Outcasts

Detect Poison

After casting the spell on the table full of food and confirming that there was nothing wrong with it, Raymond finally began eating without restraint.

It had to be said that as a coastal city near the tropics, Calimport's seafood was unquestionably among the finest in Faerun.

Whether it was oysters as large as an adult's palm, roasted with minced garlic, ginger, and spices, or Spanish mackerel with tender, springy, fresh flesh, everything tasted exceptionally good.

Paired with a rich peppered lamb soup, anyone who had tried it could not help giving it a thumbs-up.

Moreover, the food at Happy Time Inn generally came in generous portions.

The plates were roughly thirty centimeters long and ten centimeters wide.

Food was piled densely atop them, forming little mountain-like peaks.

The bowls, meanwhile, were typical oversized soup bowls.

A hearty bowl of meat soup along with two large pieces of bread would probably leave even a strong adult man half full.

Most importantly, the prices were not expensive.

Even a heaping plate of carefully grilled oysters seasoned with spices cost only one silver coin.

In other words, nearly half of the gold coin Raymond had thrown to the innkeeper earlier should have counted as an extra tip.

The price of food made it easy to see that the lives of Muggles and spellcasters were like two entirely different worlds.

To the former, a gold coin often meant being able to keep themselves and their families fed and live carefree for a month.

But to the latter, that same gold coin could at most buy one or two parchment scrolls capable of bearing magical power, or a dozen empty bottles for potions.

That intense sense of disconnect and the strange financial system fascinated Raymond.

Sometimes, he even let his imagination run wild.

He imagined Legendary Spellcasters, dragons, holding fortunes of millions, tens of millions, or even hundreds of millions of gold coins, suddenly taking all their money and buying up some daily necessity, such as grain, salt, or steel.

Then, by forcibly raising prices through monopoly, how terrifyingly would they devastate the markets and trade of the world's nations and city-states?

But unfortunately, such a thing would never happen.

For dragons, gathering treasure was never about spending it, but about satisfying their inborn Greed and hoarding obsession.

Likewise, high-level and even legendary spellcasters would not be bored enough to do something like that.

Most of their vast wealth existed in the form of magic items, scrolls, gemstones, potions, Oddities, books, spellcasting materials, and so on.

This world is mysterious and wonderful. My body is only around ten years old, so there's no need to rush. I'll have plenty of time to explore it bit by bit in the future.

Raymond murmured in a voice only he could hear, while an unusual light flickered in his eyes.

Only after the urge to explore the unknown and seek adventure within him had subsided did he casually toss an empty oyster shell onto the table.

Seeing that four-fifths of the food and meat soup still remained, the soldier hurriedly swallowed the food in his mouth, raised his head, and asked in surprise, "Master, you're full already?"

"Mm, more or less. Another one of my teeth has become loose recently. It looks like it will fall out soon, so I haven't had much of an appetite."

Raymond sighed helplessly and unconsciously touched his left cheek.

As everyone knew, humans replaced their baby teeth with permanent teeth between the ages of six and twelve.

His body was currently in precisely that stage.

And it would continue for the next year or two, until the last baby tooth had fallen out.

It was an exceptionally Tormenting process.

Especially for someone with an adult soul.

Raymond simply did not dare imagine whether losing his front teeth and speaking with a lisp would affect his ability to chant spells.

Or whether he would directly gain a debuff that increased his chance of spellcasting failure.

Just as the soldier was about to say something else, he suddenly noticed that a group of filthy children in ragged clothes, barefoot and squatting outside, had appeared at the entrance to the inn at some point.

They were all terribly thin. The oldest looked around fifteen or sixteen, while the youngest might not even have been ten.

Every one of them stared with yearning eyes at the leftover food and meat soup on the table, swallowing hard again and again.

"Dammit! Who let you little brats come near the inn? And you're making those disgusting faces at our honored guests! Get out! Get out now! Don't let us see you again!"

A waiter noticed the children and immediately put on a ferocious expression, waving the stick in his hand as he tried to drive them away.

Not only did none of the inn's patrons stand up to stop him, they instead looked as though they were ready to enjoy the show.

Some even shouted loudly for the waiter to hit them harder, preferably until blood was drawn.

Raymond instinctively frowned at such blatant bullying of the weak.

If he were still in the Floating City Tower, where he could barely protect himself, he naturally would not have stepped forward to meddle in someone else's affairs.

But now that he had regained his freedom, the education he had received and the values he had been forced to abandon temporarily were beginning to return once more.

The soldier keenly noticed this and immediately asked in a low voice, "Do you need me to stop it?"

"Go."

After a brief moment of thought, Raymond quickly nodded.

Without another word, the soldier rose to his feet and walked toward the entrance, grabbing the employee who was about to strike someone.

The latter had originally intended to turn around and give this blind, meddlesome bastard a blow with his stick, but after seeing who it was, he immediately stopped all movement and forced out an awkward smile. "Guard sir, why is it you?"

"Master does not wish to see those poor children beaten," the soldier replied bluntly.

"Is that Lord Soros's wish? He truly is a kindhearted man. But you're outsiders, so you don't know Calimport's situation. They aren't ordinary children. They're Outcasts," the waiter explained patiently.

"Outcasts?" A confused expression appeared on the soldier's face.

Taken literally, it should mean people who had been abandoned or cast aside.

But Calimshan was a nation that recognized slaves as their masters' private property.

How could it possibly abandon any human capable of labor, even if they were merely a group of children who had not yet grown up?

The waiter nodded solemnly. "That's right! Outcasts!

They may look harmless, but in truth, they are all infected with Lycanthropy.

Once they are enraged and lose their minds, or when the moon is full, they immediately fall into a frenzied state.

Anyone bitten by them who does not receive treatment in time will also become infected.

Outcasts can only hide in the sewers on ordinary days, surviving by scavenging scraps and leftovers.

These underage little ones probably came up here because fighting broke out in the sewers.

Their Horde or clan was taken over by other Lycanthropes, leaving them with no choice but to come to the surface to find something to eat.

In Calimport, no one is willing to let someone infected with Lycanthropy come near them.

Because you never know when they might suddenly go mad and take a vicious bite out of you.

The Thieves' Guild occasionally hires Outcasts, but it never allows them near the streets it controls, much less permits them to spread Lycanthropy within its territory."

After hearing this, the soldier looked at the children again with an obvious trace of wariness.

Although he personally believed that even if these skin-and-bones little ones transformed into lycanthropic forms such as Werewolves or Skaven, he could easily kill them with his shortsword.

But Raymond's safety always came first.

He did not want any potential danger approaching his master.