Chapter 3: Butcher

The village’s streets were uneven, rugged, and trodden, with puddles of water that could be seen all across them, glimmering under the sun. A young man and child were going toward Fletcher the butcher’s house on the northern side of the village.

If Roy remembered correctly, Fletcher was Susie’s distant relative, and they’d visit each other occasionally. Maybe this can work.

“Hah! Look at you, Rooster Slayer. You’re scrawny and weak. Even a bat’s larger than you. You want to be my father’s apprentice? Go home and stare at the sun like you always do,” Brandon derided, sucking the snot that was drooling down to his lip.

Roy trailed behind Brandon. The boy was barely four feet tall, while Roy was about five feet, four inches. As he looked down at Brandon’s bob cut, Roy pressed down on the strands of hair that stood out to flatten them down. Before Brandon could look back, Roy pulled his hand away.

PR/N: Four feet is around 1.22 meters. Five feet, four inches is around 1.63 meters.

Well, that’s the spot.

He was an eighteen-year-old man in his past life, so Roy thought there was no need to argue with a brat. He shrugged, looking nonchalant. “I’m already thirteen. So what if I killed a chicken? Only bumpkin brats like you would get scared. Rooster Slayer? That’s a dumb name. Where did you come up with it? In dummy land?”

“You’re a fool who can’t even toil the field, and yet you can kill a chicken? Obviously, you’re possessed by a demon, so I’ll have to keep monitoring you closely. Wait, did you just call me a bumpkin?” Brandon wiped the snot off his lips with his fat, dirty hands, before wiping his fingers on his clean shirt.

Brandon’s financial standing was better than most families in the village, thanks to him being the butcher’s son. He never starved, and his clothes were always clean. Even though he was a young child, his peers were nothing but his sycophants. Because of that, he had a superiority complex since he was young, and he tolerated no insult toward his person.

“Hey, bumpkin! My father saw Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia at the winter solstice festival. and he told me about that grand event every night! You’ve never even stepped out of this village, and you call me a bumpkin?”

“Oh, so you’re saying that Uncle Fletcher brags to you every night, huh? Has he ever told you about magic tricks then?” Roy observed Brandon’s expression calmly. When he heard about magic tricks, Brandon’s eyes shone, and they filled with longing and admiration as he blabbered about it.

Roy was relieved to see Brandon’s interest in tricks. He stopped in his tracks and puffed out his chest. “If you can convince Uncle Fletcher to take me as his apprentice, then I, the great Roy, will show you one magical trick.”

“Yeah, tell that to Don Quixote’s kid, maybe that’ll work. I won’t be… fooled?” Brandon choked on his words, and his jaw dropped to the point someone could put an egg in his mouth. His eyes widened, and his snot drooled down uncontrollably.

“H-How did you do it?” Right before his very eyes, under the glaring sun, the pebble in Roy’s right hand had disappeared without a trace, as if it had moved away before anyone realized it.

When Roy clenched his fist and opened it again, the pebble appeared out of thin air. “See that? That’s the trick I told you about.” Roy was satisfied with the reaction he got from Brandon. The secret to that trick was Roy’s inventory space. The pebble was transported there, and all Roy had to do was think about it to make it reappear.

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“I don’t believe you! Do it again!”

“Let’s do it with a different item this time. Do you have any money?” Roy asked.

“Sure I do.” Brandon would smuggle money from his father sometimes to treat his buddies to some dried fruit and fruit wine in the inn.

“I’ll need one crown to do this. If you can kindly give it to me.”

Piqued by his curiosity, Brandon fell for Roy’s ruse. He took out a yellow coin — a crown — and gave it to Roy. He then craned his neck to see the trick. Roy closed his palm and turned his hand down, and when he turned it back up, the crown had disappeared into thin air.

“I stayed at home all the time to learn this trick. Now that I’ve mastered it, I think I should show it to you guys.”

Brandon, still skeptical, searched Roy, but he found no place where Roy could have hidden the crown. Left with no excuses, he agreed to Roy’s deal.

