Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 42: The Woods Refused The Dead
Near supper time, Lannor and Bernie steered the boat back toward the village and prepared to call it a day.
After working together for a while, they had settled into a more efficient rhythm.
Out at dawn, back by dusk. With enough light left in the evening, equipment maintenance and preparation could all be finished before sleep.
Then at first light the next morning, everything could be put straight back into use.
The long days of hunting were not only helping Auridon’s villagers, they were teaching Lannor the habits a witcher ought to have.
The first few times out, he had wasted half a day just waiting on equipment.
Details like time management could not truly be learned from a teacher’s lectures. A man only grew into them by doing the work himself.
Time meant efficiency. In a trade where one lived or starved by one’s own hand, poor efficiency meant going hungry.
The moment they tied the boat fast, a malnourished little boy with an oversized head came sprinting down the dock.
“White, been waiting long?”
Lannor carefully stepped off the boat while greeting the boy.
“No, sir. Not long at all.”
The child hurriedly waved both hands, then took the sheathed silver sword Lannor handed over.
“Same as before. Take the sword to Ivan for me, feed Pope after that, then...”
Lannor smiled. With a flick of his thumb, a gleaming Oren rang through the air.
“That settles five days’ wages.”
“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”
White’s oversized head bobbed up and down with the bouncing coin, his bright eyes fixed on it like a cat staring at dried fish.
Hugging the sword to his chest, the child bounded off toward the village smithy.
Behind them, Bernie had just secured the rope and climbed ashore.
“You heading to Mrs. Donna’s after this?”
Lannor nodded.
“Mm. Slaughtering drowners feels good now, and it’s safe enough, but the gambeson...”
He raised the arm he had used to grip the “drowner shield.” The steel structure beneath the School armor had suffered little damage.
The outer padded layer, however, had been shredded badly by the drowner’s struggling claws.
“Being a witcher really burns through coin ... Ah well. I’ll be at the tavern later. Come find me if you fancy a drink.”
“Right. See you.”
By the time Lannor left Mrs. Donna’s house after dropping off the gambeson for repairs, he happened to run into White returning from his errands.
The little boy smiled awkwardly at him, fingers twisted tight in the hem of his clothes.
Lannor flicked another Oren from his thumb with a ringing chime.
“Hey. Catch your wages.”
The boy immediately forgot his embarrassment and scrambled frantically after the bouncing coin before finally trapping it in both hands.
When he looked up again, Lannor was already strolling toward the tavern as though nothing had happened.
Children that age carried a kind of natural spirit about them, or perhaps simply purity.
That purity had a calming effect on people.
Especially when teasing them.
At first, White had pretended not to know Mrs. Donna, hoping Lannor might order more clothes from his mother and improve the family’s situation a little, if only enough to spare her some heavy labor.
But once Lannor started visiting regularly to repair his gambeson, the child was bound to bump into him eventually.
Thinking back on that second meeting still made Lannor grin.
The moment White stepped inside and saw him there, the boy looked like he had walked into the wrong house.
Then, red-faced enough to steam, he stammered through excuses about how “my clothes are made here,” and “look how good the stitching is, they never wear out,” and “so I came to buy more.”
Mrs. Donna laughed so hard strands of hair slipped loose from beneath her headscarf.
Lannor had simply stood there and watched the performance.
What expression else could he have made?
A child, overwhelmed by the fierce and fragile shame only children possess, telling a tiny lie to help his family and blushing scarlet for it.
So Lannor had smiled and followed the boy’s advice, ordering several extra sets of everyday clothes as replacements.
It was practical enough. Armor needed clean underclothes changed often anyway.
That was also why White always looked awkward whenever he met him.
After spending more time together, Lannor had noticed something else too, the boy did not resent him.
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