NOVEL NEXT Chapter 31: Chapter 31
Chapter 31: The Crisis of Faith
The bandaging done by the professional soldiers was rough, but it was practical. Bernie's wounds from the drowners were finally wrapped up, and he took a swig of rye vodka to numb the pain.
"Cheer up, Bernie. At least the drowner's claws were just dirty and not poisonous. Otherwise, you'd be in real trouble." Watching Bernie receive treatment, Lan wiped the beer foam from his mouth and offered some words of comfort. The drink was courtesy of Phillip.
After saying this, he turned to the sergeant who was treating himself to more alcohol.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Sergeant. But I think it's time we got to the point."
Phillip Strenger leaned on the table with both elbows, still downing his drink. "Gulp—You've gathered most of the situation already, and I don't have much to add. I truly hope you can help us catch that bastard; after all, the lord entrusted this task to me, and if I screw it up, I won't hear the end of it."
"What do you think, witcher?"
"Me?" Lan replied, furrowing his brow as he leaned back against the table. "Of course, I'm happy to have work, but I just received a long-term commission."
In truth, the current level of his [Tracking] made Lan feel uncertain. However, he knew he couldn't voice that now; showing any weakness in his professional abilities would jeopardize his standing in Velen.
"Forget about those shabby village commissions, witcher. You need to understand you're currently being brought here as a suspect. Even if I detain you for a month, it's entirely legal within Velen!" Phillip slammed his drink on the table, creating a loud noise that startled his companions. Lan remained unfazed.
Lan glanced at Bernie, who also looked hopeful. While the expansion of their fishing grounds could wait, the desecration of a place of worship was a matter that weighed heavily on the hearts of the local populace. Thus, Lan felt he had no reason to delay; if his skill level was lacking, he could compensate with his extraordinary senses.
His gaze shifted as he spoke, "Sergeant, merely threatening won't make people work well."
Phillip mumbled something impatiently before turning back to Lan. "I can request a reward of two hundred Orens from the lord, and I can offer you a set of my spare armor, which is at least better than that cotton stuff you've got."
"I don't want the armor; let's say thirty Orens instead."
Phillip nodded impatiently; his spare officer's armor was certainly of better quality than standard issue, and thirty Orens would be difficult to come by.
Lan was satisfied; he estimated that this money would be enough to resize the Bear School armor left behind by Bordon. And the savings from Bordon could be added to his small treasury.
Don't let the current lack of spending fool you; he needed to practice alchemy and stock up on potions and alchemical bombs in the future. In this world, lacking money meant you couldn't even raise your combat effectiveness.
"It's a deal; we'll meet here tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow? Why here?" Phillip's face flushed, reeking of alcohol. "Why can't we get started today? Let's rush to Duén Hen and wrap this troublesome matter up."
Lan wasn't wavering against the drunken sergeant's impatience. "Because we came here by boat, and I need to ride my horse. And the reason for being here is that I need to see the body first."
"Huh?" Phillip raised his head.
Lan shrugged. "As soon as I entered the village, I smelled the stench of a corpse."
"Oh! Right, I completely forgot. We laid that poor bastard here. Hey, you witchers have keen noses! Just as you said, we'll wait for you here tomorrow." It was clear that Phillip Strenger was a generous man, and despite his recent family troubles, he still showed warmth to Lan for his abilities.
Lan helped Bernie up and nodded to the group of soldiers before stepping out of the tavern. As they walked back along the path to their boat, Bernie, with his injured hand, was still able to steer. After a bit of a struggle, they managed to return to Oreton even earlier than the previous day.
This time, the response from the villagers was much more normal; they simply couldn't afford daily drinking parties. But when Bernie and Lan informed Elder Allen about the investigation of the murder case in Duén Hen, the village elder was genuinely shocked. The old man, who had smoked tobacco for decades, nearly choked on his breath, almost coughing out his eyeballs.
"Cough! Cough! You say… a murder case?! In Duén Hen?! By the plague above!" Elder Allen turned to look at his wife, who was busy in the kitchen, and quickly ushered the two men out of the house, closing the door behind them.
"We can't let Hipona know about this; she might faint from fear. But how can we hide such news?!" The elder clutched his pipe, murmuring in a daze.
The more impoverished a place was, the greater the weight of faith in the lives of its people. And the faith in Melitele, which preached selflessness and charity, was something Lan had never encountered in his historical knowledge—it was akin to a nuclear bomb.
Lan himself didn't hold any religious beliefs, but having lived here for a while, he could understand the elder's current terror.
"Lan, I'll send Ivan to repair your sword right now. As for the incident in Duén Hen, our fishing grounds can wait; after all, Bernie is injured and needs a few days to recover. But defiling Melitele… my god, I can't believe I'm even uttering those words! Please, you must catch the murderer."
Lan nodded, reassuring the distraught elder.
Just as the village elder had guessed, the news of the murder case in Duén Hen was impossible to suppress. It wasn't that the three of them were spreading the word; rather, the fishermen who had gone out to fish spontaneously gathered information and rumors from along the coast. Considering the timing of the incident and the travel distance, the speed of rumor spread was fairly normal.
The dreadful news of the faith's desecration spread like a plague through the village. Even the most indifferent men seemed shaken, let alone the women who embodied the faith. From what Lan observed, even Donna, a woman who could maintain optimism in the face of hardship, was now wringing her clothes and scanning her surroundings, completely at a loss.
In Oreton, more than sixty percent of the women screamed upon hearing the news, immediately abandoning their chores and desperately began to pray to the merciful Melitele. In rural areas, the productivity of women was not to be underestimated; sewing, cooking, and caring for children—no household was seen as complete or reliable without women. With so many women unable to work, Oreton was on the brink of paralysis.
Moreover, considering that Duén Hen served as a place of worship for dozens, if not hundreds, of villages located within a two to three-day travel radius, the panic and paralysis affecting so many communities was enough to chill one's spine.
It was no wonder the lord didn't take it lightly.
***
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