Chapter 374: Are a cultist of the shoe god?
"Your Majesty, your visit to Maribor is my great honor."
"Mmm."
Foltest nodded, his face pale, offering only a few polite formalities. Before leaving, he had undergone yet another cleansing ritual.
Although the sorceresses claimed he only needed two or three more sessions to completely purge the Deep Sea Mark, the ritual itself was utterly exhausting. He harbored a strange, lingering fear that the cleansing might kill him right along with the mark.
Years ago, when he was still a prince on a short incognito trip, he had heard a joke from a bard in a Vizima tavern:
If a village is struck by a terrible plague, one so virulent that even brief contact infects ordinary people, and there is virtually no cure—not even magic can help—what should be done?
The crowd offered various answers. The bard, however, smiled and offered the optimal solution: Simply use fire and sword to kill all the infected villagers and burn the entire village to the ground.
When the sick are gone, the plague loses its host, and the spread of the virus is naturally halted.
Foltest didn't know why this joke suddenly sprang to mind. Perhaps his physical condition was so poor that his thoughts were starting to uncontrollably drift.
"Your Majesty? Your Majesty!"
Foltest snapped back to attention, seeing his cousin, Prince Yourcast of Maribor, looking at him with concern.
"Your Majesty, I have prepared a grand feast in the city, hoping to wash away the fatigue of your journey."
Foltest, however, couldn't muster the energy to deal with the nobles, merchants, and bureaucrats of Maribor.
"That won't be necessary. Prepare a resting chamber for me, and send food there."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Yourcast personally escorted Foltest to his own manor in the city. When he learned the King would be visiting Maribor, he had already ordered his usual residence to be thoroughly cleaned and refurbished.
Afterward, he personally went to the kitchen to supervise the royal chefs. It wasn't until the King had eaten and retired that Yourcast left the manor and walked to a small building not far away.
Yourcast took out a key and unlocked a door inside the small building. The locked room contained no furniture. Yourcast closed the door and locked it from the inside.
He walked to the center of the room, looking around as if trying to discern something. Then, using his sword like a cane, he tapped the ground about half a meter away from him.
The next moment, a faint scraping sound was heard. A square meter of wooden floor slid open by itself, revealing a wooden ladder leading down. A cold, salty breeze wafted up from below the ladder.
Yourcast descended, reaching the end of the ladder, which led to a stone passage sloping gently downwards. The space within the passage was strangely constricted, as if it were not built for a normal human to traverse, but for a creature much smaller than a man.
Holding a torch, Yourcast walked bent-double along the stone path. After walking for an unknown amount of time, the passage suddenly opened up.
He was now standing in an extremely spacious cavern. Aside from the small patch of shore where he stood, everything visible was an immense, wide black lake. A darkness so thick it could not be dissipated hung over the water. Even the torch in Yourcast's hand flickered weakly, like a dying ember.
Suddenly, the vast black lake rippled, and circles of waves spread outward. A tentacle extended from beneath the surface.
Upon seeing the tentacle, Yourcast immediately knelt down with an expression of utter devotion, as if facing a god.
"My Lord."
A whispering sound echoed in his mind: "sfghsdkg..."
"But, My Lord, Foltest did not come alone. He has two sorceresses with him. If we continue the blasphemous ritual, those two sorceresses might detect it and disrupt Your grand plan."
"ikqeurznmcxv..."
"Understood, My Lord. I am willing to give anything for You, including my life."
Foltest was walking again on the endless street.
Only this time, the street had a nightmarishly grotesque quality. The buildings on both sides looked as though they had been waterlogged, appearing moldy and decayed. Despite seeing no river, the walls of the structures were covered in barnacles, seaweed, and water grasses.
The amulet hanging around his neck suddenly grew scorching hot, like a branding iron. Foltest immediately woke up.
He sat on the soft, large bed, breathing heavily, looking at the dark night outside the window, all sleep gone.
As soon as the sky began to lighten slightly, he impatiently ordered his guards to summon the two sorceresses.
When Triss and Keira arrived at Foltest's chamber, the King sent the guards out and had the door firmly shut. He then lifted his brocade nightshirt.
Upon seeing the King's abdomen, both sorceresses gasped in horror. Large, deep-purple patterns, resembling octopus tentacles, had appeared across his stomach.
Triss was utterly perplexed. Though Dagon was an Elder God, Its power should be significantly diminished far from major bodies of water like lakes or the sea. Otherwise, humans, Dwarves, and Elves would have long since become Dagon's slaves, and this world would have turned into a deep-sea playground. She could not fathom what was happening.
Keira's brow was tightly furrowed. "Triss, even so, do you still advise against His Majesty seeking refuge at Aretuza? If not, at least let Marguerite come to Maribor."
But at that moment, Triss thought of another candidate. A handsome, black-haired youth flashed into her mind.
If it were him, perhaps he could make the impossible possible...
Rustbelt Trading was the most famous international trading company of Kovir and Poviss, bar none. All overseas business for both Kovir and Poviss passed through this company. Although affiliated with those kingdoms, the company's headquarters were not located within their borders, but in the Free City of Novigrad.
Today, a black-haired witcher arrived outside the Rustbelt Trading headquarters building.
"Please wait a moment, sir," the guards outside the headquarters stopped Lynn. "Please state your identity and the purpose of your visit."
"Witcher Lynn. I hope to discuss a partnership with the most important person at Rustbelt Trading."
"A witcher, is it?"
The guards confirmed his identity from Lynn's unhidden cat eyes, the two swords on his back, and the witcher medallion pinned to his chest.
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