That night, the dwarf Zoltan never imagined that he, an old Gwent player, would lose to a newcomer who didn't even own a Gwent deck.
Although their stakes were small, just a recreational game, according to Gwent rules, the winner had the right to take one card from the loser's deck.
Therefore, Zoltan, who had lost several rare cards, was sleepless all night, filled with heartache and turmoil, until the next day when he emerged from the inn with dark circles under his eyes.
Guilliman looked at this new dwarf friend with a smile, finding the dwarf race quite interesting and worth befriending.
To be able to become a friend of the protagonist Geralt, Zoltan's character was certainly guaranteed. In the original story, no matter how dangerous the situation, he always stood with Geralt, unafraid of death.
Moreover, for him, who was determined to become a legendary witcher, there would certainly be times in the future when he would need the help of dwarves. Having such a friendship would make it easier to interact with them.
"Are you really going to Vizima, Guilliman?"
"I heard there's a plague going around, and many people have died."
"Entry and exit from the city are now strictly restricted; you need a pass issued by an acquaintance to get through. You must be careful."
"However, we're going the same way for a while, so why don't we travel together? That would save a lot of trouble."
Zoltan carried a huge satchel on his back, with an axe as large as his face hanging from his waist.
However, he wasn't riding a horse; dwarves, due to their stature, weren't good at riding. But this race generally possessed great strength and endurance, always traveling on foot wherever they went, and their speed wasn't slow.
He was curious why Guilliman carried no luggage, and even the weapons he used before, along with some equipment and coins confiscated from the bandits, seemed to have disappeared.
Guilliman didn't explain much, only saying it was a unique magic of his school. However, he didn't refuse the dwarf's suggestion to travel together.
Traveling alone was truly boring, and having a companion to chat with was a good thing. Although he had absorbed some of Kael'grim's memories, he still needed to accumulate more knowledge and rules about the witcher world through daily life.
The two traveled together for about half a day, and soon, led by Zoltan, arrived at a small, secluded village at the foot of a mountain, about a day's journey from Vizima.
This seemed to be a village that survived by cultivating tea, hunting, and tanning. A faint scent of tea wafted before they even got close.
To Guilliman's surprise, most of the residents in this village were non-human races such as elves, half-elves, and dwarves, with a very small number of human residents.
Although this situation wasn't unique, in the current northern environment, which was somewhat hostile to non-human races, such a village was quite dangerous and could easily become a target for those with ulterior motives.
As soon as the two entered the village, another group of dwarves quickly came to meet them.
Leading them was a strong, middle-aged dwarf with a partially bald head, sporting only a tuft of hair resembling an animal's tail.
Behind him was a group of young dwarves, clad in a jumble of equipment and weapons, but with a formidable presence.
After meeting Zoltan, the leading dwarf enthusiastically greeted him with a chest bump, saying in a somewhat hoarse voice:
"I've been waiting for you, Zoltan."
"I heard you've been worried about your wedding dowry lately, so I specifically wrote to you. I have a good business opportunity to include you in."
"If this commission is completed, we'll all get a large sum of money."
Zoltan laughed heartily at this, patting the dwarf's shoulder and saying:
"Yarpen, my good friend."
"Thank you for thinking of me when good things happen. I really am short on money lately."
"You know, my father-in-law, Eifver Brackenridges, what a conservative fellow he is."
"He believes he shouldn't marry his daughter to a dwarf like me, who has left Mahakam, and he has made many demands of me."
"I must prove to him that I am capable of providing a prosperous life for Eudora."
"Zoltan Chivay is no wimp. I'm not even afraid of the black-clad Nilfgaardian army. I will prove to Mahakam that I am a dwarf worthy of trust."
Yarpen and the dwarves behind him nodded in agreement. They were all dwarves who had left the Mahakam Mountains, where dwarves resided, and mingled in human society.
They could well understand the feeling of being ostracized as outsiders by their own kind. It was precisely because of this that they would undertake many dangerous tasks, hoping that one day, when they achieved sufficient fame and accomplishments, their kin in Mahakam would also be proud of them.
Yarpen and Zoltan exchanged a few pleasantries, and the conversation quickly turned to Guilliman, who stood to the side.
When this topic came up, Zoltan became quite indignant and said loudly:
"Damn it, Temeria is too unsafe these days! I had just come down from the mountains and was about to spend the night in an inn, only to run into a group of bandits disguised as a black inn."
"There were six human bandits, each armed. Luckily, I was vigilant enough not to eat their food, otherwise, I would have fallen into their trap."
Saying this, Zoltan directed everyone's gaze towards Guilliman, enthusiastically introducing him:
"Luckily, I met Guilliman. He is a powerful witcher, who hates evil as much as he loves justice."
"In less than half a minute, he took down five bandits, cleanly and satisfyingly. I also split the head of one human scoundrel with my axe."
Zoltan was quite eloquent; a few simple descriptions showcased Guilliman's power, making the other dwarves look at him with admiration.
However, Guilliman was not a humble person. Facing the dwarves' gazes, he merely nodded with a calm expression and a slight smile, his demeanor composed.
When one is out in the world, one's identity is self-given. If one appears too modest to others, they will also look down on you.
Upon hearing Guilliman's identity as a witcher, Yarpen, who had been expressionless, suddenly brightened, and his gaze towards him became much more serious.
This bald dwarf was a well-known dwarf mercenary and legendary hunter in the North. He and his team had hunted various dangerous monsters, the most famous of which was Ocvist, the dragon of Quartz Mountain, a true dragon.
After a few seconds of formulating his words, he spoke to Guilliman:
"Thank you for helping my friend, witcher."
"I will arrange a grand meal shortly as a thank you, ensuring you eat well."
"However, I heard your destination for this journey is Vizima."
"If you still have time, I wonder if you would be interested in taking on a witcher commission with a huge reward."
A commission?
Guilliman looked at him, then at the dwarves around him, and after a second of silence, said:
"I'm not in a hurry to go to Vizima."
"Nor will I refuse any well-paid commission."
"But before I accept, you must tell me the content of the commission and the remuneration I can expect."
Yarpen laughed heartily, beckoning to Guilliman and Zoltan, and said:
"Don't worry, let's eat first."
"This is a dragon hunt commission, and the reward is so generous it's higher than killing several hundred Drowners."