Chapter 43: Daring to Steal My Horse

After eavesdropping in the tavern for a while, Wayne had gained quite a lot, and he suddenly felt that possessing super hearing was truly a wonderful thing.

Not only did it grant him sharper perception in combat, making it difficult for him to be ambushed, but it also provided all sorts of unexpected conveniences in daily life.

Although the tavern patrons were only speaking in low voices, they believed that in such a noisy environment, they would not be heard by those around them.

But they did not know that there was a witcher nearby, a super-warrior with super senses; any subtle sound, once it entered the witcher's range of perception, would be detected.

In the time it took to eat a meal, Wayne had not only heard about some major events that had occurred in the city of Wyzima during this period, the policies of the City Hall, and the conspiracy of a gang of robbers, but he had even heard some news regarding a striga from the fragmented words of the patrons.

It seemed that starting about a year and a half ago, many cases of beast attacks and missing persons had occurred one after another in the residential area near the royal palace, and the city guard always handled these cases vaguely, never catching the real culprit, which left the people in a state of panic.

Even now, many commoners were unwilling to go out at night, and even the gangsters and thieves in the city were affected by this, not daring to come out to commit crimes at night, so public order had actually improved quite a bit.

However, after the royal palace relocated and the new city began to be planned, many of the sharper residents also felt a sense of crisis and began to consider moving.

By now, this monster that attacked residents at night had already caused panic in the hearts of many people, but because the authorities had been covering up the truth, the residents still did not know that the true identity of that monster was the daughter of the current King Foltest.

Just as Wayne was finding it interesting, a ragged, scrawny-looking boy walked into the tavern, scanned the tavern, and after spotting Wayne, carefully avoided the other patrons, walked up to him, and said:

"Sir, your horse has been stolen."

Upon hearing this, Wayne immediately frowned and stood up to walk out of the tavern.

He pushed aside the drunkard blocking his way, lifted the tapestry at the entrance, and upon looking over at the stables, sure enough, his black mare Lucifer, which he had bought from Toruviel, was gone.

The crowd of onlookers nearby all cast gazes of various expressions, secretly peeking at him, wanting to see what his reaction would be.

On the surface, Wayne had no expression, but inside, he was already cursing up a storm.

Damn it, he didn't know where the petty thief came from; to actually steal from him, and even dare to steal his horse, was simply asking for death.

One had to know that the price of a good horse, converted into Orens, was at least six hundred Orens, which was money many poor people could not earn in a lifetime.

Daring to steal a horse in the city, were those city guards just eating for free?

This was just too blatant.

Wayne was indignant, though not particularly worried; the truly valuable items were on his person, and on the horse's back were only some worthless luggage, the herbs he had gathered, and that elven bow Toruviel had given him—that was a good item, it couldn't be lost.

However, these petty thieves shouldn't have provoked anyone, yet they dared to provoke a witcher; he would go find them in a moment and make these bastards pay double.

At this moment, the tavern owner, Old York, also walked out; he only took a casual glance before guessing the gist of the matter, turned his head to look at Wayne, and said indifferently:

"It must have been the work of the Stray Dogs gang."

"You shouldn't have ridden a horse into the slums; the price of a horse here could trade for several human lives, and those guys will do anything for money."

Old York looked at the steel sword in Wayne's hand, as well as his amber pupils, and said softly:

"Besides, during this period, a large number of outsiders have flooded into the city, and the city guard is very busy; if you go to report a theft like this, by the time they come to handle it, you definitely won't find a damn thing."

"You can either accept your bad luck, or prepare a sum of money; perhaps you can buy your horse back from the hands of the Stray Dogs gang."

Wayne raised an eyebrow and asked with some amusement:

"They stole my property and still want me to pay to buy it back? This Stray Dogs gang has some nerve."

Old York looked at Wayne with a frown and warned:

"Young man, I know you probably have some special skills and maybe know a bit of swordsmanship, but the Stray Dogs gang has dozens of members, all of whom are bastards who commit every kind of evil."

"Their boss, Dog King, also has a knack for training dogs and keeps many vicious dogs; ordinary people can't afford to provoke them."

"Don't lose your life over a horse."

Wayne nodded without speaking, then suddenly noticed that the boy who had just told him the news about his horse being stolen had also walked out of the tavern, his thin body in ragged clothes shivering slightly in the cold wind.

Old York also noticed his gaze, turned to look at the boy, snorted, and said:

"That kid is named Alex; his only relative died two months ago, and now he's become a beggar, surviving only on the charity of the nuns."

"He's a kind kid, but he did a stupid thing today."

Wayne's expression shifted, and he immediately understood the meaning behind Old York's words, asking:

"Will the people from the Stray Dogs gang retaliate against him? Retaliate against a little kid?"

Old York spat on the ground and said with disgust:

"These bastards are all bottom-feeders who will do anything bad, but they are very observant and won't provoke those nobles and wealthy people, which is why the city guard hasn't dealt with them."

"However, I've seen plenty; this kind of gang won't be rampant for long. In a few years, they will be replaced by other gangs, and the bastards of the Stray Dogs will rot in some unknown gutter."

"As long as there are places where people congregate, this kind of thing can never disappear; it's the same everywhere."

Being able to say these things, it was clear that Old York was also a person of considerable experience.

Wayne thought for a moment, and no longer beating around the bush, he asked directly:

"Old York, do you remember the half-elf child who worked at your shop ten years ago?"

Upon hearing this, Old York turned his head, squinted his eyes, and scrutinized Wayne for over ten seconds before saying in realization:

"I was wondering why you looked so familiar; so it's you, kid. Your name is Wayne, right? I still remember you."

"Have you become a witcher now? No wonder you have a pair of eyes like a cat's."

Wayne was quite surprised; he hadn't expected that after so long, this tavern owner would still remember him, not even forgetting his name.

So he asked with some surprise:

"You actually still remember me, Old York?"

The tavern owner snorted and said disdainfully:

"My memory is damn good. If your mother, Martha, hadn't begged me several times back then, would I have taken in a little brat like you who couldn't do a damn thing to work in my shop?"

Hearing Old York mention Martha, Wayne didn't mind his rude tone and immediately asked:

"What happened to my mother later? Old York, do you know?"

Upon hearing this, Old York stopped looking at Wayne's expression, sighed softly, and then said indifferently:

"What else could happen? Her illness couldn't even be cured by the nuns of the Melitele temple; not two months after you were taken away, she died of illness."

"Melissa paid for her burial, and her grave is in the current temple cemetery."

Hearing this news, Wayne's expression shifted, and he felt an invisible urge within his body that made him want to go to the grave to pay his respects to Martha, so he sighed and asked:

"Melissa? Is that Auntie Melissa? Was that her, the one who just brought me the wine and meat?"

In Wayne's hazy memory, this was a prostitute who had a good relationship with his mother; although they couldn't be called sisters, in those difficult days, they could be said to have supported each other.

Old York snorted again and said:

"Five or six years ago, she was beaten by a patron and had one of her legs broken."

"I saw she was pitiful, so I took her in; if it weren't for seeing that she worked diligently, I wouldn't have kept a cripple."

(End of chapter)