Chapter 120: A Fortunate Opening and a Warm Welcome

"Rotten Forest" was the underground nickname; the official name of the district was "Radiant Alley." In Novigrad’s hierarchy of prosperity, it was only slightly better than the "Far Corner District," which was packed with impoverished residents.

Ten days had passed since leaving the Hawthorne mansion and moving into this four-story building in Rotten Forest. Thanks to the funding from Kron, the alchemy workshop and the smithy had been successfully set up. However, this peace was shattered on opening day by a group of thugs who barged into the shop.

On either side of the negotiation table stood opposing groups: on one side, the Phantom Brigade led by Viktor, comprising the old, weak, women, and children alike; on the other, a robust gang of five thugs led by Tony.

Rubbing his eyes and sniffing, Tony feigned sentimentality. “Sorry, I think I miss my mother,” he drawled slowly, then asked, “Did the boss receive the letter I sent?”

Viktor picked up his bowl, blew on his milk to cool it, and took a sip. “I did.”

“Every opening has its rules, no matter where you are. The letter I sent, you should know how much weight it carries.”

“Slap!” The youth slammed ten Kron coins onto the table and pushed them towards the other side. “Pure gold, two ounces. Friend, the money’s here, but if you want it, you gotta play by the rules.”

“What rules? Cut the crap. How about this: I hit you three punches, you hit me three punches. You up for it?”

Behind Tony, his snarling henchmen suddenly fell silent, though he was too distracted by the Kron coins to notice.

“Too ordinary.” Viktor curled his lip, setting down his bowl and stroking his milk-streaked beard thoughtfully.

Tony lifted his chin. “Too ordinary? Then say something special.”

Viktor pointed to the side. “See that anvil? Right now I want you to do a handstand on it. Five minutes, and the money’s yours.”

Tony grinned ferociously. “You’re joking, right?”

“Snikt!” A sharp military knife was pressed against Tony’s neck, slicing the skin and drawing a thin line of blood. “He’s not joking. Neither am I.”

Tony froze. His henchmen cowered in the corner, trembling. The man holding the blade was Bab Tabard from Serrikania, a tattoo fanatic whose fearsome reputation in Radiant Alley was built on countless spilled entrails.

And more often than not, his presence signified the will of the "Beggar King."

Shaking his head, Viktor grabbed the ten Kron and cheerfully stuffed them into Tony’s hand. “This time only, friend. Walk straight out. Next time, we’ll carry you out sideways.”

The cold blade withdrew.

Tony obediently moved to the anvil and flipped into a handstand.

...

The Phantom Brigade’s new base faced Radiant Alley directly. To the north, across the bridge, was the fish market; to the west, the harbor; and to the east, a bit farther, the fruit and vegetable market. Nearby was the “Limping Kate,” a disreputable bathhouse offering bathing services.

The four-story building was rectangular. Inside, it was divided into three sections. Upon entering was "Fergus’s Smithy." The sign bore the dwarf’s name to avoid unnecessary suspicion—Yuna had no objections as long as she held authority over the forging area.

The second section was arranged as Viktor’s alchemy workshop, modeled after the setup in the Vigima basement, complete with bookshelves, alchemical instruments, and an indispensable large cauldron. The third section housed the kitchen, dining room, and staircases leading upstairs and downstairs.

The second floor had two rooms occupied by Viktor and Fergus, while the third floor was home to Anguran and Yuna. The fourth floor was decorated as guest rooms. The youth planned to run this place as a secret base shared among friends.

Behind the house ran the inner city canal, connected to the Pontar River, offering excellent visibility. The basement, ostensibly a wine cellar, was actually equipped with numerous traps.

...

Ignoring Tony’s handstand, Viktor smiled at Bab. “Thanks for giving me some face and not turning the place into a slaughterhouse.”

“You’re welcome, Viktor. You paid well. Congratulations on your opening!”

The Serrikanian had not come alone. Among his henchmen, one stepped forward and placed a small iron plate on the table, pushing it toward the youth.

“Pin this on your sign. Lowlifes like these won’t bother you again,” Bab said with pride and confidence.

No sooner had he spoken than mocking voices came from outside. “First thing I see is a fight breaking out. I thought the Beggar King’s sign was no longer respected!”

The speaker was Boslair, accompanied by a few henchmen. He entered the shop. “Mr. Viktor, congratulations on your opening. I’m here to offer my congratulations and to deliver an invitation to next week’s salon.” Passing Bab, he placed the invitation on the table and pushed it toward the youth.

After the Beggar King’s envoy, the Hawthorne representative had now appeared. The scene made Tony and his gang, standing nearby as mere background, wish for a hole to swallow them up. Yet they dared not leave recklessly—the entrances were firmly blocked by the henchmen of these two powerful figures.

Viktor took the iron plate and handed it to Yuna, then pocketed the invitation. “Thank you both for your congratulations. You truly honor this establishment.”

“Aha! So does my arrival add even more glory to this shop?” came a teasing voice. It belonged to the eunuch Habin, who parted the crowd at the door to reveal his round, pale, and comical face.

He waddled into the smithy and approached the negotiation table. “Greetings to you, Witcher apprentice Viktor. Mr. Luven heard about the smithy’s opening today and sent me to congratulate you!”

Waving his hand, his men brought over a small iron box and placed it on the table.

Opening the box revealed what appeared to be some blue-black ore. Viktor was puzzled, but Yuna couldn’t help but gasp: “Dimeritium!”

Viktor’s pupils contracted sharply. Dimeritium, also called anti-magic metal, was the bane of mages and a crucial mineral maintaining the balance of power in the witcher world.

Part of the reason he came to Novigrad was that Dimeritium was easier to obtain here. Crafting weapons and equipment from this metal was the only way to stand against powerful sorcerers.

So far, he hadn’t purchased any because of its high cost and the scarcity of reliable sources. After the Sorcerers’ Uprising at Soden Mountain, Dimeritium became a strategic reserve prized by many nations.

His thoughts racing, Viktor maintained a polite smile, closed the box, and carefully handed it to Yuna, whose eyes gleamed with envy.

“Welcome! With the support of these three, I’m sure there won’t be any more sightless passersby trying to collect protection money.” Saying this, Viktor gestured at the cowering thugs to leave.

Tony’s gang was only too eager to escape and seized the moment to flee through the gap opened by the Black Star Gang at the door.

"This sword’s not bad!" Bab said, walking over to the wall and picking up a short sword for inspection.

Boslair, also skilled with blades, hefted another sword, swinging it a few times. “Definitely good!”

Viktor smiled and spread his hands. “Allow me to introduce you to the smith, Mr. Fergus.”

Under the scrutiny of these two bloodthirsty blade masters, Fergus worked hard to maintain a stoic expression. Following Viktor’s advice, those with skill simply held their heads high; no words were needed.

Sure enough, after a moment of attention, Bab and Boslair both nodded respectfully to the dwarf. Men like them respected skilled smiths. Though Yuna specialized in armor crafting, her sword forging was commendable as well.

Habin stood silently nearby, clearly uninterested in weapons.

With a high-pitched voice, he asked, “Isn’t there supposed to be alchemical potions besides the smithy? Why don’t I see a shopfront?”

Viktor smiled and pointed to the second entrance in the smithy’s corner.

Walking over to the wooden sign hanging by the door, he said, “When this side is blank, it means it’s closed. When I’m working, the other side with the sign will be up.”

He flipped the wooden sign over, revealing neat, elegant letters:

“Viktor’s Alchemy Workshop.”