The thing that felt off to Geralt was... how a pair of farmers and their daughter, who were just driving a donkey cart and delivering goods on the road, could know Lann’s name.

Geralt was a veteran demon hunter who had roamed the continent for decades, and he was a bit different from the usual demon hunters.

——He had a friend, a friend renowned as a poet and singer far and wide.

Dandelion often adventured with him, deeply involved in the demon hunter’s quests and daily life.

Even when their relationship could be called ’best friends,’ he witnessed Geralt’s twisty and bizarre love story.

Dandelion’s talent allowed him to turn these sights and stories into poetry and drama scripts.

Through the dissemination of these works, Geralt had fame and recognition far beyond that of a typical demon hunter.

Although these stories combined were not as shocking as Lann’s performance in a war, Geralt, in this world, in this era, was undoubtedly a celebrity.

A fairly famous one, at that.

So he was able to sense that something was amiss.

"You might not believe this."

Lann tilted his head toward Geralt as he spoke.

The two demon hunters continued walking down the road, not in a hurry to speed up, seeming to mind the father and daughter ahead leading a donkey.

"I once befriended a high vampire."

"Are you kidding me? The kind of high vampire I’m thinking of?"

"Don’t be so startled, Geralt. Regis has a great personality and is a member of the Blood Prohibition Faction. Even if you met him, you’d think he was a decent gentleman, uh... just with too strong a scent of parsley."

The old demon hunter’s mouth twitched slightly, clearly never having thought that a high vampire—a monster Vesemir taught him to run from without hesitation—left the deepest impression on Lann as... smelling of parsley?

"No, back to the point. I saw through his disguise at the time because he could recite my stories effortlessly. At that time, I hadn’t done anything significant. Nothing as famous as you."

"So you’re saying..." Geralt, full of disbelief, tilted his chin toward the father and daughter leading the donkey on the road ahead. "You think they’re also high vampires?"

"No, of course not. But the fact they recognized me at a glance is also not normal."

Lann’s hood swayed back and forth.

What he did affected the entire southern and northern situation and the lives and deaths of hundreds of thousands of people. This is indeed an incomparable influence.

Such feats, even in his homeland, would certainly dominate global trending topics for years, even getting into textbooks.

But... this is the Magical Middle Ages.

Different from the information age of the homeland world.

In the information age, information spread virally can instantaneously make someone a celebrity, recognizable on the streets.

But even such a person needs a following in the billions to enjoy this treatment.

Someone with just a few million followers could walk on the street without drawing a second glance, let alone being recognized.

And in this Magical Middle Ages, though the things Lann did were earth-shattering, with every informed minstrel relying on these stories for a living.

Due to the limitations of the spread speed and method, Lann didn’t think he could be casually recognized by a random farming household on the road in the wild.

It would be more likely they’d be scared by his physique.

After all, ordinary farmers might encounter minstrels only a few times in their entire lives.

"Of course, it’s not to say they have a problem. It’s just..."

Lann did not finish the sentence, but Geralt understood his implication.

’The listeners have no problem, so the ’storyteller’ does.’

"Your stories spread too quickly and too widely."

Geralt said in a slightly husky voice, full of concern.

Previously, it didn’t feel very real, as he was focused on traveling to his target, earning money through work at Airetusa.

But now, the trivial matters on the road made them realize Lann’s current fame.

"But isn’t having fame a good thing, meow?"

The small cat Rong Buqiu, sitting in front of Lann, lifted its head, its large, watery eyes filled with puzzled confusion.

Lann smiled and patted the little cat’s head.

"Of course, being famous is good, but being famous to this extent... heh."

Fame is a great thing worth pursuing in one’s lifetime, offering unparalleled psychological comfort and motivation, a sense of achievement and satisfaction from self-realization.

Nearly everyone not preoccupied with basic necessities will, at some point, pursue such a thing.

This thing is undoubtedly excellent.

But when someone becomes used to the fame surrounding them, treating this dreamlike environment as normal, then what... if this fame were to disappear?

The pain of withdrawal wouldn’t be any worse.

Or rather, this boosted fame is like ’narcotic powder.’

Whoever masters the ’narcotic powder’ might control those addicted to it.

Fame can be a good thing, but it can also be a fine ’dog leash.’

Bounding those who can’t live without it.

Someone wants to influence me in this way.

Lann looked at the muddy road beneath his feet and surprisingly felt a subtle intrigue.

