Faywen

"What'll it be today? Beef brisket with basil?" Beside the roast meat stall, a red-haired, big-nosed young man in his twenties swiftly brushed spices onto the skewers on the grill. The aroma of meat drifted far on the wind, making the nearby boy twitch his nose.

"I'll take what you recommend. Emil, remember to add extra chili. This damned weather is getting colder and colder." Roy brushed feathers from himself in the cold wind, his cheeks red from the chill, and glanced at the gloomy, overcast sky.

In the blink of an eye, three days had passed. November 1st, the New Year recorded in the Elven Calendar, was not far off.

Over these three days, Roy had completely adjusted to working at the market. The poultry stall brought him roughly 30 Experience Points each day, and his work at the herbal shop had gone smoothly as well. He had also grown familiar with Tross, Emil the roast meat seller, and old Rul from the poultry stall. His days had become exceptionally routine. Other than his nightly training, he was just an ordinary boy making his way in a big city. It was as if all traces of being a Witcher had suddenly vanished from his life.

"Here, your meat's ready." Emil handed over a skewer as long as his forearm, sizzling with grease. "You're practically a regular now, so I gave you a little extra."

Holding the skewer, Roy went to a secluded, deserted corner and stored it in his inventory. The meat was not for himself, but for someone else. That evening, just as he was about to leave the market and return to the Mill, Tross from the herbal shop called out to him.

"Um... Roy, a laundress named Cuilin ordered a packet of honeysuckle. Could you deliver it for me?" Tross said casually. "She lives at number ** in the Lower City. I have to watch the shop, so I can't go."

Tross had often asked him to run errands lately. But this was the first time he had asked him to deliver something to the Lower City. Roy recalled the Sparrow Gang and Henk's warning. Still, several days had already passed. He could not be that unlucky, could he?

"Sure."

Roy crossed the market in the Central District and headed east toward the slums. The sky was dim and heavy, vast banks of dark clouds gathering at the distant horizon and hiding the usual orange sunset.

Beyond a narrow, murky, foul-smelling ditch stretched a boundless expanse of low shanties, forming the slum where filth bred.

A few steps into the slums, Roy frowned and covered his nose. Most of the ramshackle houses ran together in one continuous stretch. Sewage overflowed from the drains and fouled the ground, while household waste lay piled in chaotic heaps at the mouths of dark, cramped alleys.

The people brushing past him wore cheap clothes, their faces sallow and their expressions tense. When the cold wind blew, a trace of bewilderment flickered over their flushed cheeks. Some of the men were still young, yet heavy physical labor had already begun to warp their backs.

The stench of fish mingled with the odors of human and animal waste, creating an indescribable reek.

Compared to the clean and orderly wealthy district, this place was the difference between hell and heaven. Dirty and chaotic did not begin to describe it. It was worse even than Kaye Village.

Yet this was the norm of the era.

Suppressing the urge to turn around and leave, Roy reached his destination and handed the herbs to the gaunt woman scrubbing bed sheets in the yard outside her house.

But on his way back, a warning suddenly rose in his heart. A prickling sensation crept up his back. Roy deliberately walked to a corner and covertly glanced back in the direction he had come from through the edge of his vision.

Just as expected, two gaudily dressed, thuggish-looking men were trailing far behind him.

"What do these two want? Why are they following me?" Roy remembered Henk the Miller's warning.

"My first time in the Lower City, and I'm already this unlucky?" Roy took a deep breath and continued forward as though nothing was wrong.

The two stalkers had no idea what their seemingly harmless target was carrying on him.

A scene unfolded on the filthy, disorderly street. A boy hurried ahead with his head lowered, while two grim-faced men lurked behind him, following close on his heels.

On the second floor of a dilapidated house by the road, residents gathering laundry from a balcony noticed something amiss, but merely propped up their chins and watched as if enjoying a show. Other residents hurried past, glanced in their direction, and quickened their pace, as though they were not walking fast enough already.

No one meddled in other people's business.

Roy quietly focused his attention on the concealed hand crossbow, then gauged the remaining space in his inventory before suddenly accelerating and dashing ahead.

"Hey, little brother, come over here!" A sudden voice interrupted his plan. Roy looked up to see a beautiful young woman waving at him from not far ahead.

Was she calling me?

He looked back at the two men following him and hesitated for a moment. Forget it. There are too many eyes around. It'll be troublesome if I make too big a scene.

He approached the woman, and a faint fragrance drifted toward him. His vision went dark for a moment as his left arm was instantly wrapped in warm, soft embrace. "Little brother, don't be afraid. With me here, those two bastards won't dare do anything to you!"

The woman winked at him. Sure enough, as she spoke, the two men stopped in their tracks. One of them, whose neck was covered in tattoos, spat a thick gob of phlegm at them.

"Kid, you got lucky!"

Rapid footsteps sounded as the two men cursed under their breaths and left.

