Chapter 44 - Decent Fellow_Lifestealer: Cursed Healer [A LITRPG Isekai Survival]

Symon chewed on his cheek as he considered if it was even feasible for him to rent a room in the inn, only stopping once he felt a tiny amount of vitality float out of his vessel toward his now slightly bleeding cheek. He was sure one of his friends would just bring out some food for him, but that didn't help with the sleeping situation. Maybe there was an empty house they'd let him sleep in? Perhaps he could just climb up to a second floor room with a rope?

Symon just didn't know enough about the village to come up with a proper plan, but he knew one way to get some information. The tavernkeeper always had their finger on the pulse of the area. It was a staple of every video game, book, or movie, and Symon expected it would be true here in Brackstead too.

When Symon peered around the back of the inn, he found an outdoor area with a few tables and chairs set up, but no one else was currently there. There were still many hours before nightfall, so it was likely that the majority of the establishment's customers were still down in the mine. He

Nice and empty, perfect for me.

"Hey bud, think you can order some food for me and have someone from the village bring it out to me? I'll be at that table getting some shade under that tree," he said to Aslan. "I'll pay you back once I get some coins!"

The other man waved him off and made his way into the building, entering through the backdoor. It led into the main room, while one of the side doors was probably for the staff. Man, Aslan really is such a nice guy, Symon thought. He'd been the only one to buy something from the tailor, meaning Aslan had come with him just to keep him safe, not that it had been necessary. The villagers seemed a little wary of strangers, but nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he wanted to get something nice for him and the others to show his appreciation, but it would have to be a quest for the future.

Symon didn't have anything to do but wait, so he did exactly that. The chair out back of the inn was wooden and a bit uncomfortable, but the breeze was pleasant and the heat was not too bad here under the shade of a large tree. He considered striking up a conversation with Keelgrave, but the spirit was still seething over the imperial Baron. He wasn't sure how he could tell this — it wasn't like Keelgrave had any body language to be read — but it must have been from their bond.

Before long, a barrel-chested man with overgrown mutton chops exited the inn. He was carrying a steaming bowl of food, as well as a small pitcher that sloshed around dangerously close to the edge as he walked.

"Foreigner," the man said as he approached. "You are from the empire?"

"No, I came from the desert. I'm just a simple wandering healer. The name's Symon."

"I'm Durga, owner of this establishment," Durga said as the placed the food and drink on the table. The ground was paved stone here, meaning no plants grew and Symon had nothing to drain, but the innkeeper stayed barely out of Symon's range. "You came from the desert? Some kind of sand spirit?"

"Err, no, I'm just a regular guy." Well, mostly normal, he thought to himself.

"Then why are you so pale?" he asked honestly, a confused expression on his face.

Symon knew his skin marked him as an obvious foreigner — he was even lighter than the imperials — but he hadn't drawn the connection that, yeah, he was pretty close in colour to the bone-white sand of the desert. "I came to the desert from someplace else," he replied. It wasn't a lie, but it still left out the truth, perfect for Symon.

"Ah, from another continent? In that case, you must tell me what your foreign palate thinks of my cider! Drink up!" he said, gesturing to the small pitcher he'd placed on the table.

Symon had been a little thirsty, so he didn't have to be told twice. There weren't any cups, so he simply picked the pitcher up and raised it to his mouth. It was room temperature, but still delicious. It had a smooth, crisp taste, and was very sweet with only the faintest taste of alcohol. When he placed the pitcher back down, he noticed that Durga was staring at him nervously.

"Well? What do you think?" he asked.

"It's delicious!" Symon said, causing the other man to visibly slump in relief. "It would be better chilled, but I guess your village doesn't have a way to do that?"

Durga shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I've heard of these enchanted coolers, but there certainly aren't any enchanters here. All everyone knows here is swinging picks at rock and drinking beer. No appreciation for a cider..."

"Well, I don't drink much and even I can tell it's good. Say, do you have any recommendations for how a healer could make a few coins? I'm not looking to rinse your people of their money, I'd just need enough to get by. I'm happy to do some odd jobs too, if you have any ideas."

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He could tell by how Durga pressed his lips together slightly harder than usual that he was considering what he should say. Wait, how can I tell that? His own eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and he was keenly aware of the way his facial muscles shifted to move his eyebrows.

Oh, right, my Anatomy passive. I almost forgot it works on other people if I focus enough on them.

