Chapter 1387 - 1352: Chance Encounter at the Market

Lann went out as usual this time. He wanted to find his old friend Belengar for a chat and to replenish the little items he had used up.

Things like flying knives, hooks, and padlocks.

These items are rarely needed, given Lann’s current combat prowess.

However, anyone who has ever traveled knows that these little gadgets can save a lot of trouble when truly required. Moreover, Lann’s "journeys" are often extraordinarily dangerous.

Being able to reduce hassle through better preparation naturally means there’s no reason not to do it.

Additionally, this armor had to be maintained by Belengar. The material from Smaug is good, but meticulous maintenance is also important.

Lann headed towards the city’s outskirts, where a large workshop district had emerged in recent years due to the Valyrian Steel business.

Most of the time, he walked on muddy ground, with only occasional chances to step onto stone-brick paths.

Lann first passed the city hall, on top of this official building, a silhouette-like gold rooster weather vane spun in circles with the sea breeze.

Next was the pungent, yet distinctly Gos Velen-style fish market.

The roof shelters here were dotted with many seagulls, all waiting to eat the innards discarded by fishermen after gutting the fish.

Their incessant "gagging" noise was maddening, yet looking at the expressions of the fish mongers and crowds haggling, quarrelling, and cursing as usual, it seemed everyone had become accustomed to this sound.

Wildcats that feigned indifference lined the fish market street, each targeting both seagulls and fish innards.

Passing through the fish market, he would originally continue diagonally towards the base of the city walls, through the similarly famous market square of this city, until reaching the workshop area.

But Lann stepped back a few paces after passing the market square, peeking towards the bustling and crowded marketplace.

"Is today market day?"

Lann mumbled in confusion beneath the shadow of his hood.

Immediately, Mentos projected the adjusted calendar onto his mind.

Indeed, today was market day.

Typically, the two markets should be equally reputable within the city, but today the market square overwhelmingly outshone the fish market.

There are two gatherings every month, at the start and middle, but Lann usually misses them due to traveling. Besides, he seldom needed to buy anything himself from the market.

Thus, even though he’d been in Gos Velen for more than two years, he really hadn’t seen the market on a busy day.

This time was no exception.

Lann paused and stepped back mainly because he heard familiar voices amid the market’s cacophony.

Yet it was so chaotic here, even his extraordinary Demon Hunter senses made him wonder if he was merely hearing things.

"Belengar!" Lann shouted into the crowd. "Belengar?"

No response, Lann’s voice drowned in the noise wave.

Luckily, with his remarkable height and observational skills, Lann spotted the familiar, primitive-looking elongated face.

-----------------

On this day, Gos Velen’s market was even more crowded and noisy than Novigrad’s dock square.

By contrast, the fish market Lann had passed resembled a quiet Divine Hall in morning prayer.

It’s not just noisy but crowded like a school of sardines.

Just standing outside watching made people lose the courage to squeeze inside.

Fortunately, Lann wasn’t bothered by this.

In fact, the young man beneath the hood smirked with entertained interest.

Occasionally attending a market was still quite amusing to him.

Especially after experiencing Yan’an’s Dream Realm, a truly ghostly and eerie journey.

Lann even thought of dragging Maria and Adeline along to sense what real "humanity" felt like.

Vendors were shouting, customers shouted even more fiercely, lost children cried without stopping. Cattle and sheep were active around the market, along with chickens, ducks, and geese, all waiting to be sold or slaughtered on-site. The sounds of various livestock merged together.

In a corner of the square, a mix of flutes, violins, and lutes indicated the presence of minstrels and musicians aiming to earn amidst the crowd.

But frustratingly, a horn-seller who wasn’t a musician and whose small trumpet wasn’t a musical instrument kept blowing away non-stop.

Lann’s expression soured, moving his neck back to distance himself. This was nowhere near music.

He wouldn’t mind noise during a fight, but now, with a relaxed mood, his environmental and musical standards naturally heightened.

Despite the surging crowd, the young Demon Hunter wasn’t squeezed; he feared bumping into others more, thus walked cautiously.

However, with his agility, he managed to buy a fried pastry halfway along.

It was at a stall run by a rough, sullen Half-Elf. Though called fried pastry, it seemed more like a filled egg pancake to him — just filled with sweet raspberry jam instead.

The rich raspberry sweetness mixed with grease brightened Lann’s mood once more.

The horn sound ceased as well, presumably the horn-blower had met mishap.

Smirking, Lann fed on his internal commentary.

After two bites of his "raspberry jam-filled pancake," he sidestepped a darting wildcat and let a smelly, matted-furred camel pass.

Lann finally reached his friend’s side.

Belengar was busy arguing vehemently with a Dwarf who ran a blacksmith shop in the market.

The dwarf looked impatient, clanging away at steel plates with his hands, and whenever he had a moment, he took swigs from an iron flask, then cocked his head and spat with curses.