"Mm, thank you for helping." Roy's expression was stiff. The soft sensation against his arm made him rather uncomfortable.

"Sorry, did I hurt you?" The woman released his arm and affectionately ruffled Roy's hair. She was about five feet eight inches tall, around twenty-four or twenty-five years old. Her emerald-green top and pleated skirt that ended high above her thighs perfectly emphasized her lovely curves.

Her wine-red hair was tied behind her head, and a silver pendant hung from her slender neck. Beneath her pleated skirt were straight, fair legs, while a belt cinched her waist to a delicate narrowness. Most captivating of all were her moist eyes and slightly full red lips, which lent her face a hint of seductive charm.

When that radiant face broke into a brilliant smile, it seemed as though the heavy clouds filling the sky were scattered in an instant.

"My name is Faywen. And you, little brother? Why did you come to the Lower City alone? Didn't anyone tell you this place is dangerous? Those Sparrow Gang scum will do any rotten thing for money."

The woman's voice was gentle, and she was remarkably kind.

Caught by the light in her bright eyes, Roy was briefly dazed. But this body had not yet fully matured, and he soon recovered, giving her a grateful smile. "Sister Faywen, just call me Roy. I was delivering a packet of herbs for someone. I didn't expect to be so unlucky that I'd run into something like this my first time here."

"Oh, I thought those two bastards had been waiting specifically for you..." Faywen murmured softly. "Where are you going now?"

"Back to the herbal shop in the market."

"I happen to be heading that way to buy some things. Let's go together..."

Once Roy was sure he could no longer sense any threat from the two thugs, he agreed.

As they walked side by side, Roy soon noticed that the skin on the woman's hands was far less delicate than that on her face. They were covered with chilblains, dead skin, and calluses.

"Sister Faywen, does that sort of thing happen often in the Lower City? Does nobody do anything about it?"

"The Revolutionary Army has been causing quite a stir lately. There's too much happening in the Central District and the wealthy district for anyone to handle, so the Lower City is basically left unattended. Be careful in the future. Never wander around here alone."

Roy asked with some concern, "You helped me just now. Won't those two bastards retaliate against you?"

At that, the woman suddenly stopped. A trace of gratification flashed through her beautiful eyes, and she looked at him as though he were a younger member of her own family. "Don't worry. They wouldn't dare do anything to me."

Roy was surprised. For some reason, she seemed to feel a degree of affection toward him.

The two chatted as they walked, and before long they reached the herbal shop. Faywen waved at Roy, urged him to hurry over, then turned and left with an easy grace.

Tross noticed Roy and the woman walking together. Surprise flickered in his eyes before his expression quickly returned to normal.

"Did you deliver it?"

"Yeah." Roy paused. "Uncle Tross, do you know Faywen? The woman from just now."

Tross raised his face. His already small eyes narrowed into slits, and his expression turned intoxicated, as though he were imagining something. "Faywen is a good girl." Holding his palms apart, he traced the curve of an hourglass in the air, then licked his dry lips. "Her figure beats ninety-nine percent of the women in this city, doesn't it?"

"She's warmhearted and kind too. Two suspicious guys followed me in the Lower City, and she helped me get out of it."

Understanding dawned in Tross's eyes. He said guiltily, "It's my fault. I should have warned you earlier. The Lower City has never been peaceful, especially lately."

"It's fine. Nothing serious happened." Roy continued, "Faywen didn't seem afraid of those little thugs at all. What's that about?"

A trace of admiration appeared on Tross's wrinkled old face. "At the northeastern corner of the Central District, right next to the Lower City, there's a three-story building called House of Cadell. It teaches the children of Edersberg's commoners to read and write for only a very modest fee, and it provides free lunches for the children. Faywen is one of the teachers there, and the locals adore her."

"No matter how many Sparrow Gang bastards there are, there aren't more of them than locals. Naturally, they don't dare provoke her."

Tross sighed again. "Kind people are usually unfortunate. Her poor mother often isn't right in the head, and she also has a drunkard father to support. To care for her family and help subsidize those poor students, she has a hard life..."

"How could such a filthy Lower City be home to a kindhearted beauty like her?" Tross looked as if he wanted to ease her burdens. Roy could not help finding it amusing. In their usual chats, the herbal shop owner had revealed that he had a happy family, complete with a wife and children.

"Uncle Tross, can I study at House of Cadell?" Roy asked, slightly tempted. He had been planning this for a while. Now that his work was stable, he could free up every afternoon.

"You're still young, so there shouldn't be a problem." Tross stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The tuition will be a little more expensive for you than for locals, but it'll definitely be cheaper than hiring a scribe or someone else."

Joy rose in Roy's heart. His planned work and lodging had both been perfectly settled, and now a path to learning Common Script lay before him. The process had gone almost entirely without setbacks. He only needed to proceed step by step and wait for the Witcher to return, then give him a surprise.