Witcher: Master Kiliman’s Grand Ambitions-Chapter 29: When Something Bad Happens, Look to the Eternal Fire - That's Always Right

Vizima, the capital city of the Temerian Kingdom.
This port city belonged to the Temerian royal family, ruled personally by King Foltest. It was the largest, newest, and most prosperous trading hub in the entire kingdom.
Tens of thousands of residents lived within the city, and together with Vizima's suburbs, several surrounding small towns, the royal army, and various villages, factories, and production settlements established to serve these residents, it formed the most densely populated area in the entire kingdom.
Of course, these statistics sounded impressive, but for Kiriman, who had once lived in a massive modern city composed of tens of millions of people...
The so-called royal capital was nothing more than a slightly larger township, not particularly astonishing.
When he rode the tall elf steed in frantic haste to reach the rural inn mentioned by Lady Riana, the sun hanging in the sky had already begun to slowly set, with dusk approaching.
This was a massive inn, large enough to cover half a football field.
Besides the extensive vegetable garden behind the inn for growing their own produce, it had everything one could need - stables, latrines, blacksmith shop, tavern, lodging - all sorts of buildings crammed together.
They were packed closely, interconnected, with a spacious courtyard for guests to stroll, hang laundry, chat, and so on. The facilities were quite comprehensive.
Not only that, but the inn's perimeter was surrounded by a wooden wall constructed from hundreds of massive logs taller than a person, completely blocking threats from various wild beasts and small monsters, giving people a strong sense of security.
When Kiriman pushed open the inn's main door and entered the tavern hall, it was already filled with travelers from all over the kingdom.
Various different accents, shouts, curses, boasts, and singing voices filled the air without cease.
A bard wearing a wide-brimmed hat and playing a lute seemed to be singing about the legendary Witcher Geralt's story.
A group of tall, shirtless boxers covered in tattoos occupied one corner of the tavern hall, organizing an exciting fist-fighting gambling game with many surrounding spectators.
In another corner of the inn, several garishly dressed women wearing thin clothing that revealed large areas of smooth skin and quite voluptuous figures were soliciting customers with seductive tones and glances.
This lively, bustling atmosphere made Kiriman's heart itch somewhat, making him want to experience medieval tavern culture.
Unfortunately, the urgent contract left him no spare time, forcing him to abandon the idea.
Gathering his thoughts, feeling slightly regretful, he scanned the hall and quickly spotted his target with sharp eyes.
It was a slim, disheveled-looking middle-aged half-elf man with a weary expression, covering his forehead with both hands, unsure whether he was crying or just spacing out.
Kiriman didn't stand on ceremony, quickly walking over to sit opposite the man, then rapping on the table with his hand as he said in a deep voice:
"Mr. Scott, I'm the Witcher hired by your wife Lady Riana to help find your daughter Miko."
"Can you tell me what clues you've found today?"
Hearing his voice, the man named Scott slowly raised his head, his eyes red and bloodshot as if he hadn't slept all night.
He didn't question Kiriman's identity, but instead covered his face with both hands, nearly sobbing as he said:
"Oh, my Miko."
"I haven't found anything."
"I've begged the guards, questioned the village head here, sought out the mercenary leader here, and even went to ask for help from the town's priest, merchants, and beggars."
"I knelt on the ground, pleading with them, but they all said they knew nothing, wouldn't tell me anything, as if my daughter had been taken away by demons."
"Ah, boo hoo hoo!"
Watching the half-elf man crying so helplessly before him, Kiriman felt somewhat speechless.
Hey hey hey, you're the pillar of the family! It hasn't even been a full day yet - you should at least hold on a bit longer.
He mentally complained, but his face remained expressionless.
He mentally complained, but his face remained expressionless.
After thinking for a few seconds, he asked Scott for the addresses of those individuals he'd just mentioned, along with some other basic information, then turned and left.
Actually, even before coming here, Kiriman had already formed some suspicions.
In this era, human trafficking crimes were extremely rampant.
Those who would kidnap an elven girl, aside from supernatural factors, generally fell into just a few main categories: gang members, cult organizations, local bullies, or certain perverted nobles.
Whether for selling for profit or some special fetish, they were always the prime suspects.
And with less than a year remaining until the timeline of the Witcher game's beginning...
The game's largest evil gang in Vizima, the Salamander Gang, should already be established and rapidly expanding under the funding of the Order of the Flaming Rose.
This was a scumbag organization that would commit any evil deed to make money - selling narcotic powders, intimidation and extortion, human trafficking, murder and robbery - absolutely nothing was beneath them.
In his mind, this kidnapping case had an eighty percent probability of being the Salamander Gang's work. Finding them would definitely yield some clues.
Anyway, they were just a bunch of evil-doing scum, even more despicable than idiot peasants. Better to mistakenly kill than let escape - eliminating them would bring no guilt.
Unfortunately, this gang was still in its hidden phase, with no clear information about their hideout location.
Kiriman used his sharp Witcher hearing to secretly investigate around the tavern but found no drug dealers selling narcotic powder, not even a single clue about the Salamander Gang.
He sighed, deciding not to waste time here. Taking advantage of the fading daylight, he turned and rode away from the inn, heading toward the town where the priest was located.
According to the information he'd obtained, this so-called priest was actually a clergyman of the Eternal Fire sect.
He had been preaching the doctrine of the Eternal Fire for years in the small town on Vizima's outskirts, with numerous followers here, deeply rooted and highly respected - not someone ordinary people could afford to offend.
However, the unfortunate truth was...
While the Witcher world did have numerous deities, with powerful gods capable of moving mountains and filling seas, omnipotent, and even weaker gods able to perform miracles impossible in ordinary eyes...
The Eternal Fire sect, with the most followers in the North and being the most mainstream, worshipped an Eternal Fire that was a complete fraud - a fictional deity image with no supernatural abilities whatsoever.
This sect, from the most revered archbishops down to the clergymen scattered across every human town and village - every single one of them was nothing but smooth-talking swindlers full of righteous rhetoric but actually skilled only in deception and fraud, completely lacking any real capability.
This sect, from the most revered archbishops down to the clergymen scattered across every human town and village - every single one of them was nothing but smooth-talking swindlers full of righteous rhetoric but actually skilled only in deception and fraud, completely lacking any real capability.
Eighty percent of the Northern Witchers' bad reputation was caused by this damned religion.
If not for the Eternal Fire sect having enough wealth to maintain a powerful sect armed force...
These religious frauds who only knew how to extort money and deceive people throughout the North would have long been devoured alive by the nobility.
However, the Eternal Fire's intimidation only existed in secular society, only affecting those ordinary people who feared their religious armed forces.
For our mighty Witcher here, these scum who could only throw their weight around among commoners were nothing but lambs waiting for slaughter.