Witcher: The Half Elf

Wayne sat in the tavern, silently absorbing the snippets of information that floated through the air. The benefits of his super hearing became evident to him, extending beyond the battlefield. Not only did it afford him heightened awareness in combat, rendering him less vulnerable to surprise attacks, but it also bestowed unexpected conveniences in daily life.

In the midst of the muffled conversations in the noisy tavern, the drunkards believed their words remained private. Unbeknownst to them, a witcher with superhuman senses lurked nearby. Wayne could catch even the faintest sounds within his expansive range of perception.

As Wayne enjoyed his meal, the hushed discussions around him revealed significant events in Vizima City, insights into city hall policies, details of a group of robbers' schemes, and even mentions of a vampire. Over the past year and a half, the residential area near the palace had been plagued by wild beast attacks and mysterious disappearances. The city guards' vague responses had fueled panic, causing many civilians to hesitate going out at night.

The atmosphere of fear had unintended consequences, as even gangsters and thieves refrained from criminal activities after dark, leading to a notable improvement in public security. However, the relocation of the palace and the initiation of new city construction had sparked a sense of crisis among more astute residents, prompting thoughts of relocation to escape the escalating supernatural threats that lingered in the shadows.

A wave of panic gripped the residents as the nocturnal monster's attacks continued, shrouded in mystery due to the authorities' deliberate concealment of the truth. Unbeknownst to the people, the true identity of the creature causing havoc at night was none other than the daughter of the reigning king, Foltest.

Just as Wayne found this revelation intriguing, a disheveled youth in tattered attire entered the tavern. Scanning the room, he located Wayne, carefully avoided other drinkers he walked up to him, and said: "Sir, your horse has been stolen."

Frowning at the news, Wayne promptly rose from his seat and exited the tavern. He pushed away the drunkard who was blocking the way, lifted the tapestry at the gate, and went to the stable to have a look. Sure enough, his black mare Lucifer, which he bought from Toruviel, had disappeared

Onlookers cast discreet glances, curious to observe Wayne's reaction. Despite maintaining a stoic exterior, Wayne was already cursing inside. A thief had dared to steal his horse from him. The audacity of stealing in a city, where were the vigilant city guards?

You must know that the price of a good horse if converted into oren, is at least six hundred oren, which is money that many poor people will not be able to earn in their entire lives.

Wayne harbored frustration but wasn't overly concerned. His most valuable possessions were with him person. The stolen horse carried only trivial items — herbs he had gathered and the elven bow bestowed by Toruviel.

Although he planned to track down the thieves later, ensuring they face the consequences, Wayne remained outwardly composed. Meanwhile, Old Yueke, the tavern's proprietor, came out quickly piecing together the situation with a casual inspection. Glancing at Wayne, he nonchalantly remarked, "It should be someone from the Wild Dog Gang."

"You shouldn't come to the slums on horseback. The price of a horse can change several lives here. Those guys can do anything for money."

Old Yueke looked at the steel sword in Wayne's hand and his amber pupils and said softly: "Besides, during this period of time, a large number of outsiders have poured into the city, and the city guards are very busy. If you report a theft case like this, by the time they come to deal with it, you will definitely not be able to find a single one."

"Either you think you are unlucky, or prepare a sum of money, maybe you can buy your horse back from the wild dog gang." Wayne raised his eyebrows and asked a little funny: " They Stole something from me and asked me to buy it back with my own money. This wild dog gang is quite courageous."

Old Yueke frowned and looked at Wayne, and warned: "Young man, I know you should have some special skills, and maybe some swordsmanship skills, but the Wild Dog Gang has dozens of members, and they are all villainous bastards."

"Their boss dog king is also good at training dogs. He has raised a lot of vicious dogs. Most people can't afford to mess with them."

"You don't want to lose your life because of a horse." Wayne nodded and did not speak. He suddenly noticed that the boy who had just told him that the horse had been stolen had also walked out of the tavern. His thin body in rags was shivering in the cold wind.

Old Yueke also noticed his gaze, turned his head to look at the boy, snorted and said: "The child's name is Alex. His only relative died two months ago. Now he is a beggar. He survived only with the help of the nun."

"He's a kind kid, but he did something stupid today." Wayne's expression changed, and he immediately understood the meaning of Old Yueke's words, and asked: "Will the Wild Dogs take revenge on him? A kid?"

Old Yueke spat on the ground and said in disgust

"These rascals are ruthless, but they won't tangle with nobles and the wealthy, so the city guards turn a blind eye," Old Yueke shared, his experienced demeanor evident. "I've seen my fair share. Gangs like the Wild Dog Gang don't last. In a few years, they'll be replaced, and these Wild Dog bastards will end up in some stinking ditch, forgotten. It's an endless cycle wherever people gather."

Wayne, cutting to the chase, queried, "Old Yueke, do you remember the half-elf kid who worked in your shop ten years ago?" Old Yueke turned, squinting at Wayne for more than ten seconds before recognition dawned. "I thought you looked familiar. You're Wayne, right? I remember you. A witcher now, with those cat-like eyes."

Surprised by the owner's recollection after so many years, Wayne inquired, "You remember me, Old Yueke?" The tavern owner snorted dismissively, "I have a good memory. If your mother, Martha, hadn't begged me several times, I wouldn't have taken in a kid like you who couldn't do a damn thing."

Ignoring the gruff tone, Wayne pressed on, concerned about his past. "What happened to my mother? Do you know about her?" The tavern owner, avoiding eye contact, sighed, revealing a more somber side. "What could be done? Even the Melitea Church nuns couldn't cure her illness. She succumbed to it within two months of your departure."

"Melissa took care of the burial arrangements, and Martha's grave is now in the church cemetery," Old Yueke disclosed. Wayne's countenance shifted, stirred by an invisible impulse that compelled him to visit Martha's grave. He sighed, seeking clarification, "Melissa? Aunt Melissa? The one who just served me wine and meat?"

In Wayne's hazy recollection, Melissa was a woman with whom his mother shared a close bond during challenging times—a relationship akin to mutual support rather than sisterhood.

Old Yueke, once again disdainful, confirmed, "Five or six years ago, a client injured her, breaking her leg. I pitied her, so I took her in. I wouldn't keep someone useless around if I didn't see her putting in hard work."