LightReader

Chapter 23 - Escaping From Novigrad

The morning mist clung to Novigrad's cobblestones like a harbinger of change, and Geralt felt the weight of their precarious situation settling heavily upon his shoulders. What had begun as a successful venture into potion commerce had spiraled into a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Word of the miraculous healing draughts had spread beyond the confines of the Apothecaries' Guild—too far, and to the wrong ears.

The healing potions Geralt had brewed with such care and sold under his druid disguise had proven almost too effective. Reports filtered through the city's underground networks: sorcerers from distant towers were making inquiries, alchemist guilds were dispatching investigators, and even Church officials had begun asking pointed questions about the mysterious druid who had vanished as quickly as he had appeared.

Visenna's face was grave as she entered in the room, her healing satchel heavy with worry rather than herbs. "They're asking about the potions in the Ghetto," she murmured to Geralt, who stood by the window watching the street below. "Three different people today—claiming to be interested buyers, but their questions were too specific, too probing."

Eskel looked up from sharpening his blade. "How long do we have?"

"Not long," Vesemir replied, his weathered hands folding a map with practiced efficiency. "I've heard whispers in the guild halls. Someone is offering substantial coin for information about the druid who demonstrated such remarkable alchemy. They're closing in."

The decision was swift and unanimous—they would leave Novigrad before dawn, abandoning the comfortable life they had just established for the uncertain road ahead. But if they were to embark on this forced exile, they would do so properly equipped.

As twilight painted the sky in shades of amber and rust, Geralt made his way through the winding streets to the finest horse market in the merchant quarter. The establishment of Master Horvath, renowned throughout the northern kingdoms for breeding exceptional steeds, occupied a sprawling compound near the city's edge. Lanterns flickered in the gathering dusk, casting dancing shadows across the stable yards where magnificent animals moved with fluid grace.

Master Horvath himself emerged to greet his unexpected customer—a portly man with silver-streaked hair and eyes that spoke of decades spent judging horseflesh. "Young master Gerald," he said with a bow that suggested familiarity with wealthy clients. "Word of your recent successes has reached even these humble stables. How may I serve you this evening?"

Geralt's voice was steady, betraying none of the urgency that drove him. "I require seven horses of the finest quality—swift, sturdy, and suited for long journeys across varied terrain. Money is no object, but discretion is essential."

Horvath's eyes gleamed with the light of significant profit. "Seven mounts for extended travel... You speak my language, young master. Follow me."

The stable master led Geralt through rows of stalls where some of the Continent's finest horses awaited. Here stood a magnificent Zerrikanian black stallion, its coat gleaming like polished obsidian, bred for both speed and endurance across desert sands. There, a sturdy Temerian warhorse, its muscles rippling beneath a coat of deep chestnut, trained to carry a knight through the chaos of battle without flinching.

"For yourself," Horvath suggested, gesturing toward a stunning Nilfgaardian courser with a silver-dappled coat, "I recommend this mare—Shadowdancer. She possesses both the speed to outrun pursuit and the stamina to maintain pace for days without rest. Her bloodline traces back to the Emperor's own stables."

Geralt ran his hand along the mare's neck, feeling the power coiled beneath her elegant frame. Her dark eyes held intelligence and spirit—qualities that would serve him well on the uncertain path ahead. "She'll do excellently."

For Visenna, Horvath selected a gentle but resilient palfrey named Morningstar, whose steady gait and calm temperament would suit a healer's needs while carrying precious supplies and equipment safely across rough country.

Vesemir's mount was chosen with particular care—an experienced destrier called Ironheart, a veteran of campaigns whose steady nerves and unshakeable courage matched those of his intended rider. The horse bore small scars that spoke of battles survived, yet his spirit remained unbroken.

For the younger witchers, Horvath provided mounts that balanced youthful energy with proven reliability: Eskel received Thornwind, a powerful courser with a steel-gray coat; Jacob was paired with Swiftarrow, a lean bay gelding bred for speed and agility; Dick's mount was Goldmane, a spirited chestnut with white markings that seemed to dance in the lamplight; and Vicky would ride Nightwhisper, a dark mare whose quiet strength promised loyalty and endurance.

"These animals represent the finest bloodlines in the known world," Horvath explained as stable hands began preparing the horses with the best tack and equipment. "Each has been trained not just for riding, but for the rigors of adventure—they will not shy from monsters, will not panic in battle, and will carry their riders through terrain that would break lesser beasts."

The total cost was staggering—nearly eight thousand crowns for the seven mounts and their complete outfitting with saddles, bridles, saddlebags, and protective barding. Yet Geralt paid without hesitation, understanding that their lives might well depend on the quality of these animals in the trials ahead.

As the transaction concluded, Horvath leaned closer, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "Young master, I ask no questions about the urgency of your departure, but I will offer this advice: the northern roads toward Oxenfurt and beyond are safer than the southern routes toward Temeria. Bandits have been particularly active along the Pontar crossing."

Geralt nodded his appreciation for the intelligence. "Your discretion will be remembered and rewarded."

"And your patronage has already been reward enough. May the road rise to meet you, and may your horses carry you safely to whatever destination awaits."

As Geralt led the seven magnificent steeds through Novigrad's darkening streets, he reflected on the strange turns that fate had taken. What began as an attempt to establish a secure foundation had instead forced them back onto the Path—but this time, they would travel as lords of the road rather than wandering vagabonds.

Back at the townhouse, the companions worked through the night, packing their most essential possessions while abandoning the comfortable furnishings they had so recently acquired. Visenna secured her precious herbs and alchemical equipment; the apprentices bundled their weapons, armor, and personal effects; Vesemir studied maps and planned their initial route away from the city.

As dawn approached, they moved like shadows through the merchant quarter's quiet streets, leading their new mounts toward the city gates. The horses stepped proudly, their breath visible in the cool morning air, their hooves clicking softly against the cobblestones.

At the gate, guards who might normally have questioned such an early departure simply nodded respectfully—the quality of their horses and equipment spoke of wealth and legitimate business that required no explanation.

As Novigrad's towers faded into the morning mist behind them, Geralt felt the familiar mixture of regret and anticipation that accompanied every new beginning. They were leaving behind security and comfort, but they were also escaping the closing net of those who would use or destroy them.

Mounted on their splendid steeds, the Romeld Company rode toward an uncertain but adventurous future, their bond strengthened by shared danger and their capabilities enhanced by the finest horses money could buy. The road stretched before them, promising new challenges, new allies, and new legends to be forged in the crucible of the Path.

Behind them, Novigrad continued its ancient rhythms of commerce and intrigue, unaware that it had lost some of its most remarkable and dangerous residents to the wider world beyond its walls.

More Chapters