Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Value of "Safety"

Before Lan had dealt with his teacher, Mentos's primary task was to assist in his growth and provide simulation calculations for his resistance plans. However, after Bordon met his end at Lan's hands, the AI didn't relax; instead, it immediately switched to a new operational logic.

It began plotting Lan's future. Thus, it urged its master that the top priority was to dive into training that would address his shortcomings. But it hadn't anticipated that Lan would exceed its plans.

"The lake area around Oreton is primarily inhabited by drowners and water hags. The level of danger is entirely manageable; it's the perfect material for honing your skills. And the best part is that this material doesn't require payment. Instead, the village will pay you. Getting a village that had no contracts to launch a large-scale monster hunting task, sir? Your business acumen is undoubtedly pioneering in the field of witchers." Mentos praised sincerely.

According to Bordon's words and the circumstances of the past month, a witcher's daily life truly relied on luck and the whims of fate. Spending days traveling from one village to the next, hoping to encounter a contract.

Yet, Lan had only been in Oreton for an hour, and the village was already bustling, rummaging through their resources to support this witcher contract. It was hard to imagine that prior to the young man's arrival, the last time Oreton had summoned a witcher to deal with monsters was two generations ago.

"And most importantly, we have obtained safe and stable housing and food." Mentos's voice was more cheerful than usual.

Lan nodded in agreement.

In both Mentos's and Lan's eyes, a significant portion of the current predicament stemmed from the prevailing social climate of racial hatred. Even if a witcher could find lodging in a tavern that required payment, staying there for a day or two could still be justified as part of a mission.

However, over time, the tavern owner would unhesitatingly call the lord of the region, claiming that there was a suspicious mutant in his establishment. Could a mutant's money possibly be earned through honest means? Driving the mutant away—or simply killing him—would leave the money behind. Everyone would give a thumbs up and say, "Well done!"

The cleanliness of the money was directly tied to one's race. Such reasoning made no sense, but it frequently occurred here, becoming a common phenomenon. Thus, even if he was willing to pay, finding a safe place for Lan to complete his training and enhancements was still uncertain.

But in present-day Oreton? What the elder eats, the witcher eats. Do you want to make things difficult for the witcher? I think you want to make things difficult for us in Oreton!

Once, Lan had accompanied Bordon to clear a ghoul nest from a field.

After they finished the job, the employer had no intention of paying the final amount. Instead, he summoned a group of fanatics from the Eternal Fire, who came with swords, hammers, and axes, shouting about purifying mutants. Bordon and Lan had no choice but to turn and run. During those days, Bordon's meal standard had even dropped to match that of his apprentice.

But now, Lan had created a demand for monster hunting in this village, tying that demand to himself.

Lan stepped out of the elder's house, leading the two horses he had brought to a dilapidated wooden shed outside the village. As he walked, the villagers no longer regarded him with the disdain typically reserved for a plague; instead, they were warm and friendly. They even offered to help him unload the Bear School armor that he couldn't wear yet and bring it inside.

Lan felt that aside from tasks that required him to draw his sword, there was little physical labor he could manage at this time. His education and upbringing had ingrained in him a habit of expressing gratitude to those who helped him, or at least smiling and nodding. But before he could make a move, his rationality stopped him. With a blank expression, Lan turned and walked away.

"Everyone loves money, Mentos," the young man reiterated. "They don't like me; it's just that my future income is tied to theirs, so they have to like me. Therefore, I must adopt a somewhat impatient attitude so that they can be even more convinced that their income will soar in the future. Because that aligns with their worldview."

"So, you mean if you want to help the poor, you can't speak nicely to them?" Mentos recalled a saying from the corners of Lan's memory.

"I used to think that phrase was utter nonsense. But now, to ensure that neither I nor the villagers have the opportunity to harm each other, I must practice this saying. Truly… ridiculous."

Lan asked a villager where Elder Allen could be found before turning to leave. The village was constructed from uneven wooden planks, a chaotic sight. But it wasn't large, and soon enough, Lan found Elder Allen, who was busy gathering straw.

"Are you looking for the blacksmith?" The village elder scratched his neck, revealing a fair amount of grime under his nails.

"The sword blade needs sharpening, and the armor needs repairs. I don't know how many monsters I'll need to kill while I'm here, so you need to arrange a place for me to fix my gear." Lan frowned, his tone cold and impatient. As he had anticipated, this caused Elder Allen to take him more seriously.

"Yes! There is a blacksmith. He's over at the edge of the village; that dry spot is set aside for him. Just… I don't know if you'll accept his skills."

As he spoke, Elder Allen led Lan along. Soon, amidst the sound of clanging metal, they arrived at a forge where a burly man was working.

"You're the discounted witcher, right? Word has spread throughout the village." The man's sweat mixed with grease, forming a reflective film on his skin. He laughed heartily and extended a hand in invitation. "Come, don't be shy. Let's see what I have that might be useful."

Seeing the man's confidence piqued Lan's curiosity. He began to casually examine some of the blacksmith's works in this makeshift workshop. Most of the items were farming tools—sickles, fish spears, and occasionally there were a few unfinished Velen longswords. But soon, Lan's initial anticipation faded as he set the samples aside.

"Forget it." Though he hadn't handled many fine swords, just examining the blacksmith's work was enough. Dull, poorly shaped—there were problems with both the quenching and forging. The Velen longsword was probably the pinnacle of his skill.

Lan's interest waned, and both the blacksmith and Elder Allen could clearly see this. The blacksmith grew somewhat displeased, as he still had some confidence in his skills. His cheerful laughter evaporated.

"What? You think my craftsmanship is lacking?"

Lan said little and slowly drew out the Bear School steel sword from behind him. As the gleaming blade appeared, the blacksmith's frown of displeasure transformed into wide-eyed astonishment.

"By Melitele's grace!" The blacksmith exclaimed, staring incredulously at the young man. It seemed he could hardly believe that someone would take such a fine sword into battle instead of storing it as a family heirloom. He quickly admitted that he had no right to even touch such a blade.

"Honestly, I thought my skills were quite respectable in Velen, haha." The burly man chuckled awkwardly. He then indicated that minor repairs would be manageable. However, if there were structural damage, the only places in Velen that might have a blacksmith master qualified to handle it would be the capital—Gors Velen—or Crow's Perch, where the lord resided.

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