Chapter 132: The Apprentice Plan

Hearing Wayne's voice, Alex looked up at him.

With tattered clothes, messy hair, and several clear slap marks on his swollen, bruised face, his thin body trembled slightly, looking very pitiful.

However, Wayne discovered that this boy, not yet ten years old, still had clear eyes despite the abuse he had suffered; unlike the numbness found in others in the slums, his eyes still held a spark.

He tilted his little head, looked at Wayne, and after a few seconds, shook his head and said:

"Sorry, sir. Thank you for saving me, but I don't remember you."

Perhaps to him, warning someone whose horse had been stolen was just a casual act.

Wayne reached out and pulled him up from the ground, patted his head, and asked, "You're hurt. I'll take you to the Temple of Melitele to find Mother Nenneke."

"They will heal you."

Mother Nenneke was the administrator of the Temple of Melitele in Wyzima, a woman in her fifties, a kind and benevolent priestess. Wayne had seen the old woman a few times last year when he went to the cemetery to visit his mother.

The cult of Melitele had widespread faith throughout the Northern Kingdoms. Almost all women, from noble ladies to beggars and prostitutes, were followers of the Goddess Melitele.

She was a triune goddess, often appearing as a carefree maiden, a mature pregnant woman, or a stooped old crone, symbolizing fertility, conception, fields, abundance, and many other faiths.

The priestesses of Melitele preached love and peace. They established many hospitals, shelters, and orphanages, and basically all herbalists and midwives in the North came from there.

No lord dared to harm a priestess of Melitele in the North, because doing so would anger all the women of the North, including their own mothers and wives.

However, upon hearing that Wayne wanted to send him to Mother Nenneke, he immediately shook his head and refused: "I don't want to go there. My wounds are already much better, they don't hurt anymore. If I go to Mother Nenneke like this, she will worry about me."

"I see."

Wayne pondered for a second. Alex's injuries were indeed just superficial, so it wasn't strictly necessary to send him to the Temple of Melitele.

"Where is your home? Do you need me to take you back?"

Alex nodded, then shook his head, saying:

"I live in the orphanage next to the temple, but that's not my home. My home was sold to someone else."

"The mothers at the temple take care of me, but I don't want to cause them any more trouble. There are many orphans there, and I want to learn to earn money early so I can move out."

Seeing Alex's resilient character, Wayne felt a bit moved. He was planning to do as the witchers of old had done: adopt some orphans or find children with potential through the Law of Surprise.

Of course, he wouldn't let these children risk their lives in the Trial of the Grasses; instead, he would train them as ordinary sword apprentices.

While witchers were indeed much stronger than ordinary people, it wasn't impossible for an ordinary person to defeat a witcher—just like that famous witcher-killer in the South, whose hands had already claimed three or four witchers.

If there was a chance in the future, Wayne would definitely improve the witcher's Trial of the Grasses, and he would certainly find a dedicated sorceress for the witchers. If he couldn't ensure the survival rate of new witchers, he wasn't prepared to create any more.

After considering for a few seconds, Wayne patted Alex's head and said:

"How about this? I'll take you home with me to treat your wounds."

"Don't you want to work and earn money? I happen to have some chores at home that need doing. From now on, you can come to my place every day to do chores, and I'll give you a wage of twenty copper coins a week, plus three meals a day. How does that sound?"

A wage of twenty copper coins a week was quite meager; the salary of an ordinary adult worker was about five or six times that.

It wasn't that Wayne was stingy with a little money, but for a child under ten like Alex, having too much money would be a disaster.

And he didn't directly propose taking Alex as an apprentice. One reason was that he still needed to observe the child's character; he wouldn't just take in someone whose background and personality he didn't know. Another reason was that the child still lived in the orphanage at the Temple of Melitele, and he was acquainted with Mother Nenneke; regardless of what decision he made, he had to inform her first.

However, Wayne's intentions were good, but he clearly underestimated the vigilance of a child from the slums.

When Alex heard that the man wanted to take him home, a look of vigilance immediately appeared on his small face. He looked around for an escape route and said:

"No, I won't go home with you. Mother Nenneke told us not to follow strangers, because people like that are all human traffickers."

Wayne twitched his mouth. Although he felt a bit awkward, he still recognized the vigilance. He said: "Then how about this? You should know the owner of the Fox Tavern, right? He's my friend. I'll take you to him first. If he can vouch for me, you should be able to trust me, right?"

Upon hearing about Old York of the Fox Tavern, Alex's vigilance lessened slightly. As a well-known local thug in the slums who was also willing to extend a helping hand to other poor people, Old York had quite a reputation in this part of Wyzima's slums.

Moreover, the Fox Tavern wasn't far from here. After Alex followed Wayne to the Fox Tavern and saw that he was indeed a friend of Old York, his vigilance dissipated by eighty or ninety percent, and he began to feel tempted by what Wayne had proposed.

Twenty copper coins a week wasn't much, but three full meals a day was an absolute temptation for these helpless orphans.

Throughout the Northern Kingdoms, there were simply too many orphans, poor people, or sick people in need of help from the Temple of Melitele, and the only income these priestesses had relied on was donations from believers, so one shouldn't expect their treatment to be very good; ensuring the orphans didn't starve to death was already the best they could do.

As for work, there were too many people in this world who needed work; no one was interested in orphans who were physically weak and couldn't do heavy labor, and those who were, were either human traffickers or bad people with other malicious intentions.

Outside the Fox Tavern, Old York was still smoking his old pipe, while Aunt Melissa was using some herbs she had found somewhere to help Alex treat his wounds.

After hearing Wayne's account, Old York frowned and said hatefully, looking at the bruises on Alex's face: "It must be those bastards from the Rat Tail Gang. Just a bunch of thugs from the countryside who think they're something! Daring to bully a child on my turf—these pieces of trash, I'll find people to deal with them later."

Wayne asked with interest upon hearing this:

"The Rat Tail Gang? Is that a new gang? Do you need me to take action? I don't need much of a reward, just give me that good wine you've been hiding."

Hearing Wayne's question, Old York waved his hand dismissively and scoffed:

"Bullshit, they don't deserve to be called a gang. Just a bunch of thieves, hooligans, and scum working together. Mud-legged peasants from the sticks, bullies who fear the strong—any tough guy could knock them over."

Saying this, the old man glared at Wayne and said: "When you slaughtered the Wild Dog Gang last year, killing over a dozen people in one afternoon, it scared the hell out of the trash nearby. Many scumbags left Wyzima directly to make a living elsewhere."

"I reckon there won't be any significant gangs appearing for the next two or three years."

Wayne shrugged regretfully and said:

"What do you think about what I just said?"

"I'm planning to test this child, Alex. If he turns out to be suitable, I'll take him as an apprentice."

"And you should help me keep an eye out for some children who are resilient and not afraid of hardship, but who aren't ungrateful. You can recommend them to me."

"I don't care about their background, nor do I care about their talent. In the world to come, learning how to use a sword might save their lives in times of danger."

Old York frowned and considered for a long while before saying:

"I do know some pitiful, good children."

"But you must promise me absolutely not to let them become witchers. I've heard long ago that out of ten children who want to become witchers, not even one or two survive."

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(End of chapter)