Game in Marvel-Chapter 96

He waited until she brought out steaming bowls of stew and bread before speaking up.

"We're going to need horses. Four of them. And we're willing to pay well if you can get them quickly."

The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the request.

"Horses, ye say? Aye. Might know someone who can help, but it'll cost ye."

"We'll make it worth your while," Liam replied.

"Alright. I'll see what I can do. Might take till mornin', though," the innkeeper said.

"I want it by evening," Liam stressed this time. The innkeeper was silent for a second and then nodded her head.

Despite the food and warmth of the fire, the tension in the room never fully eased. The villagers and patrons continued to cast wary glances at the witchers. Geralt, as usual, seemed completely unfazed, while Vesemir's expression remained as unreadable as stone.

"One customer says Yennefer was here. She went to the Nilfgaardian garrison outside the village. That's where I'll head next."

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"While you do so, I noticed a blacksmith nearby. I want to go and repair my armor a bit," Vesemir said.

"We will not receive our horses early, and I need to change my money into local currency," Liam said.

"How do you want to do that?" Vesemir asked.

"Convert my gold into orens," Liam replied.

"You didn't have orens all this time?" Vesemir asked as he got the hint from Liam. The whole group shook their heads in unison.

"And then have the guts to refuse my orens. You folks are funny," Geralt said with the most deadpan face possible. The group started to realize what it really meant for someone not having emotions. It was very hard to gauge if Geralt was finding their situation funny or annoying.

"Let's get to that blacksmith," Liam said. "I'm curious to see how good his work is."

"And maybe he can do something about these dents in my armor. Lead the way," Vesemir said. Liam didn't bother to finish the food as it wasn't that great, to be honest, and was very unpalatable. Only Natasha and Steve looked fine eating that food.

Tony actually pushed away the bowl, and Barton, after one try, refused to eat anymore. Geralt and Vesemir had noticed and were by now sure that these people were rich. But it also didn't make sense. If they were rich, how could they fight against a monster without any fear in their eyes? And also have a strong body.

The two stepped out of the inn, still under the wary eyes of the villagers. The blacksmith's forge was modest but well-kept, with a few swords and horseshoes on display. The shop looked half-burnt down, but his workshop looked intact. A stout dwarf with a bushy beard and sharp eyes could be seen wiping his hands on a dirty apron.

"Who's there? State yer business!" the dwarf barked.

"We're here for some repairs, and to exchange some gold," Vesemir spoke the last words in a very hushed tone. He didn't want any trouble. The dwarf's eyes immediately narrowed on Vesemir's silver sword, then shifted to Liam, his gaze lingering.

"Huh. That ain't just any armor you're wearin' under there, is it, lad?" the dwarf asked, nodding toward the faint glint of metal visible beneath Liam's attire. "What're ye hidin'?"

"You've got a sharp eye." Liam raised an eyebrow.

He unclasped his cloak and pulled back the edge of his shirt to reveal more of the intricate plating beneath. The craftsmanship was unlike anything the dwarf had seen before—sleek, angular, and adorned with strange, glowing runes.

"By Mahakam's anvil... I've never seen anything like it. What're those markings? They ain't dwarven, that's for sure. Nor elven. Lad, where did you learn to craft somethin' like this?"

Liam took out his sword next, presenting it to the dwarf. The blade shimmered unnaturally, the same runes etched along its length. The dwarf took a cautious step closer, almost reverently, before reaching out to inspect it.

"Careful," Vesemir warned. "That's not your run-of-the-mill steel." He could hear the faint vibration of his medallion. It showed how powerful that sword was.

"Aye, I figured as much. This... This ain't just smithin'. It's bloody magic! But not magic I've ever seen." The dwarf looked up at Liam. "What're ye playin' at, lad? This kind o' work doesn't just come from nowhere."

"It's... a long story," Liam replied vaguely. "And not one I intend to share."

"Even I don't recognize these runes, and I've seen my fair share of magical weapons. You're saying they're completely foreign to you too?" Vesemir asked.

"Aye," Willis confirmed.

"Foreign and powerful. Whoever made this—and I'll take ye at yer word it's yer work, lad—they had knowledge far beyond what anyone around here could hope to match."

"I appreciate the praise. But I didn't come here just to show off. I need some orens. I hope you've got some," Liam said as he brought hacksilver coins and placed them on the table. Both Vesemir and the dwarf looked at the coins that Liam had just placed.

"I have never seen that kind of coin in my life," Vesemir said.

"What are these?" the dwarf asked.

"This is hacksilver. It contains about 80% silver, so you can make the judgment. I hope Master Vesemir would see that I am compensated. Of course, you can keep 10% of the commission," Liam said. The eyes of the dwarf shone as he started to calculate, and so did Vesemir.

Gold and silver were very rare in these lands. And silver, for Vesemir, was very important as this fueled their swords, and swords were the lifelines of witchers.

"I don't have the required orens to give you back, but can ya give me three hours to gatha' them?" the dwarf said.

"Until then, we will be here, so that you don't cheat us," Vesemir said. The dwarves were known to be straightforward and not cunning like humans, so they could be trusted, and even if this blacksmith tried something funny, Liam wouldn't mind showing his prowess.

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