.｡.:✧ Chapter 7 ✧:.｡.

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Faina was crying. It was for a trivial reason. Of course, for a grown woman over twenty to sob like that, it must have been an immensely sad occurrence. But it was a simple incident. Faina’s lover Kun had not returned from the forest, and the hunter Uncle Gio had brought back Kun’s shoe. Since there were bloodstains around the shoe, Kun was likely dead. Who could have killed him? There was someone they suspected.

Recently, the number of wolves in the forest had increased significantly. What used to be just five or six had swelled to dozens, decimating the herbivore population. Now they encroached near the village, snatching people. For normal beasts like wolves to become such vicious killers, there could only be one reason.

A werewolf had settled in the forest.

The villagers gathered at the town hall, arguing heatedly. Some said to seek the lord’s soldiers, others proposed hiring mercenaries from the city to avoid the lord’s harsh taxes. The youths insisted on taking up arms themselves to behead the werewolf, just provide them weapons. Middle-aged women cried that they were terrified and demanded immediate action. The blacksmith shouted for calm discussion first.

Faina cried. Kun was the fifth victim. Yet none gathered suggested holding funerals for the five first. She wept missing her departed lover, unable to properly mourn him, and her powerlessness to avenge him.

Then someone spoke up,

“Oh, but isn’t there a warrior loitering in the village right now?”

“Ah, that barbarian?”

“Yeah, him. He’s absolutely massive, with that longsword – looked like he could fight well.”

“You saying we hire him for this?”

“Yeah. Those Aynakian barbarians are all famed warriors, right?”

But Auntie Ransia, the innkeeper, shook her head.

“That guy’s no good.”

“Why not?”

In response to the blacksmith Cleechee’s question, Auntie Ransia said,

“That guy hasn’t been sober a single day in the two weeks he’s stayed at my inn.”

Cleechee tilted his head quizzically.

“I was the one who first met him two weeks ago. He seemed in low spirits then, but not like a madman.”

“I’m not saying he’s insane. That guy’s done nothing but guzzle booze these entire two weeks.”

“Two whole weeks?”

Cleechee was surprised both by the barbarian’s constitution and the likely exorbitant tap he had run up.

“He prepaid for it too. And that prepayment still hasn’t run out, you know what I’m saying? Forget whether he can even fight well enough to take the werewolf – would he move for the amount we could offer? He tosses gold coins around like nothing.”

The people fell silent for a moment. Gold coins – so he was wealthy?

Someone muttered under their breath,

“…Wonder where that barbarian got money like that.”

Auntie Ransia shouted,

“Stop the nonsense and think of a solution, you idiots!”

The murmuring resumed. Until the one who had muttered spoke up again,

“…Gold coins. Wouldn’t that be enough to strike a compromise – whether seeking the lord’s aid or hiring city mercenaries…”

The murmuring subsided.

Auntie Ransia looked around at the villagers’ expressions in disbelief.

“What ridiculous idea are you idiots entertaining now?”

“…Not a ridiculous idea…just, saying it outright would be disrespectful to the villagers…”

Cleechee shouted,

“No, who’s been muttering this whole time? If you have something to say, come out and say it properly instead of whispering behind our backs!”

Finally the muttering voice fell silent. The priest Iznikee, who had been quietly listening, spoke up.

“Damnit, you lunatic. I heard every word you’ve been saying. I won’t say who you are here, but you come quietly to the church later.

I thought I had reformed all the villagers, yet you sprout such nonsense…If you don’t come, I’ll beat you senseless, so you’d better show up.

And to the rest of you villagers. Why don’t we just directly ask whether that Aynakian warrior will take the job or not? If he accepts, we prepare compensation. If not, then we consider other options, is that not so? So let’s not waste time bickering and quickly resolve this. We need to hold funerals for the deceased too.”

Faina felt grateful to Priest Iznikee. And to Epol, his deity. For reminding the villagers about the funerals.

“…You’re right, whether this warrior will take the job or not, we should simply ask him. I can go inquire. I’ll try my best to persuade him, so everyone gather again tomorrow.”

When Cleechee volunteered, the villagers nodded. He and Auntie Ransia headed straight for the inn, while the others dispersed towards their homes in groups.

Faina pondered what to do before deciding to go to the inn herself. She wanted to see this warrior.

* * *

Valian drank down some honeywine.

The fiery liquid burned down his throat to warm his stomach. A slight buzz came over him before quickly sobering back to full clarity. Damn nuisance. With his high endurance, even copious alcohol was rapidly metabolized, rendering this solitary drinking ultimately meaningless.

“Another bottle.”

Yet Valian wished to continue the meaningless act, so he ordered another bottle of honey wine and drained his already filled cup.

Though perfectly lucid in his mind, to others he likely appeared quite the opposite. His table was littered with empty bottles rolling about, and the sausages meant as side dishes lay sloppily plated, partially consumed. A powerful boozy smell hung around him.

Cleechee worried whether he could properly converse with Valian in this state. But he addressed him nonetheless.

