The Witcher: Astartes Of The Bear School

Chapter 42: Alchemical Ingredients

As dinner time approached, Lan and Bernie docked their boat back in the village, ready to rest. After some adjustments, they had settled on a more efficient working schedule. They would head out in the morning and return to the village in the afternoon. With the ample time in between, they could repair and prepare their equipment before bed, ensuring it was ready for use the next day.

This long-term hunting not only helped the villagers of Oreton but also taught Lan the habits of a witcher's life. In the early days, he had wasted half the day waiting for his equipment to be ready. Such detailed knowledge, even if taught by a master, could only be truly learned through hands-on experience. Time was efficiency, and in a self-sustaining "service industry," inefficiency meant going hungry.

As soon as they secured the boat, a malnourished boy with a disproportionately large head ran over.

"White, did you wait long?" Lan carefully disembarked and greeted the boy.

"Not long, not long," the boy hurriedly waved his hands. He also took the sheathed silver sword Lan handed him.

"As usual, take the sword to Ivan and feed Popeye. Then," Lan smiled as he flicked a shiny Oren coin from his palm. "Here's your pay for the last five days."

"Thank you, sir!" The boy's large head bobbed with the coin, his eager eyes resembling a cat eyeing a fish.

The boy ran off to the village blacksmith with the sword. Meanwhile, Bernie tied the boat to the dock and came ashore.

"Are you heading to Ms. Donna's place next?" Bernie asked.

Lan nodded. "Yes, even though it's satisfying and safe to cut down drowners now, the cotton armor is..."

The young witcher raised his hand, which had held the "drowner shield." The steel structure of the Bear School armor was fine, but the outer cotton layer was torn and tattered from the drowner's struggles.

"Being a witcher is expensive. I'll be at the tavern if you want a drink."

"See you there."

As Lan left the cotton armor at Ms. Donna's house, he bumped into White, who had just finished his errands. The boy smiled awkwardly, his fingers fidgeting with his clothes.

Lan flicked another Oren coin from his hand. "Hey, here's your pay!"

The boy, flustered, fumbled to catch the bouncing coin. By the time he secured it, Lan was already on his way to the village tavern. Children had an innate purity, a kind of spiritual clarity that brought peace, especially when teased.

Initially, White pretended not to know Ms. Donna, hoping Lan would get more clothes made for his mother to improve their household situation and lighten her workload. But after a few encounters while repairing the cotton armor, Lan couldn't help but notice the boy.

Recalling their second meeting, Lan still found it amusing. White had entered, startled as if he had entered the wrong house. His flushed cheeks and stammering about "my clothes were made here," "look at the craftsmanship, they don't wear out," and "so I came to buy more," made Ms. Donna laugh until her hair fell out of her headscarf.

Lan watched the performance, smiling. What else could he do? The boy, with his innocent yet strong sense of shame, had fabricated a small lie to improve his family's situation, his face red with embarrassment. Lan had smiled and ordered a few more sets of clothes as replacements, as he indeed needed spare undergarments to wear under his armor.

This was why White often looked embarrassed when he saw Lan.

Over time, Lan realized that White harbored no resentment towards him. Despite the racial discrimination prevalent in this world, White had been taught by Ms. Donna to distinguish between individual and collective hatred.

White disliked, or rather felt uneasy about, the group of witchers who had killed his father, which was understandable. But his attitude towards Lan, who had helped the village, was quite friendly.

"It's not that unusual. Gulp—" Bernie took a big swig from his mug.

"Ever since his father died, White seems to have matured and worked harder. Damn, seeing him makes me wonder if disappearing for a while would be good for my kids." The already red-cheeked fisherman-hunter pondered.

"Should I let their mom tell them I was bitten by a drowner on the neck? What do you think?"

"Not a good idea," Lan wiped the beer foam from his mouth and shrugged. "In this village, if White can let go of his resentment, I'd consider it a stroke of luck. I don't want your kids looking at me like they want to eat me."

Old Allen chimed in, "Lan's right. Don't do anything unnecessary. It's a blessing from the goddess that the child can grow up. We can't ask for more."

"Alright, alright," Bernie waved it off, just talking.

"By the way, Lan, you mentioned using alchemy to make potions. What ingredients do you need? You should tell Old Allen."

Old Allen put down his mug, suddenly interested.

"Lan, you can make potions? Are you also a healer?" In this era of limited medical knowledge, the roles of alchemists, witch doctors, and healers often overlapped.

Old Allen was excited because if Lan was a healer, his value to the village would increase significantly. While no village dared to seek a witcher's medical help, they would undoubtedly welcome Lan.

"I'm still a novice in alchemy," Lan quickly waved his hands to manage expectations.

"Whether it works or not remains to be seen. I've gathered some herbs outside, and there are materials from monsters, but there are things by the lake that I can't find. I'd like the villagers to help look for them in the wild."

"No problem, just ask, and everyone will be willing to help," Old Allen seemed more confident in Lan's reputation than Lan himself.

"White verbena petals, that's what I need. I can find honeysuckle and chickweed by the lake, but not these." Lan shrugged, explaining his difficulty.

Before Old Allen could respond, a voice from outside the tavern window interrupted.

"White verbena petals. No problem, I can do that." A boy with a large head peeked in, his red face showing how nervous he was. But he looked at the surprised Lan with determination.

"Leave it to me, sir!" Before Lan could react, the boy dashed off.

"That kid," Bernie was also surprised. "Was he eavesdropping?"

"Damn it!" Lan reacted, his eyes wide. "You mean..."

"You can hear a Water hag digging in the mud but not a kid crouching by the wall?"

"I was drinking!" Lan defended his reputation. "I was drinking in a safe place with my friend! That doesn't count!"

In his mind, Lan shouted, "Mentos! You're seriously slacking!"

Mentos thought, you didn't tell me to stay alert. You said I couldn't activate combat mode unless you stepped outside, right? But Mentos knew the best way to deal with Lan was to stay silent.

Fortunately, Bernie didn't dwell on the issue. "Alright, picking some petals doesn't require going into the forest, just by the roadside. It shouldn't be a problem. He deserves that Oren coin."

Lan had overpaid White, which was obvious to everyone, including White himself. So, he was eager to do more for Lan.

Lan shrugged, accepting the comment. But Old Allen frowned slightly.

"Normally, it shouldn't be a problem, but I've heard children have gone missing even in Midcopse, which isn't far from us." Before he finished, he shook his head.

"There is white verbena near the village. Those damned human traffickers shouldn't dare come close to the village. Let's do it this way."

***

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