“Right. You teach me this trick, and I’ll ask my dad to take you as his apprentice. This is a good deal.”

“Oh, and one more thing you need to know.” Since Brandon didn’t ask for his money back, Roy kept it for himself. “Don’t ever call me Rooster Slayer, and don’t tell anyone about it.”

***

In the butcher’s house stood a pudgy middle-aged man who was caressing a cow hung upside down by the limbs on a butchering rack. As he was about to slaughter it, the butcher noticed Roy and Brandon coming in. He ignored Roy and roared angrily at his fat son. “Where’d you go again, you brat? You missed the chief’s classes for half a month this time! Do you think money grows on trees? If you keep on being illiterate, you can forget about being a bard! Be a butcher like me!”

Brandon stared down and blushed after his father exposed his dream. He was a butcher’s son, but his dream was to become a bard who traveled the world and told various stories to people he met along the way. If anyone knew about it, they’d laugh their socks off.

There were only three villagers in Kaer who knew how to read and write, including the chief. Most of the villagers would have to pay if they wanted to write to their relatives. Even though Fletcher was a mere brute, he didn’t want his son to be illiterate.

“If you can get the chief’s praise, I’ll get Tom to take you to Vengerberg, Brandon! If you can learn everything from him, I’ll get you to Oxenfurt University even if it bankrupts me! Your mother wanted you to go before she passed away. Don’t disappoint her!”

Roy didn’t think much about it when he heard about Brandon wanting to be a bard, but he was surprised after hearing what Fletcher said. This guy has a big dream.

Being a butcher was a lucrative job, but educated people enjoyed better status in the world. Someone who could read and write the common speech of the northern kingdoms could live a great life in any village. If they were lucky enough to be a scribe in a city, they could garner great respect. If they managed to get into a university, they’d be almost revered.

The university Fletcher mentioned, Oxenfurt, was one of the best universities in the world, and only the Nilfgaardian Imperial Academy was on par with it. Geralt’s best friends, Jaskier and Shani, were graduates of Oxenfurt.

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You can’t underestimate villagers, huh?

Roy looked at Fletcher, then at Brandon.

Fletcher was still yelling at his son and ignoring Roy. “Get into the house, you brat!”

Brandon gave a pleading look at Roy, and Roy went up to Fletcher. “Uncle Fletcher, I’m — ”

The butcher waved him down impatiently and interjected. “You’re all healed up, aren’t you, Roy? Take some meat with you later when you go back. Susie’s worried sick about you, so spend some time with her.”

Brandon, still wanting to learn the magic trick, croaked despite his fear, “Fletcher, he wants to be your apprentice.”

“Him?” Fletcher glanced at Roy. “I am looking for an apprentice, but you’ve never even toiled in the fields. Susie won’t let you. Also, you’re frail and feeble. How long will it take for you to process one animal? Half a day? No, you can’t be my apprentice. Just go away,” Fletcher said honestly.

Being a butcher might’ve been exhausting and dirty, but everyone wanted to do it. As long as they had the skill, they could earn many crowns and luxury. Fletcher wanted Brandon to inherit the business — for it would set him up for life — but since Brandon could learn common speech, Fletcher didn’t force him into it. Brandon had a better future anyway.

Since Roy was frail, most of the ways to gain EXP were dangerous for him. He needed a safe, stable source of EXP, so a little hurdle wouldn’t stop him. He cracked his fingers and put on a serious look. “Give me a chance to explain, Uncle Fletcher.”

He nodded.

“I’ve talked this through with my parents, so I’m calling the shots here.” Roy paused. “You said a tough body is essential for a butcher, and you’re right, but more than that, a great butcher must be skilful and experienced. I think that can be attained if I put in enough work. I know you can cut up all the livestock perfectly even with your eyes closed, because you’re experienced.

“I might be frail now, but I’m young, energetic, and still growing. Also, I can learn fast. If you’re willing to teach me, I won’t let you down, I promise.” Roy gritted his teeth and made another offer. “If I can’t work well in my apprenticeship, I’ll work for free. All I need is some occasional meat.”

