Time flies, and two months passed in the blink of an eye, bringing us to midsummer in July 1250.
During these past two months, Wayne has invested heavily in purchasing raw materials. He has spent nearly 1000 Oren each month to train his skills in alchemy, potion-making, and forging, bringing them all to level four. Although alchemy is on the verge of being upgraded, both alchemy and forging have recently been promoted.
Additionally, Wayne's diligent practice of archery has paid off. His archery skills have reached level three after consuming numerous metal arrows. This proficiency allows him to effectively wield ancient bows and arrows from the Middle Ages, meeting the standards for actual combat.
However, despite the accuracy of the elven bow and arrows gifted to him by Toruviel, they fail to match the pulling force of Wayne's witcher strength, which is nearly four times that of an ordinary person. As a result, Wayne finds himself in need of a stronger bow.
Over the past two months, Wayne and Fitz have worked tirelessly, resulting in the death of hundreds of acolytes. Despite their slow reaction, the acolyte leaders in the underwater city have begun to notice the disturbance.
Subsequently, the remaining half-fish people ceased slipping out of their lairs and instead chose to retreat, forcing Wayne to halt his activities.
However, Wayne is not without a plan. To aid the lake goddess in resolving this issue, he intends to enlist the help of two female sorceresses, Keira and Triss, for an adventure in the underwater city when the opportunity arises.
When the time comes, Wayne plans to invite a few fellow witchers to join forces in cleaning up the hidden danger on the shore of Lake Vizima all at once, as a way of repaying the favor to the lake goddess.
This afternoon, he visited Master O Henry's blacksmith shop to continue learning forging techniques and playing cards, as was his usual routine. Over the years, the old blacksmith has accumulated a wealth of high-quality forging materials. Leveraging his superior Gwent skills, Wayne has managed to obtain many of these materials from the master dwarf blacksmith, much to the old man's chagrin.
Despite this, Wayne isn't one to be stingy. To make amends for consistently winning against Master O. Henry, he brings a bottle of fine wine and homemade snacks with him each time he visits. This gesture never fails to please the old dwarf, who becomes even more fond of Wayne than his own nephew, Andrew. Andrew, in turn, often grumbles about this favoritism, only to be placated with even more wine by Wayne.
"Hey, Brother Wayne, guess what?" Andrew greeted excitedly upon Wayne's arrival, taking a swig from a jug of dwarf spirits he had conveniently acquired. "A witcher visited the shop this morning. His silver sword was damaged and is currently being repaired by the old blacksmith."
Intrigued by Andrew's gossip, Wayne leaned in closer. It had been nearly six months since he left Kaer Morhen, and aside from Geralt, he hadn't encountered any other witchers or heard much news.
Wayne wasted no time in questioning Andrew further: "Do you know where he headed, Andrew?"
Taking another hefty swig from the jug, Andrew's excitement seemed to intensify despite the reddening of his face from the potent alcohol. "He probably went to the Fox Tavern. It's the cheapest spot around, perfect for someone dressed in rags like him."
"He's set to pick up his sword tomorrow morning, so he'll likely be spending the night in Vizima," Andrew added.
Hearing this, Wayne felt a surge of anticipation. Passing a basket of food and drink to Andrew, he said, "Consider this an appetizer. There's roast chicken and beef in there. Take it to your uncle, Henry. But be discreet, or you might find yourself with another mouthful."
Accepting the basket, Andrew casually tore into a chicken leg and mumbled between bites, "No worries. I've got thick skin. A few slaps here and there don't bother me."
Amused by Andrew's nonchalant demeanor, Wayne bid him farewell and headed straight for the Fox Tavern. It had been a while since his last visit, and it was also an opportunity to see his good friend Aunt Melissa, who had been a great help to his mother.
After navigating the slums for about five minutes, Wayne arrived at the old tavern, its chimney billowing smoke from the kitchen, a familiar sight welcoming him back.
It being noon, there weren't many patrons in the tavern. As Wayne approached, he spotted Yueke squatting by the gate, puffing on his pipe with a leisurely air.
Opening one eye lazily, the old man caught sight of Wayne's refined appearance and couldn't resist a jab. "Well, well, if it isn't Master Wayne gracing our humble establishment. What brings a fine gent like you to our rundown tavern? Doesn't quite suit your stature, does it?"
Knowing the old man's penchant for banter, Wayne brushed off the remark and tossed him a pack of tobacco he'd just purchased. "Cut the act, old man. Consider it a tribute."
Sniffing the tobacco, Old Yueke regarded Wayne with a shrewd look. "So, what's the deal? Need my help, or did you get yourself into trouble again and need me to bail you out?"
Wayne chuckled, shaking his head. Despite some past annoyances with him, he had no grudges now. "Can't I just drop by for a visit?"
The old man scoffed, clearly seeing through Wayne's facade. "You? Visiting me out of the blue? I know you better than that. Spit it out, kid. What do you need?"
Wayne nodded, conceding. "Fair enough. Truth is, I heard there's a witcher here. Thought I'd introduce myself."
Old Yueke nodded in acknowledgment, taking another drag of his pipe. "Aye, there's one. Got a Griffin medallion on him, different from your Wolf School medallion. He's over by the back door. Seems decent enough."
With a hint of warning, he added, "But remember, colleagues can be rivals. If you're here for a brawl, keep it outside. I won't tolerate my tavern being trashed."