On the way back to the laboratory, the atmosphere had relaxed considerably.
After this sparring session, Geralt intuitively understood Karl's strength.
Back in the laboratory, Geralt looked at his right hand, which was still a bit unsteady: "I need to buy alchemical materials, prepare Moon Dust, and a few potions that can be used to fight the Striga..."
When Karl heard this, a look of doubt clearly appeared on his face: "Wait, Lambert, do you mean... these expenses need to be paid upfront?"
Geralt was stunned for a moment, then showed a hint of such a matter-of-fact expression, explaining: "That's how Witchers are."
"All equipment is lost upon acceptance, alchemical materials and bomb preparation... all expenses are borne by the client."
"Only after completing the commission and receiving payment, after deducting these costs, is the remainder net income."
He paused, a slight, barely noticeable helplessness in his voice: "And most often, after deducting costs, there's little pay left, barely enough to get by."
"Many Witchers... just because they don't have money for equipment maintenance and potion preparation, can only grit their teeth and rely on their swords to deal with monsters, and the result is..."
Geralt's words didn't finish, but the meaning was obvious.
Hearing this, Karl was silent for a moment, a flicker of emotion on his face.
He hadn't expected that the seemingly glamorous and powerful Witcher would be so harsh and helpless behind the scenes.
He subconsciously wanted to offer to cover this part of the cost himself but held back as the words were about to leave his lips.
He believed that their relationship was still superficial, and such direct financial support might make Geralt misunderstand or become wary, which would be counterproductive.
Triss on the side noticed all this and saw that Karl seemed interested in befriending this skilled Witcher, but she couldn't speak up.
She smiled slightly and naturally responded: "Lambert, there's an herbal shop in the commercial district where I often buy materials."
"If you go there and mention my name, the owner will give you a discount."
Geralt looked at Triss in surprise, then glanced at Karl.
Though he wondered why the two were so considerate of him, he accepted the kindness.
He nodded and simply said: "Thank you."
Just as Geralt was about to leave for the commercial district, Karl stopped him again: "Lambert, wait."
Geralt stopped and cast a questioning look.
Karl thought for a moment: "I'm not in a hurry to buy materials. I think the information given by the king is still second-hand."
"Moreover, from the team that was wiped out... there may be omissions or deviations."
"The Striga doesn't like to be active during the day. How about we go to the old palace to check the situation while it's still early?"
"It's better to familiarize ourselves with the environment and verify the information in advance than to have an accident at the critical moment."
When Geralt heard this, his amber cat-like eyes lit up slightly.
Caution and adequate preparation were among the key principles for a Witcher's survival.
Karl's proposal was very professional and to the point.
"That makes sense. Let's go now. Seeing is better than hearing." Geralt nodded and changed his plan without hesitation.
They agreed to suspend the plan to purchase materials and decided to immediately head to the old palace where the Striga resided to conduct a preliminary investigation.
...
Leaving the Temple District, Karl and Geralt walked through the relatively bustling streets of Vizima and gradually moved towards the outskirts.
The farther they went into the old town, the more dilapidated and abandoned the surroundings became.
Most of the buildings here had fallen into ruin over the years, with stained walls and broken windows.
The air was filled with the dull smell of garbage, mold, and despair. This was Old Vizima.
After the Temerian royal family moved to the new city, this place quickly became a gathering spot for non-human races.
Elves, dwarves, and a handful of gnomes who had lost their homes due to human expansion or assimilation but were always isolated.
They and other mixed races were forcibly driven here, cornered into a place where even the poorest of the poor wouldn't want to set foot.
On both sides of the street, many gaunt figures could be seen.
A thin elf had lost his former elegance, his eyes vacant as he leaned against a corner.
A bearded dwarf was no longer a hero, silently polishing useless gravel, trying to find a little food to fill his stomach.
They saw Geralt and Karl approaching, and a flicker of hesitation appeared in their numb eyes.
Emotions mixed as their gazes fell on Geralt.
It was a look mixed with slight curiosity and vague recognition, but also deep resentment and alienation.
Geralt was also a mutant rejected by mainstream society.
But he had power, a clear identity, and could even receive rewards and move freely with this identity.
In a sense, he lived as a marginalized person with power and "usefulness" that the oppressed might have dreamed of but could never attain.
However, when their gazes turned to Karl,
that little complex emotion instantly changed to outright anger and fear.
Karl was decently dressed, though it was just casual wear for ease of movement, the materials and tailoring were still luxurious.
He was tall and straight, with a calm gait, and his entire being exuded an aura incompatible with this ruin and belonging to the "upper class."
In their eyes, Karl was a symbol of the oppressor, a representative of the people who had taken their homes, driven them here, and indiscriminately abused them.
Low curses in Elvish or Dwarvish rustled in the shadows, like venomous snakes spitting their venom.
"Damn human pig..."
"Lackeys of the nobility..."
"Get out of our place!"
Despite the hostility, no one dared to step forward, their discontent suppressed by a deeper fear.
Because not far away, a group of Temerian guards in armor with halberds were patrolling with neat steps.
The guards' cold and vigilant gazes swept over the non-human races, as if looking at a pile of garbage in a filthy sight.
They always kept their hands on their weapons, ready to suppress any possible "rebellion."
Geralt lowered his voice and said to Karl: "Foltest's soldiers, it seems the king is very concerned about security here."
There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Karl immediately understood what Geralt meant.
These guards were not only there to maintain order and protect these non-human races.
More likely, they were there to ensure that no one could stray inside or deliberately enter the cursed palace.
And even hurt the princess inside who had turned into a monster—and so on.
Even if Adda had become a monster, she was still a princess...