Early the next morning, Lann and Alia checked out of their room at the Silver Swan Tavern.
The two Oren coins he paid earlier were enough to cover the extra cost of cleaning the bedding, so he didn’t have to pay any more.
At the checkout counter, Lann sent Alia to fetch Bopai while he casually mentioned to the bartender calculating the bill,
"Is it just you working here?"
"Yes, sir. Bartending isn’t a busy job, and I also handle accounting, so it’s just me here. I’ve been working here for over ten years now."
The middle-aged man, with a towel over his shoulder, was nothing like the "bartender" from last night.
Even the first time he came to the Silver Swan Tavern, it wasn’t this man he saw.
Which meant, from the moment he first stepped into Gos Velen, the "thing" that called itself Gant Odim had already been waiting here.
Being watched by something that could foresee the future and alter reality, Lann didn’t find it a privilege.
Especially since that "thing" clearly had a mischievous and playful personality.
The Demon Hunter didn’t chat any further with the bartender.
He turned and left the tavern, took Bopai from the reins Alia held, and walked out.
The shrunken alchemy pouch swung on the horse’s rump. Lann mounted the horse, pulling Alia to sit behind him.
Leaning forward on the horseback, he patted Bopai’s nose. It shook its head and snorted a moist, audible breath.
It seemed it rested well last night.
Behind Lann, Alia softly whispered with slight concern.
From the little girl’s perspective, after one night, the knight she followed had a large area of white hair at the roots.
Though this white resembled molten silver, shining with a lustrous glow.
And not the gray-white of aging.
But for such a drastic change overnight... could the mysterious alchemy from last night have burned life span?
Back in Alia’s hometown, tales of magic and alchemy always involved dire costs.
This naturally made her worry.
"No, don’t worry." Lann nonchalantly put on his hood.
"The alchemy last night was a success, and this is one of the signs of success."
In reality, from the rough memories Lann gained, individuals implanted with the same type of genetic seed would display varying degrees of convergence.
And the gene seed named "Son of the Emperor" in his chest had a high probability of turning its host into a silver-haired, handsome man.
Ultimately, it’s just appearance, and in a favorable way that increases charm.
Lann quickly accepted this fact.
After all... what man would refuse to become more handsome and strong?
The sturdy mare gradually increased its pace from a trot to galloping down the deserted morning street.
The experience of conversing with that unknown "thing" last night seemed incapable of shaking Lann’s resolve.
Not to mention an unknown "thing", even if the heavens wanted to play him, would you stand still, doing nothing in resistance?
Lann wasn’t that kind of person.
If the opponent seemed as unreachable as "a tiger biting the sky, with no place to start".
He would still do his tasks step by step.
If he couldn’t interfere with his opponent, he would ensure his own stable progress.
First, need to hone and adapt to his current combat strength, and fulfill the mission with Airetusa Academy.
Or just simply vent his revulsion and anger towards slavery and cannibalism.
He needed to make a trip to Vizima.
——Then kill the Head Eater and his buyer!
Temerian Capital, Vizima.
In a lavish mansion located in the trade district, the Head Eater—Ubank, sat anxiously in a row of seats outside the study.
In this vast mansion, soldiers clad in military armor would patrol back and forth from time to time.
Their armor setup was similar to Temerian standard armor, basic composite armor.
But the outer surcoat bore no white lily emblem, but rather plain black.
And at all entrances and corners of the estate, there were towering warriors covered head to toe in gleaming plate armor, their faces protected by visors.
Such fully armored warriors, even if beset by many adversaries on the battlefield, would take quite a while of arduous targeting to kill the warrior inside.
And the warriors able to wear such armor and still move freely were likely to swing their weapons, like a large windmill, creating a veritable bloodstorm.
Simply put, one armored soldier was enough to slay five unarmored warriors.
But in front of the fully armored warrior, even armored soldiers were the slain.
Ubank sat there looking around, all he saw was the closed study door and the corridor corner.
But just sitting for this while, seeing the soldiers passing by the corridor corner, it would have been enough to slaughter the meticulously run camp he had in Velen.
And he clearly knew that this mansion, vast and deep, had many more guards than he could see.
Even disregarding the power these guards represented, just the sprawling area this mansion occupied in the trade district was enough to illustrate the owner’s distinguished status.
Vizima was not only the Temerian capital, but also a crossroads.
No discussion of the slightly fearsome Old Vizima, due to old matters, nor the worthless haven for paupers and criminals—the Temple District, but solely the crucial trade district.
Merchants and goods converging from riverways and roads filled this city to the brim.
Bureaucrats wielding power and desiring safety and convenience filled the gaps in the trade district.
Rumor has it, Veltrest, during the "Vampire Bird Incident", when relocating the palace, was implored by the prosperity of trade and bureaucracy to make concessions in palace area.
As Ubank was aimlessly thinking, the study door suddenly opened.
The expensive build of the door, despite its thickness and solidity, prevented it from making any noise.
The male Warlock—Safra, dressed in light leather armor and a mask veiling the lower part of his face, walked out with furrowed brows, seemingly dissatisfied with the recent conversation.
His cold gaze above the mask swept over Ubank like a venomous snake.
Causing the Skellige Islands’ robust giant to smile sheepishly, resembling a chick, retracting his body.
"Your turn, Head Eater, huh."
With apparent contempt for this nickname, Safra sneered.
"Good luck to you, hope the lord listens to your explanation. Due to this mishap, I’ll be busy for a while."
After speaking, the bald, masked Warlock walked away.
Ubank stood up with a sycophantic smile, seeing him off.
Then he approached the study door.
Once the door closed tight, Ubank’s obsequious smile towards Safra instantly vanished.
Inside the study, a well-dressed middle-aged man was fiddling with a small carriage model.
Upon receiving the answer, the middle-aged man nodded.
"Safra, as a Warlock, is highly capable and ambitious, but no matter how great the ambition, I can satisfy it. Yet I can’t let him effortlessly fulfill his desires."
"Power and wealth... need to go through hardships to become more valuable. When the time comes for me to use him, it’ll be more convenient."
"But you are different, Ubank."
Upon hearing himself being discussed, the Head Eater humbly lowered his head in silence.
"You arrived with nothing, without the skills of a Warlock. That’s why I give when needed, as your needs are urgent. Moreover, both your mind and capabilities often prove worthwhile. But this time..."
The well-mannered middle-aged man put down the carriage model, raising his head.
The Head Eater, in turn, lowered his head even further.
"Give me an explanation, Ubank."