Outside the City

Roy did the math. In a big city like Edersberg, inns were not for ordinary people. Daily lodging and meals cost around 3 Crowns and 40 Copper Coins. If Letho was gone for a month and a half, the expenses would exceed a hundred Crowns. The money he carried was barely enough.

That did not even include other expenses, such as learning Common Script... He planned to find somewhere to study during this time. He could not remain illiterate forever; it was far too inconvenient. Knowledge and books were expensive, especially in a large city like Edersberg. Learning even a little literacy would probably cost a fortune, wouldn't it?

Roy checked out of the costly inn room and laid out his plans one by one in his mind.

First, he needed to rent a cheap place, preferably for no more than one Crown a day. There also needed to be a sufficiently spacious and secluded area nearby for him to maintain his daily training.

He did not intend to ask the dwarven wine merchant for help. After all, he had just refused the man's second request. Doing so would make him seem far too useless.

Second, he needed to find a short-term job that could earn him money. He could not keep spending without bringing anything in; he had to prepare for a "long battle."

Lastly, he had to find a reliable teacher to learn Common Script from and keep the tuition as low as possible.

That entire afternoon, Roy asked five households in the Central District about renting rooms. Most landlords saw that he was an outsider and took advantage of his young age, demanding outrageous prices. Even the cheapest asked for more than one Crown a day, without food included...

Roy realized it was unrealistic to find a reasonably priced room inside the city. He headed straight out through Edersberg's gates and asked around among the surrounding households. To his surprise, before sunset, he really did find a suitable place.

Behind Edersberg's southern gate.

A thin man in his thirties, with short stubble on his chin, dressed all in white and wearing a soft white cap, led Roy across a golden wheat field toward a huge watermill and several houses.

He was Henk, the owner of the watermill.

At that moment, the setting sun draped the four houses near the mill in golden light. The scents carried by wheat stalks and the breeze spread across the grass and fallen leaves of late autumn.

Amid the tinkling flow of water, the waterwheel slowly turned. The riverside mill resembled a living oil painting, breathtakingly beautiful.

Roy followed the Miller, taking in the leisurely pastoral scenery around them. Then his gaze suddenly froze on the livestock pen not far to the right of the mill. A young girl in a white apron, her brown hair tied behind her head, stood with her back to them, bent over. She held a dustpan in one hand and scattered chaff with the other to feed the chickens.

She looked very petite.

But that was not what caught Roy's attention. What mattered was the shocking hump protruding high from the girl's back.

She was a hunchback.

The Miller noticed his gaze and said with an apologetic smile, "Little brother, my daughter suffers from a serious illness and looks rather ugly. Did she scare you? I'll go chase her away right now!" His daughter was truly frightening, and no one dared rent the Miller's vacant room. Lowering the price had not helped. Today, he had finally gotten a gullible customer, a polite half-grown boy at that. Henk did not want to miss out on this income.

"No." Roy shook his head. He was not the sort of cruel person who mocked others' shortcomings. "I don't mind. Just show me the room."

As he spoke, the girl by the chicken coop heard the commotion, turned to glance their way, then ran into the nearby barn to hide. Her running posture was strange. One leg was longer than the other, her shoulders were uneven, and her body swayed from side to side as she moved.

She reminded him of a lame old woman in her seventies or eighties.

The room rented out by the Miller's family was simple and plain. Aside from a straw mat and a blanket, it contained nothing. The floor, at least, had been cleaned well. Compared to the inn suite with its velvet quilt, fine furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, and dressing mirror, it was far more rudimentary.

But Roy had spent time camping in the wilderness with the Witcher and had never been picky about where he slept.

Ever since coming to this world, he had lowered his demands for living conditions to the absolute minimum. Fortunately, the original owner of this body had not been pampered or fussy, allowing him to adapt quickly to this hard life.

Only the living conditions of nobles and sorcerers could compare to those of his former world.

