harleyscars Chapter 77 Sigir Luwen's Bathhouse
Chapter 77 Sigir Luwen's Bathhouse
Chapter 78 Sigir Luwen's Bathhouse
"Sigi Luwen," Ron repeated the name. "He can't just be a mob boss who owns a bathhouse, can he?"
At that moment, the door was gently pushed open, and Erwin walked in, flipping open the notepad.
"Sigi Luwen, on the surface, is a bathhouse owner, but in reality, he is Novigrad's biggest intelligence broker. His intelligence network has infiltrated nobles, merchants, and even the streets, constantly monitoring the city's dynamics."
He also used his influence to hold the wealth of powerful and influential people on their behalf, establishing an underground financial system that could launder illicit gains and transform them into legitimate business investments.
Priscilla turned her head. "Who's this? Is he also your friend, Geralt?" Geralt glanced at Ron. "Hmm, more or less."
Erwin nodded slightly to Priscilla. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Priscilla. I've heard of you from Olivier. The ownership of this tavern will soon change, but our cooperation will not be affected. You are an excellent poet, of great significance to the Kingfisher."
Priscilla paused for a moment. "Thank you for the compliment. So, from now on, you'll be my new boss?"
Erwin shook his head, turning his gaze to Ron. Priscilla followed his gaze, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Wow, forgive my poor eyesight."
Ron didn't respond to that. He straightened up from the wall. "Come on, Geralt, let's go upstairs and talk. Maybe I can help."
Jero nodded.
Zoltan rose from his chair. "Then Geralt, I won't stay any longer. I need to get back to Rosemary and Thyme, lest Dandelion return to find his tavern filled with beggars and vagrants." He nodded to Ron and turned to walk towards the door.
The second floor of the Kingfisher's House was much quieter than the first floor. Erwin closed the door, and the three of them sat down around the long table.
Geralt leaned back in his chair and recounted what had happened.
"So, your friend Dandelion robbed his treasury," Erwin tapped his fingers lightly on the table. "Then he should be more eager than anyone to find the man, or rather, his treasure. The whereabouts of Hawthorne II could also be traced back to him."
Jero nodded. "We don't know what his attitude is yet. Let's see what happens when we meet him."
Ron was silent for a moment. "I was just planning to expand my intelligence network in Novigrad. If this man is as capable as Erwin says, then I'll go with you to meet this Mr. Luwen."
Ron turned to Erwin. "How's the deal with the kingfisher?"
"It went very smoothly. Olivier had no objection to the transfer terms. I'll arrange the management team and the promotion plan for the blackberry mead in the next few days. If you find Viscount Julian, you can invite him to participate in the Kingfisher's promotion. I've been curious about this senior for a long time."
"Oh, right, Ron," Erwin glanced at Geralt first, and seeing that Ron didn't say anything, he continued.
"Olivier told me that there's a secret passage in the basement of this tavern that leads directly to the port."
Ron raised an eyebrow. "That deal is surprisingly good value for money. Erwin, arrange for several standing army squads to clear the passage and confirm the route. Remember to have them bring silver solution and alchemical bombs. Kayla should still have some in stock."
"Understood. In the future, we can use this passage to mobilize troops without attracting the attention of the city guards."
Erwin wrote this down, closed the notepad, and turned to go downstairs.
Ron and Geralt left the Kingfisher Inn and walked along the street toward the baths. The streets of Novigrad were at their busiest at this time of day. In the distance, the bell tower on the temple island tolled three times, the sound echoing and fading away on the river.
After walking for a while, Ron spoke first, "Geralt, the things you brought were a great help. We owe you a huge favor now."
"Then remember to buy me a drink."
"Alright, from now on, the Kingfisher Tavern will always be open to you for free, as long as you don't tear down my tavern." Geralt didn't answer, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
The bathhouse is located in the northern part of the Gildorf district. It is a gray-white stone building with smooth stone steps at the entrance, indicating that it is frequented by many people.
But today the doors were tightly shut. Ron and Geralt exchanged a glance, and Geralt stepped forward, raised his hand, and pounded on the door. After a few moments of banging, a muffled voice came from inside: "The bathhouse is closed today. The owner is meeting with important guests."
"Then tell him that there are two more distinguished guests. I am Geralt of Rivia, and I will not leave until I see him."
"Hehe, okay, I'll give it a try, please wait a moment."
The door was pushed open from the inside, and a damp wind rushed in. The person who opened the door was a chubby man with a professional smile on his round face.
Behind him was a spacious changing area with long oak benches arranged on both sides, covered with dry white bath towels.
"Siji Luwen cordially invites you both inside. I am Habin."
He took a step back, his gaze lingering on Ron for a moment longer. "This meeting will take place in the bathhouse. Please change your clothes. We will keep your weapons safe."
Ron turned to Geralt. "Geralt, I won't go in. Just in case, call me if anything happens."
"Hmm, no problem." Harbin handed Geralt a bathrobe, which he took, put on quickly, and walked into the depths of the bathhouse.
Ron leaned against the wall outside the locker area, his arms crossed over his chest.
The largest bathroom is located at the far end of the bathhouse. Three naked men are soaking in the pool, with Clifford leaning against the pool wall and his thick arms draped over the edge.
The Beggar King leaned against the opposite side, with Sigir Luwen sitting beside him, his face glistening with oil and sweat dripping from his smooth head.
Geralt was led in by Harbin, and all three looked at him at the same time. Clifford frowned.
Sigir Luwen stood up, narrowing his eyes. "Witcher, what brings you to my bathhouse?"
The beggar king turned to look at him. "Lu Wen, you have guests, aren't you going to introduce them to us?"
"A witcher, Geralt of Rivia, the one who saved King Foltest's life and then killed him."
Geralt looked at the man before him and said calmly, "That's just a rumor. And it's been a long time. What should I call you? Dixter or Sigir Reuven?"
"Whatever, a name is just a piece of paper that can be changed at any time."
He took two steps forward, stopping in front of Geralt and looking down at him. "The last time we met, you beat me up and broke my ankle. I wonder what you're up to this time."
Before Geralt could answer, a crashing sound came from the direction of the corridor. Someone was banging on the door with a weapon, followed by a short scream.
"Looks like someone's trying to kill you," Geralt said. "They made their move at the door, and there was more than one."
As the four men grabbed their weapons and quickly passed through the changing area, a loud bang was heard.
It felt like something heavy had been slammed against the stone wall, followed by a brief silence. After turning the last corner, the view of the corridor came into view.
Ron was holding a bald, muscular man by the neck with one hand, lifting him into the air. The man was kicking his feet half a foot off the ground, trying desperately to break free from Ron's grip, but his hand was as immovable as if it were made of iron.
The fingers tightened slightly, and the sound of the neck bones cracking was particularly clear in the narrow corridor. Then the struggle stopped abruptly, and the person's arms hung down as if broken, motionless.
There were still seven or eight assassins lying on the floor, some with dented sternums and blown-off rivets from their leather armor, others with broken necks and heads tilted at strange angles.
Various weapons were scattered on the ground: short axes, scimitars, broken daggers, and shields dented from punches.
Ron turned to Geralt, his tone flat. "Finished talking? Pretty quick."
Geralt didn't speak, his gaze sweeping over the corpse on the ground, and his lips twitched.
Dixter turned and glanced at Geralt. "Your friend?"
"Um"
"I've never seen him, but I know his name," Dixcher kicked the bald man lying in a pool of blood, turning his face over with his toe for a look.
"However, judging from what he did just now, I shouldn't have scolded my subordinates; that intelligence report was already quite restrained."