abnabooks Chapter 117 The Manor
Chapter 117 The Manor
Chapter 117 The Manor
Ten days later.
The demon hunters rode their horses along a road that was still under construction.
The road passes through Ben Flynn, a city west of Cordwin.
Further west is the Humphries Union, and even further on is Cowell and Poves.
The group, weary from their journey, entered the city.
It has to be said that having a noble status is indeed advantageous.
Upon seeing the baron's noble documents, the guards at the gate smiled, bowed, and escorted the witcher into the city.
In the past, such treatment would have been unimaginable. It would have been considered good enough if they let you in; you might even have had to bribe the guards to get in.
Upon entering the city, a stench assaulted the nostrils.
Excrement and urine were everywhere on the roadside, and there were fallen figures in the corners of alleys.
They were emaciated, wearing only thin, tattered clothes, and this winter in Cordwin was exceptionally colder than usual.
All that awaits them are frozen bones.
When the group arrived at the inner city, the surrounding environment had changed dramatically.
The intersection has become wider and cleaner, and even flowers and trees have been planted on both sides.
Led by Holt, the group crossed Ben Flynn and, after exiting the city gates, found themselves in villages attached to the city.
Follow a path to the end, and you'll find a manor of about 3 or 4 hectares.
It was surrounded by a stone wall, and a wooden plaque hung above the arched gate.
Rocamora.
Alwin murmured something to himself.
Nannick had taught him; it was a transliteration of an ancient word meaning revenge.
Holt's estate.
The witchers, after leaving the capital, did not choose to return directly to Kaer Morhen, but instead came here at Holt's invitation.
Holt dismounted, the bandages removed. Thanks to the Witcher's own superhuman healing abilities and the potion, his burns had almost fully healed.
He stepped forward, pushed open the wooden door, and reached out to ring the bell hanging behind it.
The badges on the chests of the people following him all trembled at that moment.
Alwin glanced at it.
The magical energy fluctuations emanated from the bell Holt rang.
Magic props.
Once it is rung, another bell inside the mansion will also ring.
It was a small gadget frequently used by nobles and lords.
Medieval magic doorbell?
Alwin shifted his gaze to the interior of the manor.
First, there is an open area surrounded by a wooden fence, where there are wooden mannequins, weights, and sand, which is the training ground.
In the center of the estate stands a sturdy, three-story black mansion built of pine wood.
There are also many small wooden houses on both sides of the mansion.
It has everything: a storage room, a stable, a barn, a well, a pigeon coop, a bathhouse, and several small sheds.
Paul winked at Horton and whistled.
This luxurious furnishing definitely belongs to a wealthy family.
However, even a young witcher who had seen the royal palace wouldn't lose his composure.
Geralt, on the other hand, looked relaxed. He had spent the entire winter here and was very familiar with the place.
Soon, the gate of the mansion was pushed open, and a middle-aged man wearing a rabbit fur cotton coat walked out.
His brown hair was meticulously styled, and after slightly adjusting his clothes, he strode forward.
The cotton boots made a crisp, crunching sound as they stepped on the muddy ground covered with ice shards.
His self-light flowed rapidly past Alwin and the others.
When he saw those cat eyes of different colors again, he showed no fear whatsoever; instead, he smiled as if relieved.
"Mr. Holt, welcome home. You've been gone for almost a month now, and you haven't sent a single letter back."
"Given your profession, we are very worried about your safety."
"Oh, and Geralt, it's a pleasure to see you again, and gentlemen as well."
The man bowed and said loudly.
His movements were very precise, clearly indicating that he had received professional training.
Vesemir smirked, his gaze turning somber as he looked at the white-haired old witcher before him. He lowered his voice, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"Holt, damn it, while I'm freezing and starving in the fortress, you're hiding in this mansion living the life of a pampered lord? Huh?"
Holt heard the voice but did not refute it.
After a series of events involving Atamon, Holt's relationship with Vesemir improved considerably.
However, Vesemir's sharp tongue meant he would still occasionally make sarcastic remarks.
Holt remained indifferent to this.
He hadn't heard that familiar tone of voice for forty years, and he even missed it a little.
He planned to listen a few more words before finding another opportunity to fight Vesemir.
As for this manor, he bought it because his leg was injured, intending to use it for his retirement.
He usually makes a living by taking on demon-hunting jobs.
As for the gold coins used to buy the manor, he acquired them by befriending an agent.
Thanks to the latter's good business sense, the two of them each amassed a considerable amount of gold coins.
Holt stepped forward. "Jonathan, these are my companions and close friends. Please arrange their rooms."
"I see, sir."
The middle-aged man in front of me, named Jonathan, is the manager of Holt's servant team.
Is Anna at the manor?
"Here I am."
"Have her prepare the food, tell her to show her true skills, and bring out all the wines I've treasured. I'm going to host a banquet, and we'll drink until we drop tonight."
Jonathan's eyes lit up. "I'll arrange it right away."
Holt turned around and gestured an invitation.
"Vesemir, young witchers, come with me."
After saying that, he went into the mansion first.
Jonathan then went to arrange the room and kitchen tasks.
The crowd filed in.
The foyer was very spacious and its style was very similar to the Witcher's room on the second floor of Kael'thas Morhen, without any complicated furnishings or decorations.
Paul clicked his tongue and said, "Oh, this is the biggest house I've ever seen besides the royal palace. It's really beautiful."
Horton said, "Well, something's missing."
Winston stroked his chin. "I know, it's a monster specimen!"
Aiken nodded silently.
Vesemir then slapped Paul on the shoulder.
"Little one, when you visit someone's home, you must be polite, okay?"
Paul winced in pain and raised his hands in surrender.
Holt said, "Vesemir, don't be so rigid."
"The monster specimens you want to see aren't here. The servants of the manor also live in this residence. If they come out to patrol at night or go to the toilet, they might be scared to death by these monster specimens."
"ha?"
Paul, Horton, and the others laughed, but they understood perfectly.
"Not just anyone can have the courage of a Witcher."
Paul muttered under his breath, but under Vesemir's tyranny, he obediently shut his mouth.
Alwin suddenly stopped and looked toward the closed door on his right.
Holt noticed this and explained, "That's my alchemy hut. The facilities aren't as good as those professional alchemy workshops or the Temple of Meritelli, but they're still quite complete."
"Making basic potions like [Swallow] and [Golden Oriole] shouldn't be a problem."
Alvin used [Alchemy Perception] to sense the rich aroma of herbs and magic emanating from the room. Holt led the group through a corridor and into a spacious reception room.
With a casual Igni sign, he lit the tile fireplace on the left side of the room.
The firewood crackled and popped, dispelling the chill.
He turned his back, opened his arms, and spoke with a joyful tone.
"Witcher, welcome to my drawing room, which is also my collection room."
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