Everyone who was in any way connected with funny art has heard about the new production of the story of the white-haired witcher. They only heard good things – that, they say, the story there is almost better than that of Master Dandelion himself, and the witcher is just like a real one, and even sorceresses, sorceresses.
But they still doubted, were afraid to invest money. And Yaska had to stand up for art.
– You say the story is good? – a man, well dressed, clearly wearing orenas in his bosom, frowned suspiciously.
Yaska nodded with unusual energy for a dwarf.
– The best thing ever! Everyone will like it, it has everything: adventures like in legends, a mystery that doesn’t let go until the very end, and the work of a witcher, dangerous. There is love too, where would we be without it?.
The wrinkle between someone else’s eyebrows smoothed out a little. Apparently, so far I liked what Yaska said. He noticed and continued with redoubled ardor.
“Master Dandelion himself said: just like Geralt, just like the real thing.”. And Yenna, the sorceress I mean. And… a lot of people, in general. Not characters, people as they are. In just an hour you’ll be worried about your family, I bet.
The man bit his cheek thoughtfully. It’s a pity for him to part with his money, it’s obvious. And no wonder – for the thousand and a quarter orens that Yaska asked for, you can eat to your fill for a week.
– What about Buttercup?! — he clasped his hands, almost spilling his beer. “Master Andrzej himself would not have written better,” and clarified right there, just in case. — This is the one who started Geralt’s story.
The man looked suddenly interested. Savvy apparently got caught.
— Last time, too, almost the stars from the sky promised. “But it worked out,” he spat on the floor, clearly demonstrating to Yasuke his attitude towards what actually happened there in the end.
He sighed silently; with those blowing on the water after lukewarm milk, it was more difficult.
“Nope,” he drawled, not letting the man get excited. – This time the story will be really big. Just look at it for yourself, just how much.
And he put his hand on the table to make it easier to count.
— Velen with its swamps. White Garden. Novigrad. Vizima is the same. I won’t reveal everything, but it’s already coming out well.
The man squinted, trying to remember https://haha777casino.co.uk/ what happened in the previous production, which was sonorously called “Assassin of Kings” and at one time also caused a lot of noise. Judging by his face, he came to useful conclusions for Yaska.
“And the main thing is not that there is a lot of space,” he continued enthusiastically, without giving time to think, “the main thing is that it’s rich.”. Something is happening everywhere, some kind of history is happening. Even while the witcher is jumping from one village to another, and then you won’t get bored.
The man chuckled incredulously, mindlessly sipping his beer. It’s understandable, in general. Yaska has heard that in recent years people have begun to be presented with such productions, where there is space, and stories with a goose tail, and also monotonous. Entertain yourself as you wish, it’s called. It’s not like blowing on water – you’ll start blowing on anything just to avoid getting caught like that again.
– You better tell me, the witcher will swing two pieces of iron again?
Yaska frowned mockingly.
“You’ll say the same, dear,” he shook his head, expressing his extreme disapproval. He even crossed his arms over his chest. – Two pieces of iron, ha.
The man hesitated, as if realizing that he had stepped on a sore spot.
— Legendary witcher blades obtained from forgotten caches and tombs! — unable to resist, he waved his fist as if with that same sword. And then casually added. – And also with clubs, axes, carabels, crossbows. We won’t subtract bombs and signs either. And alchemy.
The man chuckled, as if not knowing whether to take him seriously.
“And this time the witcher will really look like a witcher in fights, and not like a rotten deck,” Yaska concluded, remembering the complaint about the previous production. – You definitely won’t be bored.
The man thoughtfully tapped his fingers on his mug. He glanced sideways at Yask, cautiously, as if he wanted to ask, but didn’t know how to approach. He grinned knowingly and said:
– And the women are a sight for sore eyes. Whether the stately Yennefer or the funny Triss, everyone will find something to their liking.
– And in addition there is a sorceress, and a warrior from Skellige, and beautiful elves.
And he showed with his palms in girth how much. The man noticeably cheered up.
Thoughtfully sipped on the mugs. Jaska wiped beer off his beard with the back of his hand.
“And also,” he lowered his voice to make it seem more sincere. The man leaned closer with interest, “We have such beauty, it’s beyond our strength to admire it, by God.”. When the witcher’s horse wanders along a deserted country road, and the sun sets, and the surrounding fields are like a golden sea. Or when a fierce wind bends the trees, and above them there is lightning, and the clouds are the color of wolf skins, and it looks like it’s raining.
The man breathed out in fascination. Yaska suddenly felt longing for all this – the sun gilding the fields, and the biting wind, and the red roofs of Novigrad.
“Atmosphere,” he chuckled, as if he had lost part of his passion. “You won’t find anything like this in the daylight these days.”.
The man shook his head respectfully. Wrinkled more for show.
And he dumped the whole thousand and a quarter orens on the table. Yaska smiled contentedly. And he went to convey the good news to the troupe – let them unfold the tents.
Yaska, whistling falsely, walked from the folding tents. Something ends, something begins, it’s time to get back on the road and look for clients. I slowed down – the old man was standing at the gate – the same one who was counting out the gold. His eyes were swollen.
“What are you talking about?” Yaska clumsily slapped him on the back. The man staggered, but stood firm. He just sniffed loudly. – It ended well.
“Yes,” the man agreed in a deep voice.
We were silent. The man shifted from foot to foot, slowly walking back. Yaska slowly filled his pipe and took a drag. Knew where it would all come.
“It ended well,” he repeated thoughtfully again. And then he jumped up, sadly, with anguish. – And then how?? If there,” the man waved his palm somewhere towards the stage without looking, “such. And here..
And he looked at Yask, as if he were not a grumpy dwarf, but a prophet-Swan. Yaska thoughtfully exhaled an uneven gray ring. And he said, as not even dozens – hundreds of times before:
– So, this story is over. And others haven’t even started yet. I heard about the Prince of Ophir and the man with the heart of stone?
The man shook his head. Hope dawned in his swollen eyes.
“Women shed tears from her, just collect them in buckets,” he said confidentially. – And about Toussaint and the monster, so terrible that the princess sent her knights to distant lands for the witcher?
The man shook his head again. His money was already ringing in Yaska’s pocket.
– Then I’ll come next week. You’ll just collect a thousand orens.
After today’s performance there was no doubt that the man would part with his money. This is Geralt. And the sorceresses and the Nilfgaardian princess. And the story is so breathtaking.