Chapter 15: Shadows Around The Hearth

Mentos skipped past the permissions tied to elementary school, middle school, high school, all of it, and quietly unlocked a single restriction for Lannor at the university level.

It sounded impressive.

At present, though, neither Lannor nor Mentos could feel any real change. One restriction lifted did not mean the barrier itself had been cleared. The Intelligence Core’s processing authority and operating permissions were still locked to the Commonwealth of Man’s elementary education standard.

At best, perhaps future university-level coursework would become easier to access.

For the moment, Lannor shoved the matter aside.

“So you’re Aaron, the elder of Auridon?”

Rainwater dripped from his hair as he stood inside the tavern of the village where the murders had taken place, tilting his head slightly as he spoke.

Outside, thunderclouds and heavy rain smothered the sky. Inside, the room was dim enough that a single candle only barely lit half the old man’s body.

Even so, Lannor’s lowered beast-like pupils still caught every detail.

A typical northern peasant.

His face sagged beneath layers of exhaustion and numb resignation, deep wrinkles cut into the skin. Thick calluses covered every finger. Years of labor had twisted his posture slightly crooked, one shoulder higher than the other. Even as village elder, the extent of his prosperity amounted to little more than a pair of pointed soft-leather boots and a smoking pipe between his teeth.

“That’s me. Bill, this is a tavern, isn’t it? Stop standing there gawking and get the guest some water.”

The old man plainly wanted nothing to do with Lannor. But after glancing at the Pendant of the Roaring Bear hanging around the young witcher’s neck, he pursed his lips and reluctantly sat at the same table. Even then, only half his backside touched the bench, as if he might bolt at any moment.

“Sorry, witcher ... but we haven’t posted any contracts lately. I don’t know what you’ve come here for.”

There were still several villagers inside the tavern, but shortly after Lannor entered, they all edged away from him, staring with wary distance and naked hostility.

Like they were watching some living source of plague.

The barkeep named Bill kept wiping his hands after setting down the cup of water.