Game in Marvel-Chapter 141

Novigrad was a city of excess and blood. Gold and crime went hand in hand, and in its darkest corners, secrets thrived. The merchants had no intention of seeking out common assassins or mercenaries. They needed something more.

Something lethal.

Something with no weaknesses.

For weeks, they whispered in the right ears, let gold pass into the hands of men who dealt in hushed voices and fear. They made careful inquiries, using coded language to avoid drawing the attention of the coroner in Novigrad.

Hubert Rejk.

This man was an enigma to everyone who knew about him. He was a Higher vampire. A katakan. The reason he was an enigma was not because he was a higher vampire or the fact that he had a thirst for torture and making a spectacle of his victims. No, it was because he was a supporter of the Eternal Fire cult.

The same cult which opposed anything magical. It was strange because Hubert himself was a magical creature and the human form wasn't even his real form. This was a mystery to everyone who knew anything about him.

And the two merchants wanted to exact revenge through him. At first, the merchants were wary. Vampires did not take contracts. They did not kill for coin.

But they knew men like Hubert could be guided.

They found him in the basement of a butcher's shop, deep in the slums of Novigrad. It was an unassuming place, but the air reeked of something primal. Hubert sat at a plain wooden table, sharpening a dagger that was far too ceremonial for a mere butcher's tool.

The merchants did not approach alone. They had brought two of their best remaining enforcers, but even then, they felt a chill as Hubert's gaze lifted toward them.

"I don't take contracts," he said before they even spoke. He knew that these two merchants knew about his identity and it could be leaked, but he also knew that these men were scared of death more than their greed.

"We aren't here for contracts," Leovold replied smoothly. "We are here for justice."

"Justice?"

"Yes," Massengill interjected. "There is a man—an outsider. A foreigner who has no place in our world. He is immoral, reckless. A man who destroys livelihoods without care. A man who burns businesses to the ground simply because they stand in his way."

Hubert said nothing, but the merchants could tell they had his attention.

"He acts without consequence," Leovold continued. "People like that... deserve to be judged, don't they?"

"This man," Massengill pressed on, "this Clint Barton—he torched our factories. Not because we wronged him, but because we stood in his way. Hundreds of men are now out of work because of his greed."

"And now?" Hubert asked. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

"Now," Leovold said, "he prospers. While honest men suffer." Hubert exhaled slowly, the candlelight flickering as if the air. He waved his hands showing that these two men should leave, but this was an indication enough that he would contemplate later.

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The journey to Kovir had been long and arduous, but Liam and Triss had finally arrived in the kingdom known for its wealth, frigid climate, and, most importantly, its tolerance toward mages. Yet, finding the druids here was proving to be an entirely different challenge.

For days, they had combed through the libraries of Pont Vanis, speaking with scholars and old herbalists who might have known anything about the Circle of Druids. They searched the outskirts of towns, following rumors about reclusive mystics, only to find ordinary hedge witches and alchemists peddling common remedies. Even among the magical circles, information about the druids was scarce. Unlike sorcerers who sought influence, druids lived in secrecy, avoiding civilization as much as possible.

"This is getting us nowhere," Liam muttered as he and Triss sat in the corner of a dimly lit tavern. A fire crackled in the hearth, providing little warmth against the chill that seeped through the wooden walls. "We've asked herbalists, scholars, and even a few smugglers. Nobody seems to know where these druids are."

"That's because they don't want to be found. Druids aren't like us, Liam. They don't seek power or students. They follow the flow of nature and shun human conflicts." Triss said while drinking a bit of the local wine. She was actually enjoying herself here. Here, she was free and none of the folks here would look at her the wrong way.

There weren't any wanted posters of hers and thus even if people here came to know her, they wouldn't treat her any different. Kovir would have been the best place for her to pass her time, if she hadn't gone to the city of New York.

"Then why did we even come here? If they don't want to be found, how are we supposed to convince them to teach me?" Liam meanwhile wasn't liking the wild goose chase at all.

"Because there's always a way. We just have to look deeper." Triss smiled.

It wasn't until their fifth day in Kovir that they finally found their first real lead. An old fisherman by the docks, after some convincing (and a hefty exchange of crowns), told them of a strange group of men who had passed through the region months ago.

"They don't come to the cities, no. But the woods—aye, they visit the deep forests," the old man said. "You wanna find 'em, you best head north, past the Frosted Highlands. They say there's a grove there, old as time itself."

Liam and Triss wasted no time preparing for the next leg of their journey. The Frosted Highlands were treacherous, covered in thick snow and inhabited by beasts that had never seen human civilization. Traveling there would not be easy.

"You sure they'll even listen to us?" As they rode out of Pont Vanis, Liam couldn't help but glance at Triss.

"That's what we're going to find out." Triss said. But she was very sure that Liam would be accepted among them as druids were known to nurture talents. The druids might be reclusive but once in a while they would come in contact with civilization. Not because of necessity, but because they loved to kidnap young children who had huge talents of magic and thus make them the next druids.

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