"How many times have I advised you? Just go back to the Workshop District and work diligently, wouldn’t that solve everything? You just had to have a falling-out with Master Butcher, didn’t you?"

"It’s that old ghost who sought trouble with me! Can’t I just quit this job? So damn annoying."

"Quitting this job?" Belengar shouted, veins bulging on his neck to make sure his voice wasn’t drowned out by the noisy market. "That’s easier said than done!"

"Do you think I care about your lousy skills? I am a damn Master Blacksmith!"

"The problem is right now! A dwarf like you storming off in anger! What will other dwarf and half-elf craftsmen think? They’ll feel like you were wronged by the human craftsmen!"

"I’ll go and explain it to them myself!" The dwarf blacksmith slapped the flask onto the table and shouted with a stiff neck, "This is my personal conflict, has nothing to do with anything else!"

"Explain it? You?" Belengar sneered, "Do you think others will believe you once you explain? They’ll just believe I shut your mouth!"

"Temerian prisons have plenty of the wrongly accused, why can’t they explain themselves? Because no one believes them even when they do!"

Belengar’s momentum was overwhelming the dwarf, though it was unclear whether it was due to his loud voice or his identity as a Master Blacksmith.

However, Lann stepped forward and patted this Master’s shoulder.

Belengar impatiently turned his head, suspiciously scanning the hooded cloaked man greeting him.

"Hello, sir. Do you need anything?"

In Temeria, and even across the Northern Territory and Niflgaard, this Master Blacksmith was quite renowned for Valyrian Steel, yet he spoke somewhat frustratingly with impatience.

"Save the networking; if you’re wearing that magic cloak to scare off the riff-raff, fine, but I don’t have any discounts to offer here. If you want to buy goods, just go directly to the Valerian Commerce Association near the workshop district."

After saying it as if it were business, Belengar prepared to turn his head back to continue entangling with the stubborn dwarf blacksmith.

Lann tilted his head.

Using his height, he scanned left and right over the crowd.

Now the market plaza was surging with people, but besides tall horses and camels and such, there were indeed several others like him.

Wearing hooded cloaks, moving around like they were over two meters tall.

It seems that, with its fame and the ability to confuse observation, the magic cloak had already established quite a presence.

Upon closer look, though, the figures other than Lann amidst the crowd, seemingly tall and strong in form, were swayed and drifted by the tide of people.

Quite different from Lann’s immovable stance despite being jostled.

In the crowd, people could hardly see scenes two or three steps away, thus no one noticed the difference.

Lann snickered lightly, extended an arm from beneath the cloak, and placed it on Belengar’s shoulder.

The Old Demon Hunter was still upset, wondering which persistent person wanted to network with him.

But then, he saw the hand pressing on his shoulder, wrapped in hand armor.

Not only he noticed it, but the dwarf blacksmith who just took a sip of liquor, instantly widened his eyes, spurting out the drink he hadn’t yet swallowed!

That armor...!

Belengar glared at the dwarf blacksmith, and then without more chatter, turned to shove Lann into the chaotic crowd.

At the current degree of crowding, taking one step past the stall meant being buried in the throng.

The two quickly vanished from the dwarf’s sight.

"You’re back? When? Why didn’t you say a thing?"

As they jostled through, Belengar began speaking. In the crowded market with noises everywhere, they surprisingly found it safe to talk.

"Just got back!" Lann hollered with his head lowered, but in the buzzing background noise, he had to shout. "Was just coming to find you, ran into you here. What are you doing?"

Belengar pinched the bridge of his nose in agony, closed his eyes, and shouted.

"A dwarf craftsman quit, resigned."

"Is he pretty skilled?" Lann asked curiously.

"Skilled? He’s got squat! Just a bit efficient, nothing much else." Belengar snorted coldly, "The crux isn’t his skills, but his identity!"

"Now, I’ve just calmed the people on both sides, but with him leaving, elves, half-elves, dwarves, half-elves are getting nervous again. They’re privately spreading rumors that my previous appeasement was secretly setting up for a move! Damn it!"

Non-human racial craftsmen are scared.

Considering their current situation and the societal atmosphere, they have ample reason to be afraid.

And when fear kicks in, even the brightest minds can stall, any foolish act can be done out of panic, just like an unstable barrel of gunpowder.

"It’s not a big deal, I can bring him back today."

Belengar waved dismissively, conveying it wasn’t worth discussing further.

"Indeed, it’s not a big deal."

Actually, it was Lann who seemed unconcerned by the hassle from Belengar.

While walking side by side, beneath the hooded cloak, Lann frowned and glanced at a makeshift podium set up in the crowd.

"The thing is... now even Gos Velen is filled with this type?"

"What?"

Belengar instinctively asked in confusion, then followed Lann’s gaze to look around.

Amid the simple platform made of wooden barrels, a bald-headed, plump figure dressed in burlap robes climbed up.