“Ahem, good day. You’re Valian, correct? Do you remember me?”

Valian looked at Cleechee.

“…The blacksmith?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Cleechee smiled, relieved Valian at least recognized him – his mind seemed decently intact after all.

“What business do you have?”

“Nothing much, I just came to discuss a job.”

It was then that Carina brought another bottle of honeywine and set it on the table. Valian immediately uncorked it and filled his cup, downing it in one go as soon as it was poured. Cleechee watched in amazement – the honeywine of this Black Tree Village was quite potent thanks to Auntie Ransia’s skilled brewing and Beekeeper Jack’s premium honey.

In any case, it was a drink Cleechee himself couldn’t have more than three cups of at once. Yet Valian gulped it like water.

“What job?”

“…Ah, forgive me, but let me first ask about your origins. You’re from Aynakia, correct?”

Valian stared at Cleechee for a moment, wondering why he suddenly asked about his birthplace. Was it to dismiss him as a backwater barbarian?

“Yeah.”

“I see. From my limited knowledge, Aynakian warriors are said to be peerless champions all. Descendants of the War God Valtazar, roaming endlessly for battle and hunting countless evil spirits and monsters.”

“…Yeah.”

Valtazar would be furious – he never had a cowardly descendant like you.

Cleechee nodded solemnly.

“Then, have you ever hunted a werewolf before?”

Valian shook his head.

“No.”

“I see…”

“But I could handle it.”

Cleechee’s eyes brightened.

“Really? You think you could genuinely defeat one?”

“Is this recent village uproar because of that werewolf?”

“Yes. Wolves have been increasing alarmingly in the forest lately, brazenly attacking people. We’ve had five victims so far, their bodies were never properly found. The whole village is terrified and suffering.”

Valian scratched his chin thoughtfully.

“What about the lord? What is the lord doing?”

Cleechee sighed heavily.

“The Count is a cruel man. He already extracts excessive taxes beyond the king’s decree by any means possible. To request his aid, who knows what outrageous demands he would make that we could not afford. No, it’s doubtful from the start whether his soldiers could even resolve this.”

An untrustworthy lord, huh. Though these medieval nobles were all the same.

Cleechee continued,

“Valian, we fear how long it would take to go to the city for mercenary help, and how many more may fall in that time. So please, I implore you, deal with this wretched werewolf.”

Valian silently refilled his cup from the bottle. He quaffed the potent honeywine in one gulp as before, feeling the familiar fleeting metabolization process in his stomach that he had grown accustomed to these past two weeks.

“…The appeal here isn’t about honor, it’s what you can offer me in payment.”

Auntie Ransia, who had been standing arms crossed listening this whole time, frowned disapprovingly.

“What an idiotic thing to say when lives are at stake.”

Valian looked at her.

“You want me to risk my life for free?”

Ransia clamped her mouth shut for a moment before reaching into her apron and slamming a coin purse onto the table.

“Will this do? We’ll see just how capable you are. Kill the werewolf and any remaining wolves, bring proof, and I’ll add more on top of this.”

“This is an advance payment?”

“Yes!”

Valian slid over one of the gold coins from Noife that he had recouped with a fingertip.

“Hm. Did I really pay out this many?”

“Don’t worry! I’ll sell this whole inn if I have to in order to pay you more!”

Valian chuckled. Partly at the middle-aged woman’s feisty assertiveness, but also imagining the experience such an untried monster hunt could yield.

The werewolf was a monster featured in advertisements for the Armenia RPG. At that level, wouldn’t it give huge experience? It was a named enemy, after all.

Auntie Ransia eyed Valian with a slightly anxious look as he simply smiled without responding. Then finally, Faina, who had been silently observing from the back, spoke up.

“Um, warrior. If you do take the job, I’d like to add a personal request.”

The abrupt statement caught Cleechee off guard.

“Eh? Faina, this one hasn’t even agreed to the job yet, and you’re already adding conditions like that…”

“Speak.”

Valian cut Cleechee off, intrigued to hear what additional request this was about. He planned to take the job regardless.

Faina looked Valian straight in the eye, her own eyes brimming with tears.

“That beast killed Kun. The werewolf, I mean. So I want it to die in torment. To experience the same terror and agony that Kun must have felt. Whether it can speak our language or not, I want you to torture it until it’s begging for mercy. And sever its ankles.”

“Its ankles? Why?”

“The only thing of Kun’s that was returned to me was one shoe. If that monster has a family, I’d like to mail the feet to them.”

Valian laughed again. Though her eyes welled up, Faina did not break down in tears.

“A monster driven to fear itself. That could be fun. I’ll give it my best effort. Blacksmith?”

“Yes?”

“Inform the villagers I’m taking the job. As for payment, let’s call this two weeks’ lodging paid.”

Valian flipped the gold coin he held before pocketing it.

“Ah, thank you Valian. Really, thank you so much.”

“Save your thanks until after I bring you that bastard’s severed head.”

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