nagpurpolice Chapter 107 Miodrag
Chapter 107 Miodrag
Chapter 107 Miodrag
Faced with this scene, Paul and Aiken, the young generation of witchers, had never seen the prejudice against witchers in the world. Their eyes gleamed with excitement, and they silently raised their heads, feeling somewhat smug.
The Marquis of Louis-Boldt removed his gloves and extended his right hand.
"As per the previous demon-hunting commission, I will increase the bounty for you by one thousand crowns."
"Furthermore, I will propose to the King this month a draft to abolish the booklet 'Freaks, or Descriptions of Witchers,' and condemn Atamon's illegal actions."
"I can't guarantee whether this will work out, but at least in my territory, in the Upper Lands, you will no longer see this brochure, and we welcome your arrival."
"Witcher, please accept my gratitude."
Vesemir took a deep breath and extended his palm.
"We accept your generosity, Marquis Louis-Pold. It is a pleasure to cooperate with you."
The Marquis smiled and grasped the former's hand.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you! Please tell me your name; you look like a seasoned witcher."
"Vesemir".
"Oh, Mr. Vesemir, it's an honor to meet you."
The atmosphere eased on Louispold's side, but it was a different story on Grafiacan's side.
A knight went to investigate Seville's carriage and found that the lady had died inside the carriage, inside the golem made by Atamon.
The deaths of so many knights and squires are enough to cripple Grafiacan.
An older knight named Grafiakan looked grief-stricken and kept sighing.
"It's over, Grafiakan—"
Suddenly, a rifleman pointed south towards Raven Ridge, his voice trembling.
"My God! What is that?"
Everyone looked toward the location he had indicated.
Beneath the boundless expanse of ink, a raging fire ignited.
The towering flames turned the golden buildings into something resembling sulfur, billowing black smoke like the tentacles of a black beast, slowly engulfing the city.
A black figure swirled continuously in the sky above the city.
Marquis Louis-Pold's mouth gaped open, and he froze completely in place.
"There—there is—"
The seven men, including Vesemir, looked over, their cat-like eyes menacing, and gripped their sword hilts tightly once more.
This is the capital of Cordwin, Adkalay.
The fire burned in the city all night.
Thick black smoke obscured the sky like a thick curtain, blocking out the morning sunlight, creating a hazy, gray expanse.
Inside a massive T-shaped palace, the longer section has narrow, tall windows that are almost level with the tops of the columns supporting the ceiling.
Each window is stained with stained glass, depicting nude figures and epic knightly tales; the production was extremely costly.
The sound of armor rubbing against each other rang out one after another.
The gilded gate was pushed open, and several knights in silver and gold armor hurriedly escorted the group inside.
"call----"
Inside the silent palace, heavy, disordered breathing could be heard.
"Medical doctor! Medical doctor!"
"Damn it, you blockhead, put him down right now!"
The man shouted, his face gloomy, his gray-blue eyes sharp as an eagle's.
He wore a wine-red brocade crown, had deep-set features, and a thick, curly reddish-brown beard covering his lower jaw.
He wore a brocade robe of the same color with dark patterns and fine gold trim, a pure gold chain around his neck, and a bronze unicorn plaque engraved with the royal coat of arms hanging from his neck.
He is the King of Cordwin, His Majesty Miodrag.
The royal knight obeyed and hurriedly put the man he was carrying on his back on the ground.
The man had snow-white hair, an aged and gaunt face, and amber cat-like eyes filled with unbearable pain.
His black leather jacket was scorched by the flames, clinging tightly to his skin and emitting the smell of burnt, roasted meat.
"Medical doctor! Medical doctor!"
The sound of orders being relayed echoed continuously within the palace.
Miodrag looked at the white-haired man and said in a deep voice, "Witcher, don't worry, I won't let you die here."
Holt gripped the silver sword tightly in his right hand, while his left hand kept reaching for his pouch, and he was hissing and panting.
"Potion—Potion—"
Miodrag immediately bent down, intending to rummage through Holt's fanny pack.
"Your Majesty, this is improper. Please have a servant handle it."
An elderly man with white hair, dressed in a white robe and wearing a judge's hat, spoke breathlessly, his eyes filled with wariness and disdain as he looked at Holt.
The Chief Justice of the Royal Capital, Cordwin.
"Shut up, Wesley! There are no servants here!"
Miodrag opened his pouch and pulled out several colorful glass bottles, hot enough to burn his hand when held.
"Is it that bottle? The Witcher?"
"Black————"
Miodrag removed the cap and poured all the liquid into Holt's mouth.
The coolness of the [Swallow] potion entering her body caused the latter's tightly furrowed brows to relax.
Miodrag breathed a sigh of relief, the dangerous moment just now constantly replaying in his mind.
This afternoon, as usual, he listened to the housekeeper's work report in his study.
It mentions that a witcher came to the Royal Court, questioned the assassination of Count Grafiacan years ago, and presented new evidence.
As marquises of the royal domain, the Grafiakan family held a position in Cordwin second only to His Majesty the King.
In Miodrag's eyes, everything, no matter what it is, deserves to be magnified.
So he decided to meet the Witcher.
There is another reason.
Since the publication of "Freaks, or Descriptions of Witchers," the reputation of Witchers in Cordwin has been like that of rats in a sewer, utterly repulsive.
But for more than thirty years after Kael'thas fell, the Witcher was almost nowhere to be seen in Kaer Morhen.
Miodrag first heard the term for the first time at a dinner party hosted by the "Noble Gourmets" fraternity more than half a year ago.
The "Noble Gourmets" fraternity is one of the traditions of the Royal Family of Cordwin.
The king hosts this banquet every month and invites the country's top dignitaries to attend.
At the banquet, the king would set aside his monarchical dignity, refer to himself as honorary chairman, address everyone as colleagues, and share the food.
At that banquet, a delicious delicacy was served.
It is a bird monster even larger than an ostrich.
The moa, scientifically known as Elephantornis, was an extinct species.
It is understood that this moa was attacking the local people by the river, was killed by a white-haired witcher, and then offered up on this dinner table by the local mayor.
Therefore, Miodrag developed a slight curiosity about witchers.
I want to see this profession that is almost disappearing.
They had barely met when the dragon lizard golem, a gift from the Palace Academy of Magic, suddenly went berserk.
The dragon's flames engulfed the entire palace.
Even the mansions of some high-ranking officials and nobles have been reported to be in turmoil due to the golems.
Unfortunately, he was pursued by the dragon lizard golem.
If it weren't for the witcher's rescue, he would have died from the dragon lizard's flames.
Miodrag was only able to escape back to the palace thanks to the desperate protection of the royal knights.
Seeing that Holt had improved considerably, Miodrag straightened up and rubbed the medicine bottle in his hand.
"Your Majesty, although this palace is sturdy, I'm afraid it won't be able to stop that monster outside."
The voice of the Grand Judge of the Capital could be heard in my ears.
"I know," Miodrag gritted his teeth, "where are the wizards from Ban Ad Magic Academy!?"
The chief justice hurriedly said, "Wizard George is stopping the dragon lizard—"
"Shut up! I'm talking about wizards from other classes at Ade Magic Academy! Euclid! Artamon! Not that apprentice magic student who only learned a smattering of skills!"