended, our orders surged. After that, things will gradually stabilize, and we'll develop a stable group of loyal customers."

However, we need to prepare for production volume early. Regarding transportation, I'm currently in discussions with the owners of several merchant ships. Two have already verbally agreed, and we'll sign contracts next week. Once the deals are finalized, we won't have to rely solely on the Seagull for round-trip transport, and the transportation cycle will be significantly shortened.

"Well, you can make these decisions yourself," Ron said, folding the newspaper neatly. "After we return to the territory, I will arrange for the expansion of the brewery. Keep an eye out for relevant talent in Novigrad, and offer them double the market price. Land and property will be provided to those who are willing to settle in Calard Manor with their families."

"I understand," Du Du said, a shrewd glint in his eyes.

"Many non-human races in the city are being ostracized and can't find work. There are quite a few skilled ones among them, such as elven blacksmiths, dwarven architects, and halfling brewing experts. The Novigrad Craftsmen's Guild doesn't accept non-human races, so they can only take odd jobs. Right now, most people are reluctant to leave the city. However, once the Eternal Flame finishes off the mages, it will eventually target non-human races. At that time, we can take the opportunity to recruit talent. I will make preparations in advance and will immediately notify the manor if the wind changes."

Just then, a knock sounded at the door, and Geralt pushed it open and entered, a somewhat enigmatic expression on his face.

"Ron, Dixter has arrived, along with an old acquaintance of ours."

Ron stood up from the table and headed to the wine cellar. The entrance to the secret room was fitted with a heavy door panel, the gaps of which were stuffed with soundproofing hemp. Two regular soldiers stood guard at the door, their helmets lowered, revealing only their silent eyes, and remained motionless.