Chapter 38: Lena
"Source of the Wild? What in the world is that?" Alistair asked the system. He could feel a new, seven-colored orb of light pulsing within him, radiating a primal and untamed aura.
[Unique World-Curio, Source of the Wild. It is the fountainhead of the Breath of the Wild, containing all its various forms.]
"And what is the Breath of the Wild?" Alistair inquired.
[A Curio. The Breath of the Wild is a fundamental rule of natural power. Pure natural beings can, according to their innate talent, perceive the Breath and awaken the latent power within their bloodlines.]
"Can I perceive power from it? I consider myself quite pure." Alistair adopted a perfectly straight-faced, serious expression.
[No!]
"So what use is this thing to me? Have I just become a walking, talking Wi-Fi hotspot for the Breath of the Wild?" Alistair grumbled. He was thoroughly vexed. To get a lucky critical hit on a reward, only for it to be something useless to him personally, was maddening.
"System, what qualifies as a ’pure natural being’?"
[It is difficult to describe. As an example, the horse the Host is currently riding qualifies.]
Alistair looked down at his Drakeblood Steed. He found the warhorse tilting its head and looking right back at him, its large, dark eyes filled with a clear sense of joy and... infatuation?
"!?"
My horse, there’s something wrong with you!
He was certainly a fan of beast-eared girls, but a horse was absolutely out of the question. Especially a stallion.
It must be the Source of the Wild, he deduced. According to the system, I’ve essentially become a living catalyst for natural evolution. That’s why my horse is acting more affectionate, why it’s giving me that look.
And the range of the Source of the Wild must be limited. None of the other horses nearby are reacting. That’s a good thing. The last thing I need is to have birds constantly trying to perch on me.
With a flicker of understanding, Alistair began to ponder how best to utilize the Source of the Wild for the benefit of his domain.
Should he open a super-breeding farm? Raise chickens the size of cows? Breed fish that could live out of water, or pigs that birthed litters of twenty?
He was a lord, not a farmer. But thinking on a grander scale, perhaps he could use the Source to cultivate tamed magical beasts, or to breed stronger warhorses.
It clearly wasn’t that simple, however. The system had specified that a creature’s ability to perceive the Breath depended on its own innate talent. Some might begin to awaken their potential upon their first exposure, while others might go their entire lives without grasping it, only feeling a primal instinct to draw near to the Source.
His own warhorse, for example, was showing no special reaction so far, aside from the disturbingly affectionate glances.
Alistair couldn’t quite figure it out yet. He would have to wait until he returned to Frostfell to conduct some proper experiments.
As they did not press for speed on the return journey, Alistair and his army only arrived back at Silversky Town the following morning. He planned to make a brief stop—first, to let his soldiers rest and recover, and second, to officially transfer ownership of the town to the Saintess.
The players were surprisingly insistent on this point, demanding a signed contract, though Alistair knew he could renege on such a document at any time.
But he would soon discover that the players and the beastkin were not as naive as he had assumed.
Inside the mayor’s residence in Silversky Town, player representatives stood in solemn rows along the walls of the room.
At a square table in the center of the hall, Alistair sat opposite the beastkin Saintess, Lena. She still wore her patched, yet immaculately clean, priestess dress. With her fox ears, fox tail, and long, snowy white hair cascading down her back, she looked beautiful and sacred.
The only oddity was the dazed, dreamy look in her eyes.
Alistair couldn’t help but steal another glance or two at the lovely fox-eared girl, briefly wondering if he should fund the creation of a new ceremonial dress for her.
"Lord of Frostfell, if you have no objections, shall we begin drafting the contract to transfer ownership of Silversky Town?" Geralt asked, his tone serious as he placed a parchment scroll on the table before Alistair.
Alistair looked at the scroll in surprise. It was blessed by the Goddess of Order.
Well now, where did this lot get their hands on this? Does Frostfell even have a shrine to that old woman?
He said nothing, however. He simply took a quill pen and, with a few quick scratches, drafted the contract. He signed his name at the bottom and pushed it toward Geralt.
Geralt and the other players had no idea what to make of the document; they couldn’t read the language of the Continent of Destiny. They could only turn to Saintess Lena for help.
From the moment the Lord of Frostfell had sat down opposite her, Lena had been in a trance. It wasn’t because of their previous encounter. It was because she could sense a new, indescribably comfortable aura emanating from him—an aura that made her want to draw closer, to nuzzle against him, to... lick him.
The longer he sat there, the stronger the feeling became, until it was nearly overwhelming her consciousness. It was so intense that she didn’t even notice when a player stood before her, waving a hand in front of her face for some time.
"Your Holiness? Uh oh. Don’t tell me the Saintess has fallen for the Lord of Frostfell. That look in her eyes is not right..."
"Ah... what?"
Geralt’s muttering snapped Lena back to reality. She looked at the confused player before her, then stole a glance at the amused expression on the Lord of Frostfell’s face. Her own face flushed a deep crimson. She quickly lowered her head and stammered, "Is-is there something you need?"
"Er..." Geralt was at a loss for words. The Saintess had been completely zoned out this whole time.
Sighing internally, he patiently repeated himself. "The Lord of Frostfell has drafted the contract. We need you to look it over. If there are no objections, we’ll sign. If there’s a problem, we can renegotiate."
Lena looked at the scroll and began to read aloud. "...hereby transfer all rights to Silversky Town previously held by Mayor Merriweather to the beastkin Saintess, Lena, including the rights of governance... effective immediately, the beastkin Saintess, Lena, shall become the mayor of Silversky Town for a term of: infinity. The Lord of Frostfell shall guarantee the validity of this contract and may not terminate it..."
She read the words several times. She felt that something was wrong, yet she couldn’t find anything wrong with it. Utterly baffled, she looked up, her pleading eyes falling on Geralt.
Geralt froze. Why are you looking at me? I don’t know the rules of the Continent of Destiny either!
But what could he do? Saintess Lena was their favorite NPC. Steeling himself, Geralt turned to Alistair. "Lord of Frostfell, as an Earl, you wouldn’t be playing any word games in the contract, would you?"
Alistair smiled with what looked like perfect sincerity. "I am a man who prides himself on his precision and his honesty. The contract is written with absolute clarity. The ownership of Silversky Town is transferred from the former mayor, Merriweather, to Lena. It establishes a clear chain of title, which will make it easier to trace should any issues arise in the future."
Geralt nodded, then conferred with the other players. They were clueless. In the end, they left the decision to Saintess Lena.
Lena’s gaze flickered back and forth between the contract and Alistair’s face. After a long moment, she bit her lip and, bracing herself, signed her name to the parchment.
The moment she did, the scroll began to vibrate, emitting a brilliant white light before dissolving into motes and vanishing into the air. In that instant, everyone present felt a supreme, otherworldly will sweep through the room.
They knew the contract was now in effect, acknowledged and protected by the Goddess of Order herself. Any who violated it would suffer divine punishment.
A sunny smile spread across Alistair’s face. He leaned back comfortably in his chair and clapped his hands together. "Congratulations, Saintess of the beastkin. From this day forward, you are the Mayor of Silversky Town."
Lena’s heart swelled with joy. This meant the beastkin finally had a true home, a place where they would no longer have to wander. And with the Goddess of Order protecting the contract, she didn’t have to worry about the Lord of Frostfell going back on his word.
But just then, the Lord of Frostfell’s voice, now as cold and sharp as a devil’s whisper, echoed in the hall.
"And now, let us discuss the matter of taxes for Silversky Town, a subsidiary town of my domain, Frostfell."