Chapter 172: Gwent Can Make People Forget Their Pain

Through shadows deep, the midnight wind sighs low,

Bearing sweet orchid breath on phantom wings,

I find my Jerry trembling—pale as snow,

His whispered fear cuts through the darkness, stings.

"Beloved," pale lips quiver as he speaks,

"The restless dead dance in this cursed night,

Their spectral forms haunt every shadow's peaks,

And phantom eyes burn cold with ghostly light."

...

In a tavern on the southwestern border of the Kingdom of Guinness, a bard was softly singing.

The melody was very soothing, but the content was full of darkness and strange tales.

Silas sat at a table near the tavern entrance, holding a glass of rum. He only took a small sip and didn't drink much.

He wasn't good at drinking; he had ordered this cheapest glass of rum just so he wouldn't seem so out of place.

Two days ago, Silas left Bayne City. Escorted by Church personnel to the border, he smoothly joined a merchant caravan at the outbound supply post and entered the territory of Guinness.

Although internal strife was constant within Guinness now, the border patrols seemed very strict.

Silas couldn't tell if the ones checking them were Vanas's people or the anti-imperial faction's.

Anyway, during the inspection, Silas used some minor mystical means and easily deceived the guards, entering the territory.

Afterward, he followed the merchant caravan for about half a day and arrived at this border town.

To Silas's surprise, this small town was very peaceful. People lived their lives as usual, orderly, not at all like a country in civil war.

Renting a very clean room for 6 Langs a night, Silas, after staying overnight, came to the only tavern in the small town, preparing to inquire about news from the capital.

No matter how detailed Vanas's account was, she was ultimately a commander in the depths of the palace. These common people at the bottom knew the real situation much better than she did.

The tavern was not small, about one hundred and fifty square meters, with a total of more than twenty tables.

Due to its location on the border, the tavern's business was very good. Silas saw merchants, mercenaries, soldiers off duty, and local residents here.

"You must be a merchant from the Bellandt Empire, right!?" At this moment, a rough voice sounded.

Silas looked up and saw a sturdy, middle-aged man with a large yellow beard, wearing plain grey clothes, staring at him drunkenly.

Silas raised an eyebrow and asked with a hint of curiosity, "How did you know?"

"Because only you Bellandt merchants drink rum like a cocktail! Like a sissy! Hahaha!"

The strong man said, grabbed his large tankard, and gulped down more than half a cup of rum. He patted his exposed, yellow-furred belly and said, "Rum, this is how you drink it!"

Hahahaha!

Instantly, some local people, mercenaries, and soldiers burst into cheerful laughter.

Silas also laughed along. He didn't think this was a belittlement or disdain. He slightly raised his glass, downed it in one gulp, and grinned. "Learned something!"

Doing as the locals do is always the best way to obtain information.

"Hahaha! Young man! Jem likes you!" The strong man laughed heartily, turned, and went back to his seat to continue drinking.

Silas ordered another glass of wine and stood up. He had also loosened up quite a bit by now and casually walked over to the next table where three soldiers off duty were sitting. "Come! A toast to you for protecting our safety!"

With that, he downed it in a large gulp.

The three soldiers were not old, looking like they had only been enlisted for a year or two.

"Hahaha! Not bad! This Bellandt merchant is pretty good!" Other local people chimed in loudly.

Seeing Silas so bold and straightforward, the three soldiers also raised their cups and drank heartily.

Silas sat down in stride and grinned. "How about a game of Gwent?"

The three soldiers shook their heads. The slightly older, dark-haired soldier said, "We don't have time to play this."

A glint flashed in Silas's eyes upon hearing this. He casually took out his Gwent deck from his pocket and said, "That's a real pity. You don't even have time to play cards; you must be very busy usually, right?"

The three soldiers seemed to have received some instructions, and a hint of vigilance flashed across their faces.

The dark-haired young man continued, "If you want to play cards, go over there. We're not interested."

Silas smiled slightly. "Then I'm truly sorry, soldier brothers."

With that, he got up and walked towards the inner side of the tavern.

"Although it looks very peaceful, these soldiers seem to have been gagged and are wary of something. They have a strong smell of wild grass on them; they probably just returned from the mountains not long ago."

While Silas was deep in thought, he suddenly heard a loud wail.

Following the sound, Silas saw a man sprawled on a table, drinking and crying loudly, seemingly very sad about something.

Looking closely, the man wore a relatively decent shirt. Although he wasn't wearing an outer coat, his trousers and leather shoes showed he wasn't an ordinary farmer.

And Silas keenly noticed a square-shaped bulge in his left trouser pocket.

Instantly, he had found his target.

So, Silas casually found a place to sit down and asked, "What's wrong with that man?"

A blond mercenary, currently eating meat, said with schadenfreude, "His son disappeared, and his wife ran off with someone else. He's been here for two days. Truly a tragedy."

Silas's heart stirred. He walked over with his wine glass and sat down.

"Get lost! I'm in a bad mood today!" This young man, who looked to be in his thirties, roared rudely as soon as Silas sat down.

Silas put down both his cards and his glass. "If you keep crying like this, your wife won't come back, and your son won't come back either."

The young man suddenly sat up, glared with bloodshot eyes, grabbed Silas's collar, and exhaled a strong smell of alcohol. "Outlander! Are you looking for a fight?"

Silas raised his hand. "Not interested in fighting. How about a game of Gwent instead?"

The young man looked down at the exquisite Gwent deck in Silas's hand, his attention gradually drawn. "You play Gwent?"

"Of course, I'm an old hand!" Silas said with a confident expression.

The young man slowly sat down, took out a relatively old deck of cards from his trouser pocket, and asked, "What's the wager?"

"1 Lank?" Silas took out a gleaming golden banknote.

The young man began to shuffle the cards skillfully. "No backing out allowed."

Silas said with a smile, "Don't worry, merchants value integrity the most."

With that, he also began to shuffle his cards.

The young man's eyes were fixed on the banknote. The sadness on his face gradually dissipated, replaced by seriousness and excitement. "I'm going to win all your money today!"

Silas looked at the young man's appearance and sighed in his heart, "Indeed, the magical Gwent can make people forget their pain."

And so, in the following half an hour, over a total of three games, the young man was full of spirit, eloquent, and while playing his cards, he also used misdirection, psychological tactics, and other techniques to interfere with Silas's play. He had completely forgotten about his missing son and his wife who had run off with someone else.