7 Chapter 7

'Civilization.' 

Konlan crouched in the upper branches of a tall oak. His large muscular figure that had grown by several inches after his most recent integration could not be hidden by the leaves unless he squatted down. 

From the excellent vantage point, his gaze could spread over the entire town. Chimneys puffing out thick clouds of blackish smoke, the voices of children playing in the streets and the smell of steel in the air. 

Konlan joyfully took in the scene. 

It had taken him four days of running, punctuated by a couple hours of sleep, to reach this small village on the edge of the forest. The village itself was small and unremarkable. It's population was less than a couple hundred. 

Tall wooden walls surrounded the village on all sides. Konlan's gaze lingered on several deep and long claw marks. 

His eyes narrowed, 'No wolf is that large and the height is too low to be from a nekker.' 

Konlan pushed his concerns to the back of his mind. 

The nature of the blue panel was invisibly pushing him to the central power vortex of this world. For the sake of growing stronger he had no other choice. 

Looking himself up and down Konlan frowned. Although he kept himself clean, bathing alongside deer and sparrow in rivers and springs. Over a week of arduous travel had torn his already heavily worn clothes into rags that hung loosely from his body. 

In the Witcher series, the attitudes of villagers and common people were shown to be highly xenophobic and easily manipulated. 

While the villagers could pose no threat to his safety, if they refused to trade with a suspicious outsider then he would have no way of obtaining new clothes or resources.

He was fed up of using skulls to hold his drinking water and eating nothing more than berries and bland roasted meat. With a bountiful supply of ingredients, fresh meat in particular, Konlan had tried his hand at cooking several times. He had succeeded only in creating foul looking and tasting brown stews. Without any knowledge of what plants were edible and what weren't, he had no choice but to rely on his powerful digestion and self-healing to test what was harmful or poisonous. 

Sometimes he found himself reminiscing basic human interactions from his life in the slums; replaying conversations in his head and imagining what he might say to the mighty butcher of Blavekin. 

Simply put, Konlan missed society. 

'There's no point waiting any longer. If these people refuse to trade I'll simply have to return at night and steal some clothing. Since hunting is the only form of currency I have right now, I'll leave behind a few rabbits in exchange.' 

Hopping down from the tree Konlan smoothed down his messy hair and stepped out from the coverage of the forests onto a dust track. 

The village of Ludwin was located in the east of the Temeria. It bordered a vast and unexplored forest that was rich in prey and monsters alike. 

The village was governed by a council of elders. These were men and women who had survived into their 70's; in a world frequently decimated by plague and famine, this was no easy feat. Under the leadership of these elders who held centuries of rich experience between them, Ludiwn was able to steadily develop into a place of local renown. 

Every year the elders invested hundreds of oren into maintaining and expanding the city wall. In this way Ludwin was able to easily repel any bold wild beasts that might've hungered for warm human flesh. 

Day or night two guards remained posted on the only entrance and exit to the village. These guards were talented warriors individually selected for their honor and bravery. The families of these guards enjoyed great respect and could fill their stomachs without worry. 

Some years ago a yellow eyed witcher had appeared on Ludwin's doorstep holding a contract for the slaying of a powerful monster. Other than the village elders who discussed the contract with the mutant monster-hunter, the guards were the only people to have seen an infamous Witcher. 

The story of the Witcher dragging a huge head that bled blood the color of ink through the streets, even though it had been told hundreds of times, still raised drunken cheers in the tavern without fail. 

There was one path into the village. The only other option was to scale the two meter high barbed wire walls that shielded it from every angle.

Two guards stood watching this path. Their eyes flicked lazily from the birds in the sky to a line of ants marching through the grass.

It was not fair to say that the two men did not take their job seriously. They were excellent warriors, born and raised in Ludwin and both of them had served and fought in the Temerian army. 

On the left stood Gullard and on the right stood Henry. These two men who would not hesitate to sacrifice themself for the safety of their families were currently engaged in a heated quarrel about the number of a cow's udders. 

"It's 5 you ignorant oaf!"

"You fucking idiot, it's 7, haven't you seen a cow? Maybe you're talking about that ugly wife of yours!" 

"Don't call my wife ugly you fucking bastard!" 

Gullard was about to retort when something in the distance caught his eye. His tone immediately became serious, "Henry, I see a person. He's carrying something, something large. Unsheathe your sword. If he approaches beyond the line we aim for the neck." 

Henry nodded solemnly. The metallic cry of a sword being drawn from its sheath thrummed through the air. 

The figure in the distance gradually became more clear as the distance between him and the village gates decreased. 

When he was close enough for the load on his shoulder to be seen, the two men exchanged a wary look. 

"That's a big fucking boar." Gullard whispered under his breath. 

Henry replied without taking his eyes of the unknown figure, "You've always been a wise one haven't you." 

For the first time in days, Gullard did not come back with a whitty comeback. Both men knew it was not the time for arguing. 

The head of the boar on the man's shoulder was twice as large as an ordinary boar. Compared to deer which ran fast but could be felled by a single well placed arrow, boar were far harder to kill.

Their thick mud-covered hides provided no opportunity for an archer's arrows to cause any substantial damage and their long and sharp tusks could spear a man through the chest with ease. 

Horror stories of men impaled on the tusks of enraged boar and being dragged deep into the forests were told to each generation of new hunters. It was said that their echoing screams lasted for hours. 

Killing a boar of that size posed a serious risk even for an experienced hunting team. Only a fool would risk their life on such a hunt. 

Were the hunt to succeed, likely with at least one member of the party sustaining a serious injury, transporting a huge boar back to the village required a huge amount of manpower. 

For the unknown man to be casually lifting it on his shoulder....

"Can we even-" 

Gullard cut off his companion before he could finish his sentence, "Fear dulls a soldier's blade. Hold your courage." 

Shame flashed in Henry's eyes. He was a warrior who had fought on the battlefield and tasted blood. How could he be so easily shaken. 

Shame quickly gave rise to courage. In a booming voice Henry declared coldly, "Halt! Do not step beyond the line! State your intentions stranger!" 

Both guards felt their hearts thumping painfully in their chests. They watched intently with bloodshot eyes as the stranger lowered his raise foot and stopped less than a meter from the line of paved and polished stone. 

"I mean you no harm. I want to trade." 

The stranger's voice was deep and charismatic. His words held an invisible sense of security and his pronunciation was refined and noble. 

Years of conditioning to obey the noble class had been instilled since birth into the minds of commoners. While they remained wary, Henry and Gullard, couldn't help but relax their guard. 

Gullard slightly lowered his blade. His tone contained a hint of friendliness, "State your name traveler." 

"My name is- "