What pleased him most was the spacious clearing beside the pond near the watermill, visible beyond the weathered wooden window. It was perfectly suitable for practicing crossbow shooting.

Dinner was also provided for free. Roy simply paid the full month's rent in one go: 15 Crowns, or 50 Copper Coins a day.

After night fell, Roy met the Miller's family at the dinner table. Besides the thin Henk, another woman sat beside him. Her face was swollen, she wore a gaudy long dress, and her lips were painted blood-red.

"Roy, let me introduce you. This is my wife, Una... She usually stays at the mill to help out as well."

The woman smiled broadly. "No wonder I heard magpies chirping early this morning. A distinguished guest was coming! Little brother, you truly have a good eye. I guarantee there isn't another house nearby as cheap and clean as ours. Stay here without worry; you'll definitely be satisfied."

As she spoke, the woman occasionally covered her mouth and let out a hoarse, coquettish laugh. The fat beneath her long dress rippled like waves, and Roy could not help glancing at the Miller.

With such a "lovely wife," no wonder the Miller was so thin.

"By the way, little brother, your face is unfamiliar, and your accent does not sound local. Where is your home? What important business brings you here?" Mana picked up a golden-brown roasted pork knuckle from the platter, then greedily licked the grease from her fingers.

"I'm from a small village in Xiabosada. A relative introduced me to work here and said he would show me the world. Who knew that once I entered the city, he would disappear without a trace?" Roy sighed pointedly, then unceremoniously picked up another pork knuckle and began devouring it.

"Oh my, what a heartless relative!" The fat woman wiped her greasy mouth with a napkin, a flash of pain passing through the slits of her eyes. "But don't worry, little brother. Edersberg is a big city. As long as you are willing to work hard, there are plenty of job opportunities. I'm sure you'll soon find something."

"Do either of you have any good recommendations?" Roy's gaze moved between the Miller and his wife.

In the dim firelight of the hearth, Henk nodded and swayed as though seriously considering it. "The Butcher's family across the way... no, he would never give a profitable job to an outsider. Executioner's apprentice? No, too unlucky. It would bring bad luck to the whole mill..."

"Little brother, for your first job in a big city, don't set your sights too high..." the fat woman chimed in. "Henk was around your age when he ran away from home to work here. He struggled for ten years before saving enough money to rent this mill. At first, he did every kind of dirty, exhausting work... He carried slop and guarded vegetable stalls. I think you... could try the Central District market. There are lots of jobs short on workers there. But I must warn you, be sure to watch out for certain people."

Miller Henk took over. "Mana is right. If you run into those people handing out Revolutionary Army notices, stay far away and never listen to their nonsense. Why rebel when you could do anything else? Sooner or later, they'll rebel their own heads right off."

"Aren't they trying to lower taxes on farmers?" Roy quietly polished off the entire pork knuckle, then licked his lips, still wanting more. The Miller family's dinner really was delicious—rich without being greasy, with just a little honey. Their roasting was no worse than Letho's, though there was far too little of it. It was probably only this lavish on the first day.

"You don't know about that. Baron Tavik already compromised once... If you ask me, the Revolutionary Army should have known when to stop. But their leader disappeared for no reason, and they insist on blaming the Baron, threatening him to provide an explanation. Isn't that just unreasonable?"

Roy knew perfectly well that the Revolutionary Army's leader was still soaking in the dwarven wine merchant's barrel. The Baron really was innocent.

"Little brother," Henk continued, "besides the Revolutionary Army, you must also watch out for the Sparrow Gang in Edersberg. That bunch is full of bad intentions. They cheat, swindle, and commit every evil imaginable. Stay away from the Lower City. That is the Sparrow Gang's territory, and they especially like targeting outsiders... Boys your age, who look easy to bully and are good-looking besides, need to be especially careful." The Miller suddenly gave a strange smile. "Some nobles like that sort of thing."

"Thank you for the warning." Roy nodded and filled another bowl with thick potato soup. "By the way, Uncle Henk, was that girl I saw earlier your daughter? Why isn't she eating with us?"

