Bear School Astartes

Chapter 15: 15. Village Elder

Mentos directly bypassed a series of restrictions like elementary, middle, and high school, opening a university-level restriction for Lann.

Sounds impressive.

But at this stage, neither Lann nor Mentos feels it’s of any use.

It’s just a restriction after all, and it’s not a direct pass. The computing power and operational permissions of the intelligent brain are still locked at the elementary level of the Human Union.

Maybe in the future, the ”university-level course completion” might be better?

Lann decided not to think about these for the time being.

”So, you are the elder of Auridon’s village, Allen?”

In the village tavern where a murder had taken place, Lann patted the rainwater off his head and tilted his head to inquire.

Even though the outside was covered in heavy rain and dark clouds, the dimly lit room inside had only a single candle for illumination, barely lighting one side of the old man’s body.

Yet Lann’s beastly eyes, lowered as they were, still sharply captured numerous details.

A typical northern farmer.

His face showed the numbness of fatigue, full of wrinkles. Thick calluses coated his fingers, and his body had developed slight deformities from long and heavy labor, with one shoulder higher than the other.

Even as the village elder, his economic standing only allowed him to wear a pair of pointy soft leather boots more than the average villager, with a pipe tucked in his mouth.

”That’s me. Bill, you’re running a tavern! Don’t just stand there, get the guest a glass of water.”

It was obvious the old man didn’t really want to talk to Lann.

But looking at the roaring bear head necklace on the young man’s neck, he pursed his lips and still had to sit at the same table with the young man.

Even sitting on the bench, only half of his butt was actually seated, as if ready to run away at any moment.

”Sorry, Demon Hunter. But... but we haven’t issued any commission recently. I don’t know why you’re here?”

There were still a few villagers in the tavern, but immediately after Lann entered, people quickly distanced themselves from the young man, watching him with guarded and aloof eyes.

As if guarding against a potential disease source.

The barkeep named ”Bill”, after placing down the water, began compulsively wiping his hands.

Lann could feel the people’s disgust and fear, something he had seen many times.

Even though he had only been in this world for a short time, he clearly understood the previously abstract concept of ”racial hatred” from his past life and how pathological it was in this world.

Vaguely, Lann felt that this atmosphere was deliberately stirred up by someone.

Although he hadn’t read the local history books, the education he had received provided plenty of comparable cases.

Thus, Lann felt even more that the villagers in front of him were both pitiable and detestable.

Detestable in how easily swayed they were.

Pitiable that they might live a whole life without wisdom, never realizing they were ”being swayed”.

”Of course, you didn’t issue any commission, and I didn’t come here because of one either.”

Lann spoke with a calm demeanor, deliberately avoiding direct eye contact with his cat-like eyes to make people feel at ease.

His mind raced with the insights from the intelligent brain but because of this, it could easily stray. He was now working hard to gather his thoughts, and on the surface, ordinary people would feel no shift in his emotions.

”Then you...?”

Elder Allen hesitated to ask, the cheap alcohol smell from his breath made Lann’s nostrils twitch.

”Some time ago, a demon hunter wearing the same necklace as mine killed two people here, right?”

The same calm tone suddenly elicited a strong reaction in the tavern.

A commotion erupted among the people not far away, eyes already filled with fear and hostility now had a hint of ferocity.

”Is he here to cause trouble? Want us to keep quiet to the lord?!”

”We should be seeking revenge! It’s that mutant bastard who killed two people here!”

”He’s alone, we can all jump him and throw him in the lake!”

The villagers’ whispered exchanges were completely heard by Lann, but his expression remained calm.

By now, Elder Allen had completely moved off the bench, looking ready to run at any moment.

But being a village elder, he had a few more brains than the average villager.

”Demon Hunter, we can’t interfere with Viserad’s warrant, there’s no point in coming here.”

The old man made a last-ditch effort to avoid bloodshed.

Not because he loved peace or valued life. But because in these times, it’s hard for any village to cope with injuries or deaths among its young labor force.

The fragility of the smallholder economy.

With adrenaline pumping, the villagers began to breathe heavily, starting to look for weapons under the guise of secrecy.

Lann also didn’t want to see bloodshed occur, so he looked up for the first time after entering the room, glancing at the increasingly agitated crowd.

And then, like being doused with cold water, the fervent villagers suddenly grew still.

In the dim light, the demon hunter’s cat eyes glowed!

This world has magic, but it is rare. Thus, it remains mysterious and inscrutable, beyond the grasp of a bunch of farmers.

A group of medieval peasants had suddenly seen a man with glowing cat eyes.

The shock and awe left them speechless for a moment.

”The demon hunter who killed here is already dead, and I didn’t come to clear up his mess either.”

Lann spoke to the village elder in a calm to cold tone.

He knew when to use his tone to maintain others’ respect, and the playful and relaxed demeanor he had when talking to Mentos left no trace now.

”The Supreme Grandmaster of the Bear School heard about Bordeaux, the killer’s atrocities here, and also heard of the local lord’s attention. So, the sacred tradition within the demon hunters was invoked, sending me to offer some compensation.”

This was a lie.

Heinkawei Castle doesn’t even have a ghost left, let alone a Bear School Supreme Grandmaster?

But Lann felt no connection to his school or his ”demon hunter” identity. So, waving this flag to deceive ignorant villagers caused him no psychological burden.

Old Allen hesitated before sitting back down.

”This... thank you very much. Bill! What are you dazing out for? This is a tavern! I told you to get a drink, and you really just brought a water?! Bring something with flavor!”

Scolding the village barkeep to vent his fear, Old Allen became reserved again facing Lann.

”May I have your name?”

The young man paused imperceptibly at the question.

But then smoothly and naturally gave his answer: ”Lann of Sintra.”

Bordeaux’s traveling title was Bordeaux of Sintra.

”Alright, Mr. Lann. But, but I’ve never heard of a mutant... demon hunter doing such a thing?”

The young man’s response was cold and irritated.

”Didn’t you hear me? ’The local lord’s attention,’ Viserad is the lord of Velen. To have the right to work legally on this land in the future, we must consider his emotions. Do you think we compensate just for killing people anywhere?”

Compared to the previous conversation, Lann’s tone was harsher, but Old Allen immediately put down most of his guard.

The villagers behind him did the same.

Because this aligned with their worldview.

Doing good equals a loss, and people at a loss should be resentful.

If someone was forced into a losing arrangement, they should speak roughly, that’s normal.

The barkeep, who had been reluctantly and slowly pouring his homemade wine into a glass, was now rushing towards Lann with a full cup in the blink of an eye.

”Oh, is that so?! May Meretelli bless you, Demon Hunter Master. We’re just generations of fishers with no insight, don’t take what happened just now to heart.”

”Bill! You moron! Don’t trick the guest with cheap horse piss! Bring out your Royal Vizima!”

Turning back, Old Allen’s tone suddenly became close and diligent.

”The compensation you mentioned, how much Oren?”

Allen’s old face was instantly beaming with a smile towards Lann, pipe in mouth, eyes scanning Lann up and down, hoping to spot a bulging purse, while his hands rubbed together like a fly.

But Lann simply and smoothly gave his reply: ”Lann of Sintra.”

”...”

And at that moment, in Lann’s mind, Mentos realized that even though Lann was lying, he might still gain something from this fake task!

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