System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 132
The weather was clear, warm sunlight finally driving away the gloom that had hung over Ellander for months.
On the bustling main street, two witchers walked side by side toward the animal market on the eastern side of the city, intending to see whether they could find suitable horses.
After they had dealt with the major trouble inside the princely palace, the Prince had been uncharacteristically generous, paying them 600 Crowns, including a fee for discretion.
Their shriveled coin purses were full again.
Buying horses was not just for travel. Roy had long wanted to try out his newly acquired Class Feature: Mount.
According to the description, all manner of animals could be tamed as mounts, lions, tigers, grizzly bears, sharks, whales; magical creatures such as Cockatrices, Dracolizards, Wyverns, Griffins, Armored Arachas, mermaids, even true Dragons.
Whether they flew through the skies, ran across land, or swam through rivers and seas, all could be bound as mounts.
The trouble was finding them in the first place, and the rarer and more powerful the creature, the harder it was to tame. So he planned to start with an ordinary horse to get a feel for it.
After all, a Mount could be unbound at any time.
...
The two squeezed their way through the animal market, thick with the rank body odor of livestock and filled with the lowing of cattle, the bleating of sheep, and the grunts of pigs, until they reached the stables at the far end.
A horse trader wearing a headscarf, a brown short coat, and tall boots came forward to greet them. His weather-beaten, ruddy face split into a broad grin.
Merchants had this advantage over common folk. They did not discriminate against witchers, though sometimes they did discriminate against the poor.
“Honored guests, this way please...”
The horse trader gestured with one hand. “By Defoe’s oath, you won’t find better horses anywhere else in the city, and the prices are fair. Of course, I’ve got expensive ones too, but you get what you pay for, I guarantee you’ll be satisfied.”
The witcher glanced around. The stable was neither large nor small, holding a little over thirty horses. “Where do your horses come from?”
“Most are from the pastures outside Ellander, some from Bardov to the south, some from Dorndale in the east.” The trader slapped his broad, black-haired hand against his chest. “All fed on quality fodder, all in good health, never been sick. Endurance and speed, they’re no worse than any other horse, at least at the same price.”
“They’ve been handled?” the bald witcher Letho asked.
“Eight out of ten are gelded. You know how it is, ungelded ones have nasty tempers and get distracted by mares, and most customers don’t have the patience to deal with that.”
Letho nodded. With his age and experience, he knew how to judge horses. “Go on with your work. We’ll pick one first, then come find you about the price.”
“You’re a man who knows his horses. Take your time.” The trader smiled politely and did not linger, dragging a bucket and rag into the other side of the stable to wash down a white mare.
“Roy, what color are you thinking, chestnut, black, gray, white?” The witcher scooped up a handful of chopped fresh grass from a bucket outside the stable and held it near a black horse’s head. When the horse leaned in to chew, he took the chance to lightly touch its neck with his other hand.
The black horse turned and bared its teeth, trying to bite him, and the witcher quickly pulled his hand back. He repeated the process, feeding it while slowly testing contact.
After a short while, the black horse accepted his presence, lowering its head obediently and letting him stroke it.
“Black, gray, or brown.” Roy’s gaze swept across the ring of stables. He had no intention of choosing a horse with flashy coloring, it was not his style. He added, “But I don’t want a gelded one.”
“Are you from some animal protection group?” The witcher snorted, disdain plain on his face. “Only novices who can’t ride pick like that. They think gelded horses aren’t wild enough, or it sounds unlucky, right up until they fall off and break a leg, then they regret it.”
“Take my advice and choose a gelding.” The witcher stroked the black horse from neck to shoulder, then tapped its nose. “This one’s good, it’ll take orders quickly and be ready for its next ‘battle’. Perfect for a beginner.”
Roy glanced at the black horse and shook his head. “Too old. Thirteen years. In another two years it won’t run anymore.”
The witcher was genuinely surprised. He did not remember this kid knowing how to judge horses.
“Ever heard the saying, an old horse knows the road? Look at its muscle lines and its hooves, it’s been kept well. Thirteen is nothing, if you ask me it could still run at eighteen. Horses like this know how to guide a novice, it suits you perfectly, and it’s cheap.”
“Forget it. I want to look around more.”
Roy stubbornly refused the witcher’s advice. He walked along the stables, scrying more than twenty horses of different colors and builds, until he finally found one that met his expectations:
Horse Age: 3 Sex: Male HP: 60
Attributes: Strength: 8 Agility: 8 Constitution: 5 Perception: 4 Willpower: 4.5 Charisma: 5 Spirit: 5
...
It was a brown horse, about five feet tall, with a smooth, glossy coat. A white blaze ran from its forehead to its muzzle, so that from the front its entire face looked white, leaving a strong impression.
Most importantly, it had not been gelded. Its Constitution and Agility were the highest among dozens of horses. The others, especially the gelded males, were clearly lower in Constitution.
That meant their endurance was lacking.
Imitating the witcher’s method, Roy grabbed a handful of fresh grass from the barrel with his left hand and pointed it toward the brown horse. His dark-gold pupils locked onto the horse’s black eyes as he tried to convey goodwill, moving at an unhurried pace to its right front.
The method did not seem to work.
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