The moment Roy finished speaking, the warm atmosphere at the table froze.

The fat woman, who had been gnawing meat with grease all over her mouth, suddenly choked. Her face reddened as she patted her chest, while Henk set down his fork.

"Little brother, calling her over would spoil everyone's appetite. Just eat in peace. She has somewhere else to go."

"Hmph!" The fat woman finally caught her breath, and her plump face darkened. "Don't mention that ugly girl again. How we treat her is Henk's and my family business. It is none of your concern." She made no effort to hide the disgust and loathing in her voice. "Giving her food and a place to live is already generous. Don't even think about letting her sit at the table."

"Then what is her name?"

"That ugly freak. Just call her Toya."

After dinner, Roy saw a thin figure sitting on the barn's threshold in the cold wind at the corner of the mill, holding a plate and eating dinner.

This time, he finally saw what she looked like. The firelight hanging on the wall illuminated a small, round face. Her features were delicate, with fine brows, cherry lips, and a faint blush on her cheeks. Judging by her face alone, she was only thirteen or fourteen, at an age as tender as a flower.

The little girl was extremely sensitive. Roy had only stopped to look for two seconds before she noticed him again and fled like a startled little animal.

Am I a devil? Am I really that scary?

Roy grumbled inwardly. When he walked over to take a look, he found that compared to the rich dinner in the sitting room, the food left on the girl's plate was plain and monotonous—a heap of thin, yellowish-brown mashed potatoes.

He could not understand why the Miller's family treated their own daughter so harshly. Was it just because her body was deformed and she was unpleasant to look at?

But Roy had only just arrived, so it was not appropriate for him to interfere directly in someone else's family affairs. He could only wait until he knew them a little better before deciding what to do.

Under the bright moonlight, a lean yet upright figure with black hair and black eyes knelt on one knee in the clearing by the pond. Both hands held a hand crossbow aimed at a crooked tree fifty paces away.

His body was straight, his shoulders level. His left knee was bent, his entire left foot planted on the ground, while his right knee and the ball of his right foot touched the ground, forming a stable triangular support with his left leg.

His butt rested lightly on his right heel. The elbow of his left arm, which supported the crossbow, rested on his left knee.

While aiming, Roy took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. At the moment his exhalation grew heavier, his right index finger instantly pulled the trigger.

"Whoosh—" The Crossbow Bolt struck the target dead center.

Then, using both hands and feet, he performed a dazzling series of movements. Within four seconds, he drew the string and loaded a bolt. Roy sprinted several steps to the side, steadied himself once more, then switched to a standing firing stance and shot at the target.

He continued sprinting, stopping abruptly, changing position and firing stance, retrieving bolts, and shooting in turns. After firing more than five hundred shots, three hours had quietly passed. His muscles aching and his breath ragged, Roy ended the dull and tedious crossbow training.

The night wind was as cold as a blade, but his heart burned hot.

You have unlocked a new skill:

Unnamed LV1: After the Witcher master's careful guidance and thousands of shots, you have gained a preliminary grasp of ranged weapons such as hand crossbows and crossbows. When using weapons of the same type, your shooting accuracy, effective range, power, and penetration will receive a 5% bonus.

You can actively activate this ability to double the shooting bonus, but stamina consumption will also double and your movement speed will be halved. This state lasts at least 30 seconds.

Roy let out a long breath, and a smile appeared on his sweat-beaded face. All that long, grueling training had finally unlocked a weapon skill.

"Unnamed" had become "Crossbow Mastery."

The penetration and damage bonuses were only 5%, but with the LV2 Slaughter skill, the bonus would become 10%. Since he had previously killed three peasant soldiers, humans had entered the Slaughter skill's hunting range, greatly increasing the skill's usefulness. If he activated the skill as well, its power would be considerable.

Roy planned to get himself a proper crossbow when he had the chance. Gabriel, the miniature crossbow, was starting to feel inadequate.