Chapter 290: Ah, Skellige, My Unmet Third Home
This led to a series of conflicts between the two clans. After enough blood had been spilled, they finally marked their border with a fence, effectively dividing Ard Skellig in two and outlining the territorial boundaries between Clan Drummond and Clan Craite. But the dispute between the two clans over their land was never truly resolved.
After completing his witcher contract at the mine, Lynn went to a tavern in the nearby Port of Holmstein. He planned to get a good meal and some rest. He had already cleared out all the contracts on Ard Skellig and was preparing to sail to Spikeroog Island.
By now, there was hardly anyone on Ard Skellig who didn't know him. Without the prejudice and discrimination he was used to on the continent, Lynn's deeds were quickly woven into songs that were sung all over the island. This newfound fame had its benefits.
For example, when he arrived at the tavern in Holmstein Port, the owner refused to charge him a single coin. In fact, he was delighted to have the chance to host the Master Witcher. This kind of reception was almost impossible on the continent (with the exception of Toussaint).
As Lynn was eating, he heard the tavern door open with a loud thud. A squad of Drummond soldiers walked in.
"What can I get you, sirs? Something to eat? Something to drink? I've got some fresh fish that just came in, fried and salted 'til they're crispy. They're delicious." The tavern owner hurried out from behind the counter to greet them enthusiastically.
"We're not here to eat," the leading soldier said, waving him away. "You just do your work and don't mind us. We'll be gone soon."
"Oh... alright. Please, find a seat, sirs. I'll bring you some ale." The tavern owner hesitated for a moment, then quickly recovered and scurried back behind the counter, bringing a round of ale for each soldier.
The Drummond clan members might have lacked great abilities, but at least they didn't, unlike some wretched continental nobles, allow their men to harass the common folk. So the tavern owner served them willingly.
Lynn, who was eating on the other side of the room, took in the entire scene. From the soldiers' undisguised expressions and gazes, he was almost certain they were there to find him. But Lynn had not done anything on the islands that would get him arrested, so he wasn't worried. He continued to slowly eat his meal.
After he was full and had rested for a while to let his food settle, he finally stood up. The Drummond soldiers, who had been growing visibly impatient, quickly came over.
"You must be Master Lynn? We are soldiers of Clan Drummond. Our jarl invites you to be a guest at Kaer Muire Castle."
A guest? More like he has some work for me, I bet. Lynn kept his thoughts to himself and simply nodded. "Alright, please lead the way."
Following the soldiers, Lynn arrived at Kaer Muire Castle, not far from Holmstein Port. Compared to Clan Craite's Kaer Trolde Castle, Kaer Muire looked a lot less impressive. But that was understandable.
Kaer Trolde Port was the largest and most important port on the islands, with an astonishing throughput, while Holmstein Port under Clan Drummond's control was deserted. A stagnant port meant a stagnant economy and no tax revenue, and naturally, no money to maintain a castle.
When they arrived at a clearing in the castle, it was crowded with people. In the center of the clearing, two big men were fighting. One of the men wore an eye patch and lavish clothes with the unmistakable crest of Clan Drummond embroidered on his chest.
Even without an introduction, Lynn could guess this was the jarl of Clan Drummond. The soldiers were about to announce Lynn's arrival, but Lynn stopped them. So the group stood on the edge of the clearing, watching the fight.
After only a moment, Lynn saw what was happening. The jarl's opponent was clearly holding back. He was defending more than he was attacking, and he ignored every opportunity to strike. With such deliberate restraint, the jarl naturally won the fight easily. The crowd cheered as if their leader had just defeated an ice giant.
"Jarl," the soldier who had led Lynn there finally spoke up.
The jarl, who was wiping the sweat from his face with a towel handed to him by a subordinate, turned his head. He saw Lynn standing next to the soldiers and walked over. "I am Lugos 'the One-Eyed,' the jarl of Clan Drummond. You must be the Master Witcher who's been making a name for himself on Ard Skellig lately? You don't look very strong."
"Sir, a fight isn't just about who is stronger."
"Fair point. How about we have a round?"
Lynn shook his head.
Lugos "the One-Eyed" laughed. "What, are you afraid I'll hurt you?"
Lynn also laughed. "No, I'm afraid I'll hurt you."
The atmosphere suddenly grew tense. The people around them looked at Lynn nervously. Then, Lugos "the One-Eyed" burst into uproarious laughter. The others looked at each other and then joined in.
Truthfully, Lugos knew that every time he wanted to spar, his men held back because he was their jarl. No matter if he got angry or gave them an order, the result was always the same. In the end, he was powerless to stop it.
The crowd dispersed, and Lugos "the One-Eyed" gestured for Lynn to come into the jarl's longhouse. He ordered some drinks to be brought out for his guest. The ale served to guests of the Drummond jarl was naturally not the same cheap beer sold in taverns.
It was Redanian beer. The Northern Kingdoms all had their own famous local brews, such as Vizima Champion, Redanian beer, and Kaedwenian Stout. Because Temeria and Redania were relatively close to the Skellige Isles, Vizima Champion and Redanian beer sold very well there.
After a few rounds of drinks, Lugos "the One-Eyed" praised Lynn's drinking ability. He then got straight to the point, revealing the reason for inviting Lynn to the castle.
"I know you came ashore at Kaer Trolde Port. Clan Craite has always liked to suck up to continentals, with no real Skellige grit in them, but I'm different. Master Witcher, I've never been to the continent—ha, not counting raids, that is—but I've heard rumors about you. They say that besides dealing with monsters, you sometimes take jobs to make problems disappear for a fee."
"The rumors you've heard are incorrect, Lord Lugos," Lynn said, taking another swig of Redanian beer.
"Witchers are not assassins and don't take on assassin's work. I don't know who you want to deal with, and I have no intention of meddling, but I won't do such a thing. It's against the witcher's code of neutrality."
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