"The gifts of fate are already marked with a price in secret."
Guilliman didn't know where he had heard this saying, but he deeply agreed with it.
Whether in reality or in many literary works, he had seen many similar things.
However, worrying was useless; it was better to live in the present first.
As Guilliman thought about trivial matters, his gaze fell upon Valesa's beautiful face, filled with shock and excitement, and he felt a secret pleasure.
Perhaps it was his own twisted preference, but whether in bed or in life, he always enjoyed seeing those beautiful women—be they reserved, alluringly cold, or high and mighty—break down in front of him.
This psychological satisfaction was also one of the driving forces behind his continuous efforts.
With a smile on his lips, he soon saw the expression on Valesa's face change from shocked excitement to a mix of worry and trouble, so he asked:
"What's wrong, Valesa? Don't you need these things?"
"If that's the case, there's no need to be troubled; I can sell them to others."
Valesa shook her head, annoyed, and seemed hesitant to speak, but still replied:
"No, Guilliman."
"These are all scarce goods. Whether as war reserves or medical supplies, they are things we desperately need."
"But their value is too high; it's not something I can decide on my own."
"I must discuss it with others first."
Saying this, the female elf looked up, bit her lower lip, and said in a somewhat pleading tone:
"Give me some time, Guilliman."
"I will give you an answer as soon as possible."
Guilliman was not surprised by this outcome.
An ounce of anesthetic powder could sell for dozens of orens on the black market, and twenty kilograms of anesthetic powder was worth at least six thousand orens, and that was a friendly price.
Including the other contraband, the items he had brought out were worth nearly ten thousand orens, and they were always in high demand but short supply, with a price but no market.
Several thousand or even ten thousand orens was a huge sum of money anywhere. Even the great nobles with vast territories would need some time to raise it, let alone a small village like Ammonite Village.
Of course, if Valesa could buy these contraband items, the payment would certainly come from the forces behind her, but this was by no means a small matter and could not be rushed.
Seeing no one around, he chuckled softly.
He directly reached out and pulled Valesa into his arms, skillfully caressing her, loosening her clothes, and discarding unnecessary restraints, making the female elf's face even redder.
He stroked her smooth, jade-like, wheat-colored skin, and like a big bad wolf luring a little white rabbit, he whispered:
"Of course, no problem, Valesa."
"No need to be so formal between us; you help me, and I help you."
"However, last night, I was busy all night, didn't sleep a wink, and killed over a dozen bandits."
"Now I've accumulated a lot of stress, and it's your turn to help me."
"Hehe, the big bad wolf is coming!"
...In the following days, Berengar quietly recuperated in Ammonite Village.
Guilliman even hired a half-elf girl to specially look after him, serving this almost half-crippled witcher and taking care of his daily life.
His injuries were not simply a crippled left arm and greatly reduced combat effectiveness.
The magic of the Bone-Corroding Arrow had severely eroded his body, requiring a long period of rest.
During this time, although Guilliman was eager to learn and hoped to acquire more knowledge, he did not disturb the injured man too much.
Only at night, when he was free, he would chat with Berengar, talking about his past dangerous monster-hunting experiences and learning knowledge he hadn't mastered from their conversations.
Occasionally, while Valesa was busy with work, Lord Guilliman would sometimes secretly borrow the elf beauty's tall horse, put on a set of high-end clothes, slightly disguise himself, and pretend to be a wealthy person like a noble or a rich merchant, traveling to the prosperous towns nearby.
Of course, the reason for doing this was to gather more information, seek out powerful elite monsters, and understand the current turbulent situation... This afternoon.
Valesa and Francesca met secretly in the chamber as usual.
The keenly observant Elf Queen suddenly noticed that Valesa, her most capable subordinate, was inexplicably distracted.
So, she asked:
"What's wrong, Valesa?"
"Have you encountered any difficulties?"
Valesa certainly wouldn't tell her sovereign about her man's 'issues' in that regard.
She just gave an awkward smile and then asked:
"Your Majesty, what have you decided about the supplies in the witcher's hands?"
"Should we buy them?"
Francesca sat on an exquisite wicker chair, gently caressing her beautiful cheek with her fingers, and after a few seconds of contemplation, she replied:
"I have already considered this matter."
"Of course, we will buy them."
"Anesthetic powder is a very scarce and widely used medicine. Although sorcerers can also concoct this medicine, its raw material source is very rare, making large-scale production difficult."
"However, even I would find it difficult to raise such a large sum of money in a short time."
"How about this: I have several very practical magical items, and also some knowledge related to witchers."
"Go and ask that witcher if he is willing to buy these."
"If the time is right, arrange for us to meet."
"We might also have a few other commissions that your witcher can help with."