Chapter 15: The Village Elder
Mentos had bypassed the limitations of elementary, middle, and high school, unlocking a level at the university tier for Lan. It sounded impressive. However, at this stage, neither Lan nor Mentos felt it was of any real use.
It was merely a threshold; the AI's computational power and operational permissions remained locked at the elementary level of the Federation. In the future, perhaps the completion of university-level courses might bring some benefits? Lan chose not to dwell on that for now.
"So, you are the village elder of Oreton, Allen?"
In the tavern of a village where a murder had occurred, Lan wiped the rainwater off his head and tilted his head in inquiry. Even though the outside was shrouded in heavy rain and dark clouds, the dim interior was illuminated only by a single candle, barely lighting up the old man's half-visible form. Yet, Lan's cat-like eyes caught numerous details with remarkable clarity.
He was a typical northern farmer. His face bore the exhausted numbness of labor, lined with deep wrinkles. His thick, calloused fingers hinted at years of hard work, and his body had developed slight deformities from long-term, strenuous labor, with one shoulder higher than the other. Even as the village elder, his economic circumstances allowed him only slightly better than the average villager—a pair of pointed leather boots and a pipe clamped between his teeth.
"I am. Bill, you run the tavern. Don't just stand there; pour a drink for the guest."
It was clear that the old man had no desire to engage with Lan. However, glancing at the roaring bear necklace around the young man's neck, he pursed his lips and reluctantly took a seat at the same table. He barely sat down, his weight resting on only half of the bench, ready to bolt at any moment.
"Sorry, witcher, but we haven't issued any contracts recently. I don't know what you're here for?"
There were a few villagers in the tavern, but as soon as Lan entered, they quickly distanced themselves from him, eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and disdain. It was as if they were guarding against a source of contagion.
The bartender, named Bill, set down the water and continued to wipe his hands anxiously.
Lan could feel the disdain and fear emanating from the people—he had seen it before. Despite being in this world for only a short time, he understood all too well the pathological nature of the "racial hatred" that had never felt real in his previous life.
Dimly, Lan sensed that this atmosphere had been deliberately stoked. Although he hadn't read the local history books, his prior education provided numerous comparable examples.
Thus, he felt both pity and contempt for the villagers before him. Contempt for how easily they were stirred up. Pity that they might live their entire lives without wisdom, failing to realize they were being "manipulated."
"Of course, you haven't issued any contracts; I'm not here for that," Lan replied in a calm tone, avoiding direct eye contact with his cat-like pupils to put them at ease.
His mind raced with thoughts since gaining the AI, but it was easy for him to get distracted. He was currently focused on gathering his thoughts, ensuring that his emotional shifts were imperceptible to the ordinary observer.
"Then, what…?" Elder Allen hesitated, the scent of cheap alcohol wafting from his breath as Lan wrinkled his nose.
"Not long ago, a witcher wearing a necklace like mine killed two people here, right?"
His tone remained flat, but it suddenly provoked a fierce reaction in the tavern. The crowd nearby erupted into a clamor, their previously timid and hostile gazes now tinged with malice.
"Is he here to stir up trouble? Does he want us to stay quiet?!"
"We should take revenge. That mutant scum killed two people here."
"He's just one person we can take him together and throw him into the lake."
The villagers whispered among themselves, and Lan caught every word, though his expression remained inscrutable.
Elder Allen had completely lifted himself from the bench, appearing ready to leap away at any moment. Yet, as the village elder, he had more sense than the average villager.
"Witcher, we… we can't interfere with Lord Vserad's bounty. There's no point in you coming here."
The old man sought to make a last effort to avert bloodshed. Not out of a love for peace or a respect for life, but because in this era, every village struggled to accept the injury or death of young laborers.
As adrenaline coursed through them, the villagers' breathing grew heavy as they began to covertly reach for their weapons.
Lan didn't want to witness any bloodshed either, so for the first time since entering the tavern, he lifted his gaze to scan the increasingly agitated crowd. Then, the emotionally charged villagers felt as if cold water had been thrown over them. In the dim light, the witcher's cat-like eyes began to glow.
This world possessed magic, but it was a rare commodity. Thus, it was shrouded in mystery, inaccessible to a group of farmers. Suddenly, a group of medieval farmers found themselves staring at a man with glowing cat eyes. Fear and shock rendered them momentarily speechless.
"The witcher who killed here is already dead, and I'm not here to settle his troubles." Lan spoke in a tone that was calm to the point of being cold in his conversation with the elder. He knew when to use a tone that commanded respect; the lightheartedness he shared with Mentos was absent in this moment.
"The Grandmaster of the Bear School has heard about Bordon, the killer, and his misdeeds here. He has also heard of the local lord's concern, so he has activated the sacred traditions within the witcher community and sent me to offer some form of compensation."
This was a lie. Haern Caduch Keep was now devoid of life, and there was no Grandmaster of the Bear School to speak of. But Lan felt no sense of belonging to his school or even to his "witcher" identity. Therefore, he had no qualms about deceiving the ignorant villagers.
Old Allen hesitated but eventually sat back down.
"Thank you very much. Bill, what are you dawdling for? This is a tavern! When I tell you to pour a drink, I mean it. Bring something decent." He reprimanded the bartender to vent his fear, but when he turned back to Lan, he became more reserved.
"May I ask your name?"
The young man paused slightly at this question. But he quickly responded smoothly, "Lan of Cintra."
Bordon's full name when traveling was Bordon of Cintra.
"Ah, good, Mr. Lan. But I've never heard of a mutant witcher doing this sort of thing?"
Lan's reply was cold and blunt.
"Didn't you hear me? 'The lord's concern.' To ensure our ability to work legally in Velen in the future, we must consider his feelings. Do you think we would compensate for murder just anywhere?"
Compared to his earlier exchanges, Lan's tone had turned sharper, but Elder Allen immediately lowered a significant portion of his guard. The villagers behind him did the same. Because this aligned with their worldview.
Doing good business meant taking a loss, and a person who incurred a loss should be resentful. If someone was forced to take on a losing task, their speech should be correspondingly harsh; that was normal.
The bartender had previously been reluctant, slowly pouring his homemade brew into a cup, but in an instant, he now approached Lan with a full glass.
"Oh, is that how it is?! May Melitele bless you, master witcher. We're just fishermen with generations of tradition; we have no experience. Please don't hold what happened against us."
"Bill. You fool! Don't serve the guest cheap swill. Bring out your Royal Vizima."
Turning back, Elder Allen's tone suddenly became warm and cordial.
"How much compensation are you referring to, then?" Allen's weathered face beamed with a smile as he looked at Lan, his eyes scanning the young man's form, hoping to catch sight of a bulging coin pouch, his hands rubbing together like a fly.
But in the face of his smile, Lan's expression remained unmoved, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "So, Elder Allen, you can arrange for me to have a meal and a place to stay."
"Huh?!" The eyes of the man waiting for gold widened in shock as they met Lan's glowing cat eyes. Was there something wrong!?
And at that moment, Mentos let out a meaningful "oh" in Lan's mind. In this moment of shared plans, the AI realized that its master's actions not only satisfied his moral standards… but it seemed there were also practical gains to be had?!
*****
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