After hearing the offer, the butcher grinned. “You’ve changed, Roy. You used to be really quiet, but now you’re a glib tongue. Looks like I have to take you in then. Right, I’ll give you a chance for Susie’s sake. Can you make the kill?” He moved away, revealing the cow behind him.

“If you can kill this big old cow here and keep your barf down, I’ll take you as my apprentice.”

He thought Roy wouldn’t make the kill, for a young man like him had never seen blood. However, the soul inhabiting this body lived in a time where information was free, and gore was abundant. Roy, or to be more precise, Luo Yi, had seen worse than a cow’s butcher.

Roy took the butcher’s knife from Fletcher calmly before going up to the hanging cow. He then turned back and said sincerely, “Uncle Fletcher, to be honest, I had a long dream after the horse crashed into me, and I’ve decided to change myself after I woke up. I’m just a villager who knows nothing about toiling in the fields, but I have to learn something to support myself and the family. Moore and Susie’s been taking care of me for a long time now. It’s time I pay my dues.”

A deafening silence befell the butcher’s home. All the color drained from Brandon’s face, and he held his breath. He might’ve been the butcher’s son, but he’d never killed anything. Every time Fletcher worked, he would stay far, far away and cover his ears. The frail Roy, who was holding the gleaming butcher’s knife, looked so familiar, yet so alien to him.

Roy’s not the timid guy he used to be, Brandon thought.

Surprise flared on Fletcher’s glistening face. Did Roy just grow up? He’s already working for his family. Then he glanced at the snotty brat who was his son.

Should I get a horse to crash into this brat? That seems like how someone would grow as a person.

“Roy, there should be a bulge around the cow’s neck. I just found it earlier. Use the knife and stab into that. If you do it right, the cow should die peacefully.”

The moment Fletcher said that, Roy squinted. He thought back at how he killed the chicken, and grasped the feeling he’d had when he’d slit its throat.

Roy made a calm swing, and the knife made a clean, fierce stab. Roy pierced the cow’s neck and pulled the knife out in a moment. The animal stared at him, wide-eyed, for the final time in its life. Tears streamed down its face, and it mooed weakly before taking its last breath without any struggle.

At the same time, Roy’s character sheet showed he had seven EXP. Obviously, killing the cow granted him five EXP.

It was his second kill, but he didn’t retch, nor did he buzz with excitement.

Killing a cow was different from killing a chicken. Instead of being elated about getting the experience, Roy felt sad, and also scared.

Why do I gain EXP from killing? How does it work anyway? How many EXP can I gain if I kill a human? Are living beings nothing but EXP for my character sheet? And how does it dictate the amount of EXP I gain for the kill I make? The size? Or the life force? Or the creature’s soul? Or… something else? Countless questions popped into his mind, and he must kill to find the answer to those questions. He stood before the dead cow, stunned, and blood dripped from his knife.

At the same time, Fletcher let out a hearty laugh and smacked his shoulder. The impact from that smack snapped Roy out of his trance. “Nice kill! Didn’t expect you to be this gutsy. Say, did you get braver after almost being crushed by the horse? Either way, you made the cut. If you don’t mind getting yourself dirty and exhausted, come here before dawn tomorrow. Make it through, and you’ll be getting some meat. Some crowns too, if you’re exceptional.”

Fletcher was getting on in age. His son spent all his time learning common speech and refused to inherit the business. The butcher desperately needed a helper. Roy might’ve been frail, but Fletcher had watched over him over the years. Roy was an honest boy who knew how to give back. Because of Susie, he was also Roy’s uncle, so Fletcher didn’t mind teaching him the skill.

Roy snapped out of his sadness, and resolve stirred within him. “I’ll be here on time, Uncle Fletcher.” I can barely feed myself, and an unknown danger is approaching. I can’t feel sorry for a cow when I have to kill more creatures. That’d make me a hypocrite, he mocked himself. Then Roy stopped feeling sorry and gripped the knife tightly.

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