Chapter 121: Fancy a Game of Gwent?
"Unbelievable! To think that the border fortress of a proud kingdom could be so rotten that even the King can't fix it!"
Arthur slammed his hand against the railing, his heart filled with both indignation and frustration. He had thought Erland's political maneuvering against Foltest was excessive, but he never imagined that the small, hundred-square-mile state of Brugge was so fragmented that the King had to hold his nose and tolerate the rampant organized crime around Dillingen! If he weren't such a poor swimmer, he would truly be tempted to disguise himself as a wealthy merchant, follow the trail, and uproot those river captains and their supporting factions once and for all.
"How much do you know about this man, Corvo?"
A cool breeze swept across the river surface. Arthur managed to suppress his scattered thoughts and began to probe James for information. He had a strong feeling that Corvo was far more than just a mercenary.
James's face took on a reflective look, his finger lightly tapping his sword sheath: "I often hear that name spoken among the high officials and nobles who frequent the court, but I have never actually seen him in person."
Arthur quickly listed a few battles that had supposedly taken place in Brugge: "Corvo once gave me a calling card, claiming he was heavily involved in these conflicts. Do these events ring a bell?"
James thought for a moment and said: "Most of those were just minor skirmishes between nobles; they hardly count as wars."
Arthur understood: "Mercenaries will often exaggerate to inflate their own worth so, according to you, these incidents truly happened?"
James nodded, his handsome brow furrowed deeply: "They did happen, but I still feel something is off…"
Then, he suddenly slapped his palm with a crack: "I know! The time spans of these events are too broad! Most of them, I only ever saw recorded in old security logs."
James then started counting off the years of these incidents on his fingers. His memory was remarkable; he recalled not only the month and year of each event but also the general context.
A rough calculation showed that this Corvo had been active in Brugge for at least thirty years yet his appearance suggested he was no more than thirty-five.
"Active for thirty years yet never aging. It seems Brugge's star mercenary is actually a sorcerer." Arthur snorted coldly, thinking of a certain armor-smith who also enjoyed close combat, wondering if this Corvo had a habit of keeping magic artifacts tucked away in his back pocket for easy access.
It was currently the dry season. The Yaruga River was less than a thousand yards wide, and the surface was relatively calm. As they spoke, they had already crossed the center line of the river, and several smaller boats gathered near the shore.
On the bow of the lead boat, a young general in a blue surcoat shouted:
"You have entered Cintra's waters! Stop the vessel and submit to inspection!"
Compared to the large ship Arthur's group was on, the general's boat was like a leaf. Yet, at the sound of the general's strained voice, the sailors on the big ship immediately scrambled, bringing the vessel to a sudden halt.
"We're on an official Dillingen vessel, which is why we're being stopped for inspection. Ordinary merchant ships are usually waved right through," James explained.
"Hmph, quite the imposing figure! Stopping such a big ship with just a shout!" Zoltan murmured enviously.
By the time they finished speaking, the small boat was close alongside. Before it even stopped completely, the figure in the blue surcoat leaped onto the deck: "Sending a military vessel without warning is Brugge planning an insurrection?! Princess! What are you doing here?"
Arthur couldn't help but smile. The general had been so aggressive and imposing, ready to demand answers, but upon seeing Ciri in the center of the group, he immediately dropped to one knee. Truly, he went from belligerent to utterly deferential in a moment.
Ciri stood with her back straight, hands clasped over her abdomen, looking directly into the General's eyes:
"I was separated from my guard detail on my journey to Verden. Fortunately, I encountered these kind people who have escorted me safely back."
Her tone was composed, and her demeanor dignified. She was unrecognizable from the ill-mannered child first met in Brokilon.
Mousesack glanced at Ciri, then addressed the General:
"General Frederick, we are not only escorting the Princess; we are also bringing back critical intelligence that may concern the peace on Cintra's borders." He gestured to the Night Crows captive slumped at James's feet, then whispered a few words into Frederick's ear. The General's face immediately grew serious. He rose to his feet and said:
"I will arrange an escort to Cintra City at once. It is vital that the Queen knows the full extent of this matter as quickly as possible."
Compared to the factional infighting of Brugge and the swirling undercurrents of Temeria, Cintra's appearance truly befitted the reputation of a Northern powerhouse.
Under General Frederick's direction, the moment the ship docked, they were immediately seated in four-horse carriages and, escorted by more than a dozen knights, sped toward Cintra City without delay. As for the extra warhorses and Night Crows equipment, they were purchased at market price and would be transported to the capital later in the blink of an eye, they had become wealthy.
"The roads in Cintra are quite good. This is the first time I've ridden in a carriage that handles this smoothly." Zoltan rubbed his chin, which was now covered in blue-black stubble, and then forcefully slammed a card down on the board: "Commanders' Horn! For the melee units, and I pass."
Dandelion looked up, surprised at the dwarf: "You still have seven cards in hand. You're passing already?"
Zoltan gloated: "Great Poet, can't you read the situation? Even with the Horn's combat bonus, what do you have to fight me with?"
Though only an observer, Arthur was watching with relish. The pastime the two were using to kill time was called Gwent. It originated from the barrel card games popular among dwarves, and while simplifying the rules, it retained beautifully rendered artwork. It became instantly popular in human cities upon its introduction.
The rules of Gwent are simple enough to summarize in a few sentences: at the start of the match, both players draw ten cards as their starting hand, and they do not draw more throughout the game, except through specific card effects or winning a round. The round is decided by whichever player has the higher total combat strength on the board when both players pass. The first player to win two rounds takes the final victory.
For example, in the current round, Zoltan had sequentially played [Nekker] and [Dwarven Skirmisher] in the first two turns, bringing his total board strength to 15. Dandelion's first card, [Blue Stripes Commando] with a strength of 4, was standard enough. But in the second turn, the poet lost his head and played [Prince Stennis], which immediately boosted Zoltan's strength by 5 points.
Now, with a [Commanders' Horn] hitting the board, Zoltan's card strength instantly doubled, reaching a crushing total of 40 points. For a moment, it seemed the poet only had two choices: either concede the current round and hope to gain the advantage in the subsequent two; or empty his hand trying to salvage the situation, paying the price of being severely handicapped in the next rounds.
However, far from looking distressed, Dandelion's face lit up after Zoltan passed. He slammed a card depicting a snow-covered village onto the table: "Biting Frost! Now your strength is down to only 14 points!"
Two white streaks covered the cards on both sides. Zoltan's card strength was now reduced to 2, and Dandelion's was even worse, down to only 1.
"'Dwarven Scum,' you're no better off! You're at 1 point!"
"Don't rush, I haven't passed yet!" Dandelion smirked cunningly and placed another card down softly:
[Scorch]