At most, they looked at him twice with mild curiosity, and some villagers even affectionately called him "Master Witcher."
Even children running past him weren't afraid to avoid him or cry, as was the case elsewhere.
This feeling of being treated as ordinary was strange and precious to him.
"I like it here," Geralt thought, the corners of his mouth involuntarily lifting.
The frustration caused by the arguments with Yennefer and being "hunted" was also softened by the peaceful and inclusive atmosphere of this land.
At that moment, Karl suddenly stopped a few meters from the inn's wooden door.
He turned to Geralt, whose eyes flickered with uncertainty, asking what Karl meant.
Standing with his back to the inn door, Karl raised his hand and casually pointed his thumb behind him.
He distinctly felt a subtle but targeted mental wave emanating from the inn,
attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation and thoughts. Undoubtedly, it was Yennefer.
Therefore, Karl slightly raised his brows, pretending not to notice the covert espionage.
He deliberately said to Geralt with a smile, under the opponent's "surveillance": "It seems a certain ill-tempered lady has been waiting for you for a long time."
He changed his mind, as if suddenly remembering something: "Oh, by the way. I've been idle lately and developed a little spell, which I call 'Mind Closure'."
"As for the effect, it can help resist the prying of malicious mental spells, such as psychic energy and mind reading."
"What do you think? Do you need me to cast it on you now?"
He deliberately raised his voice slightly so that the source of the mental wave could hear clearly.
"I believe that even the closest couples should respect each other's privacy."
"Eavesdropping on someone's thoughts without permission is not a way of communicating worth maintaining."
His words seemed to be spoken to Geralt on the surface,
but in fact, each word was clearly transmitted inside the inn, touching the heart of Yennefer, who was casting a spell to spy.
Near the inn's counter stood a woman with a graceful figure and an outstanding temperament.
She had long, slightly curly hair, black and shiny as a raven's feather.
The most striking things on her face were her violet eyes, a beautiful mole at the corner of her mouth, and three glasses of almost untouched wine before her.
At that moment, Yennefer's violet eyes flickered slightly, and surprise and a hint of fear appeared in her eyes.
"The other party found me?" She felt a sense of admiration in her heart.
Recalling how the other party had just intentionally or unintentionally glanced at the scout crow disguised by magic,
"And... did he really break it directly? What else did he say about 'Mind Closure'?"
She snorted softly and muttered to herself, a note of dissatisfaction and scrutiny in her voice.
"He's an interesting fellow... Geralt never mentioned having such a friend, a Grand Duke."
"The Golden Angel... single-handedly killed thousands of soldiers... Is he also a sorcerer?"
Outside the inn, Geralt heard Karl's proposal without much hesitation and immediately nodded: "No problem, Karl, cast the spell."
He was truly tired of the feeling of being spied on at every turn, even by Yennefer.
Under the watchful gaze of Yennefer's curious and slightly skeptical mind, Karl's performance surprised her again.
He didn't recite long, clumsy incantations or make complex, cumbersome gestures.
Instead, he casually raised his hand and lightly tapped the center of Geralt's forehead with his index finger.
A faint golden light, like honey dissolving in water, instantly vanished into Geralt's brow, then disappeared.
Then Karl lowered his hand, as if nothing had happened, and said relaxedly: "Alright, the spell is done."
Yennefer in the inn couldn't help but raise her neatly shaped brows, her face unable to hide its surprise.
In her perception, an extremely vague but powerful energy fluctuation had indeed just flashed.
But she couldn't understand its composition at all, let alone recognize any familiar traces of magic.
This almost traceless method of spellcasting, along with the unknown energy properties, made her feel incredible.
She had only seen similar magical skills from leading sorceresses like her teacher, Tissaia.
"No magical fluctuations? How is that possible?" Yennefer was full of doubts.
"Is it some clever camouflage or... what he used wasn't magic at all?"
"If he truly had such talent, he should have become famous in the Magic Society long ago. How could he have been unknown and only recently gained fame through his physical strength?"
Her mind lingered on Karl's too-young face.
She truly couldn't connect him with the magical mastery of a sorcerer comparable to Tissaia.
Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, and she became somewhat interested and wary of this mysterious Grand Duke of Terra, who had suddenly appeared.
It seemed the new friend Geralt had made was far more complex than she had imagined.
...
Geralt's hand dropped from his forehead; his fingertips felt neither residual warmth nor the tingling of a spell, only the normal temperature of his own skin.
His wolf-head medallion, usually sensitive to magic, still hung quietly on his chest, without the slightest tremor.
This was so unusual that he frowned, his amber pupils looking at Karl, who was indifferent.
"Karl, did you cast the spell? Why don't I feel anything?" Geralt's voice was low, with a hint of doubt.
He even subconsciously glanced at the medallion to make sure it wasn't broken.
When Karl heard this, the corners of his mouth curved into a smile mixed with clarity and slight playfulness.
"You can go in and try later, and you'll know. My way of casting spells is different from those sorcerers you know, who rely on Chaos magic."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over Geralt's chest: "Your medallion... it detects specific magical fluctuations. To me, it's a delicate ornament."
"Moreover, Geralt, how many of these low-level spellcasting sorcerers can perform stunning feats?"
"Anyone with better control over magic can complete a spell without disturbing your gadget."
Geralt was skeptical; Karl's words shook his decades of understanding as a Witcher.
In the end, he simply nodded, temporarily suppressing this doubt.
He took a deep breath, as if preparing for a battlefield, not just an ordinary inn.
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