Chapter 110: Undercurrents in Brugge
"Hey, old man, you're trying to scare us, right? Cintra is a huge country, how could it just disappear?" Zoltan grumbled softly in dissatisfaction.
Kolgrim, however, held a different view: "You should look beyond the Northern Kingdoms the Nilfgaardians have quelled the internal rebellions and are once again turning their gaze northward."
"Be careful. They are an extremely aggressive nation. Thirty years ago, they annexed Nasair, the last small kingdom in the South, making them Cintra's new neighbor regardless of whether the talk of destiny is true, the peace of the Northern Kingdoms is about to end."
"Historians and military strategists have different views on that." Dandelion lazily plucked the strings of his lute, steering the conversation entirely in another direction: "Between Cintra and Nasair, the snowline of the Amell Mountains stretches to the horizon. As long as the Marnda Valley is held, no army can pass through!"
"What's more, the Northern Kingdoms have long signed an alliance with Cintra if Cintra is invaded, the entire Northern World must offer aid." The poet concluded his speech with a fervent melody: "If the tyrannical empire you speak of dares to start a war, unless they can fill that valley with the corpses of their soldiers, they won't set foot in Cintra!"
Clap, clap, clap! The poet's impassioned speech earned applause, yet none of them realized then how swiftly the catastrophe Mousesack spoke of would arrive.
Geralt ultimately couldn't leave. Ciri clung to him like an octopus, refusing to let go even when she fell asleep.
As dusk was approaching, they arrived in Brugge, planning to rest for the night before deciding their next move. Arthur initially expected that with their group including horses and armor they would be severely delayed at the city gate.
To his surprise, the guards merely glanced at the Royal Bench badge on his chest and, without even collecting the per-head entrance tax, hurriedly stepped aside to let them pass.
"Weak nations have no diplomacy, eh…" Arthur rode casually into the city, making a self-serving observation while taking advantage of the situation. He suddenly heard applause and cheers beside him:
"I didn't realize, Your Excellency, that you are not only an exceptional fighter but also possess such profound philosophical insight!"
Arthur followed the voice and instantly felt a headache Why him?
On the street directly opposite the city gate, a man was waving at him from the second-floor balcony of an inn, his teeth flashing brightly white.
Corvo Ice-Scar.
Arthur struggled to suppress a frown, using the calmest tone possible to greet him: "What are you doing here?"
Corvo smiled even more brightly: "Did you forget? I have an office in Brugge, and from where we parted ways, this is the only place you could head."
"Since you have an office, why stay at an inn?" Arthur asked casually, placing one hand behind his back, signaling the others to be vigilant.
"Ha, I believe I told you I am a successful mercenary!" Corvo laughed heartily: "For a man like me, who makes a living on the blade's edge, it's only natural to make myself comfortable when I have the coin."
"I say, meeting twice in one day calls for a drink to celebrate this rare coincidence! The ale at this inn is famous far and wide!"
"Heh heh, I apologize, but I cannot accept your kind invitation. It's getting late, and we need to find lodging quickly you know, places that can accommodate a group as large as ours are scarce." Arthur felt a twinge of regret that the man was a mercenary, which prevented him from using the opportunity to throw a fit in noble circles, such short-notice invitations were considered quite rude.
"Why go to all that trouble? The King is hosting a tournament soon, and every inn in the city is full. Only this place still has two large rooms left you know, places that can accommodate a group as big as yours are scarce."
"Dwarf obscenity, this bastard is definitely after us…" Even the straightforward Zoltan sensed something was wrong at this point. If the city was so packed with travelers, how could the inn right by the gate have vacancies?
On the balcony, Corvo lightly swirled a glass of red wine, seeming to convey a message to Arthur: I've set a trap ahead. Do you dare step into it?
"Don't trouble yourself. We will find a way to settle ourselves." A cold glint appeared in Arthur's eyes, and his tone hardened.
Without waiting for a response, he reined his horse and calmly told his companions: "The situation in the city is off. We'll camp outside tonight."
"What about sending the message?" Maria asked quietly. Although she had left Brokilon, the matter still weighed on her mind.
"We'll find someone to deliver the letter tomorrow." Arthur gazed at the distant hills. The palace under the night sky looked like a monster grinding its teeth and lusting for blood, hinting at the many plots brewing within.
Though he didn't fear combat, he disliked pointless battles. Instead of stumbling headfirst into a pre-set trap and dealing with the city's complex factions, Arthur preferred to choose his own battlefield. The conditions outside the city might be rougher, but there wouldn't be so many messy distractions. If his opponents wanted him, they would have to approach openly and when it came to a fight, he had never feared anyone.
Arthur turned around. The massive city gate was groaning as it descended, slamming onto the ground with a thud. Curiously, he had entered many cities on this journey, and usually, when they closed, they were merely bolted shut. In Brugge, however, they were dropping the emergency portcullis.
"I forgot to mention, because of the bandits causing trouble outside the city lately, the Mayor required the gates to be lowered before sunset." Corvo leaned over the balcony railing, watching Arthur with a smirk, as if saying, 'Let's see where you run now.'
He offered the invitation again: "Come on. The rooms here aren't cheap. Don't waste the opportunity."
Did he think Arthur was trapped and no longer bother pretending?
Arthur sneered subtly, then suddenly crouched down, bracing his shoulder against the portcullis. With a mighty yell, he physically lifted the multi-ton gate, allowing his companions to pass freely beneath it.
This display left Corvo stunned. He had expended considerable effort and resources to set this checkmate for Arthur on the Brugge chessboard. Who knew the young man would forcibly escape using such a crude method? How was this any different from flipping the board when you can't win the game of chess?!
Seeing Arthur's companions almost all gone, Corvo finally snapped out of it and shouted in exasperation: "Hey, soldiers! Soldiers! Someone illegally opened the gate! Are
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n't you going to do anything?!"
The soldiers' barracks were right beside the gate, and such a colossal commotion had obviously alerted everyone immediately. Yet, faced with Corvo's urgency, the guards merely stood by, arms crossed, staring intently at the knotted muscles in Arthur's arms.
One garrulous soldier even muttered softly:
"Do something? How? If we try to keep him here, the one who gets screwed is me!"