And once you can exert influence, it means you can control.

-----------------

Watching the farmer father-daughter duo finally reach their destination on the road, the two Demon Hunters sped up their progress and arrived outside the walls of Novigrad by that afternoon.

"Take a good look at the open fields and sky while you can; once inside the city, you’ll feel like even the sky is squeezed by the buildings,"

Geralt said to Lann.

The suburbs of Novigrad were dotted with grain-producing farms, and villages formed by people who couldn’t afford to settle in the city gathered just outside.

This was an alluvial plain nurtured by the waters of the Ponta River.

This was one of the rare expanses of flat land Lann had seen in the Magical Middle Ages.

Windmills on the plain creaked round and round; fertile land could grow vibrant flowers, green grass, and trees even if left untended.

The ever-changing blue sky and white clouds by the sea appeared even more carefree against the vast wilderness.

In the city of Novigrad, large areas of red-tiled rooftops and stone walls stretched. Though the dense buildings were chaotic, they were filled with the unique vitality and life force of a city.

Novigrad, the northern pearl, the free city.

People generally believed this was a city with the potential to become the capital of the world.

Lann had briefly learned about this city before coming and knew it had a permanent population of over thirty thousand, with the floating population being at least twice that number.

In this world resembling medieval Europe, it was undoubtedly a large city.

Of course, speaking of architectural grandeur and peculiarity, Yan’an and Losric were still the pinnacles Lann had seen.

So Geralt was disappointed; the first-time visitor Lann was not overwhelmed by the densely packed buildings of Novigrad.

For the young man, this bustling atmosphere of many people living in one city was what felt familiar and curious to him.

After all, with the current population density of Novigrad, it barely felt lively enough to him.

The two crossed a stone bridge over a shallow tributary of the Ponta River and entered the city through Novigrad’s grand gate.

This city, built on the river delta, cleverly used the river tributary as a moat.

Lann’s imposing stature and the Qilin draped in a Magic Horse Harness caused a stir at the city’s grand gate.

Although Novigrad was on Redanian territory, the King of Redania had no authority to station soldiers here.

The local violent institution responsible for maintaining order was the Temple Guard under the Eternal Flame Faction.

Although their clothes were red and white, the red symbolized more of the ’Eternal Fire.’

The Temple Guards responsible for city entrance inspections were obviously bewildered, but people in such a big city were more likely to have heard stories about the Southern-Northern War, Sodden Mountain Battle.

A figure who seemed to be the leader of the Temple Guards clearly recognized Lann. He did nothing unnecessary but let the two Demon Hunters pay the entrance fee as per the rules.

In fact, ’paying the fee as per the rules’ was already quite unusual.

It was only after passing through the city walls that Novigrad truly presented itself before their eyes.

People of various attires and endless crowds all had their own goals; crowds flowed, everyone hustling for livelihood and profit.

Merchants with pince-nez glasses, ’female servers’ in short shorts, knee-length boots, with collars open to mid-chest, and unkempt, sweating craftsmen and workers on the roadside...

"Wow..."

The tortoiseshell cat sitting in front of Lann curiously looked around.

The Elu Cat, having grown up on the New Continent, had never seen so many people living together. The population density on the New Continent was truly a tragedy.

The Qilin under the Magic Horse Harness also seemed much more lively, the sound of hooves on the stone-brick ground was crisper.

"Welcome to Novigrad."

As a regular visitor, Geralt extended a courteous welcome to Rong Buqiu and the Qilin.

The tortoiseshell cat continued to look around while nodding, and the Qilin snorted a ’huff.’

Covered in a cloak, Lann was intimidating enough that he and the massive Qilin didn’t feel cramped on the road.

Because people near them turned away to squeeze against others.

"Let’s find Dudu first, and explain your situation to him."

Being a regular visitor to Novigrad, Geralt began arranging the itinerary for the first-time visitor and his cat and ancient dragon.

Thanks to his sturdy and robust appearance, what he said was very convincing.

"I remember he usually has a drink at the Kingfisher Tavern in the afternoon, we can..."

Geralt was in the middle of arranging when, after another turn in the labyrinthine alleys of Novigrad, an uproar drowned out his voice.

The sound of "crackling" explosions came from afar.

Both Demon Hunters on horseback simultaneously sniffed the air.

They caught the scent of cherry jam.

"Bastards! Incompetent! Poet? More like nonsense!"