Chapter 20: Hunter Bernie
Elder Allen didn't care for the witcher out of sympathy; rather, he had come to see Lan as the primary pillar of the village's income. To be honest—he hadn't been this concerned about his own son.
The young man's strategy of tying his interests to those of the village was proving effective.
Returning to the house, Elder Allen's wife was already finishing up at the stove. She was a typical countrywoman, sturdy in build, with a face lined with the same wear and tear as Elder Allen's. Her hair was tightly wrapped under a scarf, giving her a practical and no-nonsense appearance. She had been shocked to see a witcher in her home last night and had frequently pulled Elder Allen aside to whisper about it, casting glances at Lan.
But those whispers were akin to background noise to a witcher. After listening for a bit, Lan tuned them out. After all, she was just an old woman misled by rumors. Her greatest malice was likely just the annoyance of having to prepare an extra portion for dinner.
Breakfast consisted of last night's leftovers. It was a hodgepodge stew of fish, with each person receiving a bowl. The mixture included potatoes, onions, and a variety of foraged berries, which gave the broth a bizarre dark purple hue.
Lan had long adapted to the idea that he couldn't expect to eat well in this environment, so he accepted it readily. Without hesitation, he took a wooden spoon and scooped a generous helping from the pot, filling his bowl.
Elder Allen and his wife stared at Lan's bowl, then at him. They seemed puzzled as to how someone could be so unreserved.
"You just scooped up all the berries?"
Lan smiled sheepishly. "I've developed a bit of a taste for sweets lately."
"A 'bit'… wow" Mentos's voice echoed in his mind, sounding somewhat sarcastic. Yet Lan chose to ignore it. After all, he had calculated how to scoop the berries with the spoon to ensure he got that extra sweetness.
What was wrong with liking sweet things?! An ordinary person accustomed to overeating cheap sugary snacks suddenly found sugar and honey exorbitantly priced in this new world.
He had gone hungry for so long under his teacher's supervision. Was it so wrong to have a bit of an overreaction to sweetness?
Elder Allen didn't dwell on this, knowing it was more important to get Lan to eat and get to work.
"Everyone is waiting. What do you plan to do today?" Elder Allen sipped his soup, inquiring.
"Well, my work doesn't really involve most of you," Lan shrugged. "In the end, it's just me doing the heavy lifting. You only need to send someone familiar with the waterway and terrain, and a good tracker to guide me, and I can get started."
The village elder beamed at this response. He had initially thought he would need to pull villagers away from their tasks to assist. This way, they could save a significant amount of manpower.
After breakfast, Elder Allen led Lan to a man carrying a bow.
"Clap-clap—" Elder Allen patted the man on the shoulder with a broad smile. "This is Bernie, the best helmsman in the area. There's nowhere on the lake that he can't navigate."
He gestured toward the bow on Bernie's back. "He also does some hunting on the side. When you mentioned your requirements, he was the first person I thought of."
Lan and Bernie sized each other up, nodding in greeting. The man wasn't particularly muscular, dressed in a frayed linen shirt, with his pant legs tied tightly with lengths of rope for practicality. What set him apart from the average villager were the bow and gloves he carried. He wore a pair of large leather gauntlets that extended nearly to his elbows, secured tightly with rope due to their oversized fit. It served as a form of protection.
After introducing Bernie, Elder Allen didn't linger but turned to leave. Though he was the village elder, he still had to do farm work to make a living. The two men said nothing more and walked to the fishing dock in Oreton, boarding Bernie's fishing boat as they set out.
This lake had no official name, but it was named after the tower built by Lord Vserad on the central island, hence becoming "Lake Fyke." With that, the lake had a name.
(Note: The lake does have a name and it's Wyndamer. but you can't expect some poor villagers in Velen to know everything. That's why the lake is also named after the isle.)
Lan planned to start expanding from the outskirts of the existing fishing grounds, gradually moving outward.
When hunting drowners and water hags, witchers didn't need to engage in water. Battling monsters in their habitat was foolish. Even though drowners and water hags could move freely in the lake, they were still amphibious creatures. Their nests were typically built on the marshy edges.
This was Lan's target.
"We need to take the boat out of the fishing grounds and get close to the areas rich in fish along the shore." Seated at the bow of the boat, Lan explained the details to Bernie, who was at the stern steering.
The man merely nodded, managing the helm and sails, his expression revealing his clear displeasure. This situation prompted Lan to speak up.
"Do you have some problems with me? If so, we can turn back now and let Elder Allen find someone else. It's better to sort this out now." Lan spread his hands; his tone sincere. He didn't want to have such a person beside him while executing a combat mission. Even if it wasn't animosity but merely distraction, that could be perilous in a high-risk situation.
Faced with such a straightforward question from the witcher, Bernie felt compelled to speak. So, he took a deep breath.
"Please don't misunderstand, master witcher. You being here to implement compensation for those two farmers and to help us expand the fishing grounds, whether you want to or not, undoubtedly makes you a noble person deserving of respect. I hold you in high regard." Bernie's brow remained furrowed, but at least he was open to communication.
"Honestly, I'm the best fisherman and hunter in this village. I should be returning home today with a boat full of catch or having hunted a few rabbits. But now, I'm spending the whole day just dragging you around, and I'm getting nothing in return. I know this is for the future benefits of the village, and I'll undoubtedly benefit from it as well, but while others are out fishing for their families, I'm just here… Ah, don't worry. For your work, I won't slack off or do a half-hearted job."
"Wow—" the young man scratched his cheek. Faced with a companion who openly expressed dissatisfaction yet remained committed to the task, Lan momentarily found himself at a loss for words. "Well… won't Elder Allen compensate you for today's delay?"
"Of course he will; otherwise, why would he be the elder?" Bernie glanced at the young man in surprise. "But I said, I'm the 'best fisherman,' and he can only pay me the average rate."
Lan shook his head, falling silent.
Future profits looked promising, but if anyone were to suffer a loss in the present, it would inevitably lead to friction. Moreover, the future benefits belonged to everyone, while the current losses were personal. Even if the goddess Melitele herself came down, it would be hard to sort it out; he was merely a witcher and couldn't meddle in so many affairs. As long as Bernie's work attitude remained unaffected, that was all that mattered.
As they sailed, the boat's bottom bumped against the waves, eventually reaching the muddy shallows. The boat rocked gently before coming to a stop.
It was time for the witcher to get to work.
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