Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 42
Near supper time, Lannor and Bernie brought the boat back to the village and prepared to rest.
After a period of working together, they had settled on a more efficient rhythm.
Out in the morning, back by dusk. With plenty of time left in the day, they could repair and ready their equipment before sleep.
Then at first light the next day, everything would be ready for use again.
This long stretch of hunting was not only helping the villagers of Auridon, Lannor himself was learning the habits a Witcher ought to have.
The first few times, he had still been wasting half a day simply waiting on his gear.
Details like managing time, that sort of knowledge was useless no matter how much a teacher explained it. A man had to do the work himself before he truly grew.
Time was efficiency, and in a line of work where one lived or starved by one’s own hand, lacking efficiency meant trouble even putting food in one’s mouth.
The moment they had the boat secured, a child with an oversized head atop an underfed little body came trotting over in a blur.
“White, been waiting long?”
As Lannor stepped carefully off the boat, he greeted the boy.
“Not long, not long.”
The boy quickly waved both hands.
At the same time, he took the sheathed silver sword Lannor handed him.
“Same as usual. Take the sword to Ivan for me, feed Pope, and then...”
Lannor smiled, and with a ringing flick of his thumb, popped a gleaming Oren into the air from his palm.
“That makes five days’ wages paid.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
White’s big head bobbed with the bouncing coin, his eager eyes not unlike a cat staring at dried fish.
Clutching the sword, the child skipped off toward the village smithy.
By then Bernie had tied off the boat rope at the pier and come ashore.
“You headed over to Mistress Donna’s next?”
Lannor nodded.
“Aye. Swinging at Drowners feels good now, and it’s safe enough too, but the padded outer layer...”
The young man raised the hand he had used to grab a “Drowner shield.” The steel beneath at the arm of the school armor was unharmed, but the outer padded layer had been reduced to tatters by the struggling monster.
“Witcher work really does burn through coin ... Fine then. I’ll be at the tavern. If you feel like a drink, come find me.”
“Aye. See you.”
When Lannor left the padded outer layer at Donna’s house and came back out, he happened to run into White on his way home after finishing his errands.
The boy gave him an awkward smile, his fingers clenched tight in the edge of his own clothes.
Lannor flicked an Oren from his hand with a clear ringing sound.
“Hey, catch your pay.”
The boy forgot his embarrassment at once and fumbled around trying to catch the bouncing coin before finally trapping it in his hands.
By the time he looked up again, Lannor had already headed toward the little tavern in the village as if nothing at all had happened.
Children of that age had a natural quickness of spirit, or rather a purity of heart. That purity had a calming effect.
Especially when one teased them a little.
That first time, White had pretended not to know Mistress Donna, hoping Lannor might order a few extra clothes from her and improve things at home, or at least spare Donna some of the heavier work.
But once Lannor began taking his padded outer layer there for repair, there was no way he and the boy would not keep crossing paths.
Thinking back on their second meeting, Lannor still found it amusing.
White had stepped inside, seen him there, and reacted as if he had walked into the wrong house entirely.
Then, face burning red, he had stammered out nonsense about how “my clothes are made here too,” and “look at the workmanship, they never wear out,” and “so I came back to order a few more,” and so on.
Mistress Donna had laughed so hard strands of hair slipped loose from under her scarf.
Lannor had just stood there and watched him perform.
What other expression could he have worn?
A child, blushing with all the force of his young and violent shame, lying a little in hopes of easing life at home.
So Lannor had smiled and, exactly as the boy suggested, ordered a few extra sets of everyday clothes as replacements.
In armor, he did in fact need fresh underlayers often enough, so he might as well buy them there.
That was also why White so often looked awkward whenever he ran into Lannor.
With time, Lannor had also realized the boy did not carry any hatred toward him.
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