"Well, I probably shouldn't be sharing this with an outsider," Durga said. "But... you seem a decent fellow, and maybe your healing can help. Our mayor, or I suppose our ex-mayor"— his expression darkened slightly before quickly shifting back to a forced neutral —" has been poorly for a while now. It's just old age, from what I hear, but perhaps you can help some."

Symon nodded. "I think I can help, at least a little." That would be the perfect two birds with one stone scenario — getting to ask the mayor a few questions about what the hell was up with the Baron, as well as earning a bit of money. Plus, it couldn't hurt to be friendly with the former leader of the village.

"And if you're looking for non-healing jobs, I'm sure the foreman would love a new miner. Oh, and if you fancy yourself an adventurer you could check out the old manor. Probably some old coins up there, or at least something to sell."

Symon skipped over the idea of working as a miner for the clearly more interesting mystery manor. "Really now? I haven't seen any manors."

"Well..." Durga said, looking over his shoulder as if worried someone would overhear. "I've only been here a few years, but... there was some type of incident with the noblewoman who lived up in some fancy manor, off to the west."

"What kind of incident are we talking about?" Symon asked.

"No one here seems to want to talk about it, and it happened some 30-odd years ago, but I've heard a few things from some old timers who were deep in their cups. From what I gathered, the lady died under mysterious circumstances. No one seems to know how, but everyone has their own theory. Beast attacks, secret demon-worshipping cults, she was secretly an advanced golem that ran out of mana and exploded. Some pretty crazy stuff, but I doubt most of them."

Keelgrave stated, speaking up for the first time in a while. Symon wasn't sure what to make of that.

"And what do you think it was?" Symon asked aloud.

"Personally? I'd have guessed a robbery, but that doesn't explain why no one who goes in ever comes out."

This went from mystery treasure to haunted murder house in a heartbeat, Symon thought. "Well, I'll try and scope it out from a distance, maybe. It would be good to warn people if there's something dangerous still there."

Durga shrugged. "It's your life, kid. Just try not to get yourself killed."

"Do people vanish often?"

"Everyone's learned no good will come from even going near it, so no. I probably shouldn't have even brought it up, knowing some bright-eyed youngster like you wouldn't be able to resist investigating. If you die, you can't say I didn't warn you, okay?"

"Sure, sure, I'm not going to get myself killed just for some theoretical treasure that might not even exist," Symon promised. He wasn't a greedy person — money was only useful as a means to an end, in this case having a stable living while he saved up to get passage on a ship to the mainland. "Oh, and before you go, can I ask how often a ship comes by here? One I could book passage on."

"Looking to get out of here already, eh? I can't blame you, this place is a dump. There's usually one every month, it brings in some outside goods and we load it up with ore from the mine in exchange. It just left a few days ago, so you'll be waiting for a while."

"Hmm, a month isn't too bad. I appreciate the meal and all the information, I'd tip you if I had any coins at all," Symon offered.

Durga guffawed at that. "Heh, even just the intention to tip is better than all my usual patrons! You stay safe now, Symon," he said before returning back the way he'd come.

Symon returned his attention to the meal in front of him, taking another sip of the cider while he considered just what was in that steaming bowl of food. It was a very unappealing-looking porridge-like sludge. Hesitantly raising a small portion to his mouth with a roughly carved spoon, he found it to be... passable. It didn't taste like much initially, but had a faint meaty aftertaste and needed a bit more salt. Or maybe some hot sauce.

"I know what you're going to say," he thought to Keelgrave. "No Symon, you big idiot, don't go wandering off to the obvious deathtrap you were specifically warned about. Something like that?"

Keelgrave said. He was generally a sarcastic person, but he seemed serious in this moment.

"Wait, what? Why?" Symon said aloud, accidentally sputtering out a small spray of gruel in his confusion.

"Thanks bud, right back at you." Symon began quickly shovelling down the tasteless gruel while mentally chatting with Keelgrave. "I'm going to go check in with the mayor, then with my friends, then we head out for the manor. Sound good to you?"

"I figure I can just ask someone on the street," Symon thought as he finished off his food. It wasn't great, but hopefully, if he continued to power through it he wouldn't look so skinny. I've gotta eat big to get big, after all. He also chugged the rest of his cider — it was only a cup left, and it didn't taste very alcoholic. Besides, his Constitution should prevent him from being a complete lightweight.

Actually, why don't I check my Ledger now?

Constitution: 1.21 {+0.01}

Acuity: 0.95 {+0.01}

Intelligence: 1.00 {+0.03}