36 Floating Harbor

Floating Harbor is a port town in the Kingdom of Temeria, located in the Pontar Valley, built along the upper reaches of the Pontar River, surrounded by impassable bushes and forests.

This is an important trade toll station in Temeria. There is an army stationed there all year round. Any ship going here needs to pay a trade tax. A large number of merchant ships dock here to buy supplies, which also makes this remote town near the border contributes to the peculiar prosperity of this remote town near the border between Temeria and Kaedwen.

Wayne and Geralt disembarked at the port of this small town. After bidding farewell to the generous bearded Captain Wesker of Skellig, they entered the trading town.

There are not many residents in the town, only a few hundred or so in total. There are quite a few members of the elves and dwarves. Observing their words and actions, it appeared that the non-human races in this town have not suffered too much unfair treatment. At least you can see smiles on their faces.

The streets were filled with pedestrians, showcasing a diverse mix of gorgeously dressed businessmen, tourists, and sailors with rough skin and coarse behavior. Along the street, numerous shops lined the way, ranging from blacksmiths to bookstores and clothing stores. Despite the town's relatively small size, it seemed to encompass a variety of essential establishments.

Apparently, it was the great trade on the Ponta River that brought life to this remote town.

Upon entering the town, Geralt, the seasoned adventurer, couldn't resist the allure of what appeared to be the largest tavern in the vicinity. It was a three-story tavern. It looked a bit dilapidated on the outside, but the overall decoration was quite gorgeous. It was obvious that his boss had put a lot of thought into it.

Outside the tavern, several young women, scantily clad, leaned against the door frame and windows, enticing passersby with seductive glances. It was evident to any man what kind of establishment it was.

Geralt was tickled by the eyes of those girls, he nudged Wayne with his elbow, showed a slightly sullen smile, "Wayne, let's head to that inn for some rest. We'll wait a couple of days before heading to Vizima."

"After staying on Wesker's boat for so long, my body is numb, and the only food we had on that ship is soup and little water. It's time to have a good meal."

Wayne shot Geralt a contemptuous look. Where do you plan on finding good food?

Of course, he knew exactly what this guy wanted to do, but they were companions, so they had to accommodate each other and not interfere too much with each other's actions, so he nodded and said:

"Alright, let's take a break here for two days. Also, check if there are any commissions we can fulfill in the area."

As the first trading town they had come across, Wayne was eager to explore the local tavern to see if he could find a few Gwent masters, further honing his skills and gaining experience.

He didn't rush into the tavern but strolled toward the women leaning outside, effortlessly striking up a conversation. In no time, he had charmed two young girls, with his arms around the girls' waists, with an indescribably happy expression on his face.

With money in their pockets, they spared no expense, opting for the two best rooms. Leaving Wayne with a knowing smile, Geralt couldn't wait to escort the two women upstairs to the second floor.

Wayne looked at the white wolf's back with contempt and snorted disdainfully.

As witchers, their bodies underwent mutations, resulting in a metabolic rate dozens of times faster than that of ordinary people. This alteration not only bestowed upon them superior drug resistance and recovery speeds but also heightened hormone levels several times over those of regular individuals.

This has also led to the fact that witchers have been in a state of emotional depression all year round, and need to vent their desires frequently. Many witchers have weird personalities, even a little crazy, and this is also because of this reason.

And the robust physique and heightened energy make witchers always inseparable from women. It is precisely because of this that many female sorceress like to find a witchter as a bed partner.

Following his parting from Geralt, Wayne didn't immediately entered his room. He held no interest in the mundane allurements of the tavern. Instead, he purchased a bottle of top-tier cherry mead from the bartender, selected a clean seat, and attentively observed the surroundings.

The tavern's hall was quite spacious. Being the sole large tavern in the floating port, it boasted a considerable number of guests dining at this hour. Merchants, sailors, captains, tourists, and local residents—altogether around 50 people—occupied tables in groups of twos and threes. Laughter, banter, boasting, drinking, and occasional brawls filled the air, creating a lively and vibrant atmosphere.

After about three minutes of observation, Wayne found his target—a portly businessman adorned in a silk robe and a small, round fur hat perched atop his head. His facial features were densely packed together, rendering him unattractive, yet the friendly smile on the corner of his mouth seemed amiable.

However, this was not something Wayne cared about. The reason why he noticed him was because Wayne had clearly seen that an exquisite leather bag containing the Gwent brand was hanging on the belt around his waist, shaking slightly. The businessman was apparently also a fan of Gwent.

Wayne walked up to him with the wine bottle, exchanged glances with the fat businessman, and then generously took out his Gwent card, put it on the table in front of the businessman, with a kind smile on his mouth, and asked

"Sir, wouldn't it be too boring to drink alone? How about a game of Gwent to liven things up a bit?"

The fat businessman signaled his two bodyguards to halt when Wayne approached.

He scrutinized Wayne from head to toe with shrewd eyes, eventually focusing on his amber cat-like pupils for a few seconds before breaking into a signature business smile. His voice, a tad high-pitched, remarked,

"A witcher who also plays Gwent. What reason do I have to decline?

"My name is Dalanke Revardon, a businessman from the south. Nice to meet you, Witcher."

Wayne didn't talk nonsense, and sat directly opposite the fat businessman, took out ten ducats from his pocket as a bet, placed them in the middle of the table, and said, "You can call me Wayne, Mr. Revarden. I'm just a Gwent novice, and my hand only holds fairly common cards. Please be gentle, and don't let me suffer too embarrassingly".

Upon hearing this, the fat businessman nodded kindly, the smile at the corner of his mouth involuntarily widening. He chuckled and spoke in a warm yet polite tone,

"That's a simple request, Mr. Wayne. I'm also quite new to this game. We can chat while playing. I'm very interested in what kind of adventures that you have experienced as a Witcher."