Tykha shifted the topic back to the unknown hermit, "Is that hermit alright?"
The innkeeper shook her head with a knowing look, "Someone returned to her dwelling afterward and found it reduced to ashes, and the venerable herbalist disappeared without a trace."
Tykha mused, it was logical that the hermit had fled to the nearby swamp tower for temporary refuge. The Penitent Spirit was likely the hermit after her death. As for those who harmed her, Tykha glanced at the drunkards slumped over the table; it would be clear once she figured out who hadn't been bothered by the Penitent Spirit.
Waving for the innkeeper to forget their conversation, Tykha turned to the witcher, "I recall you saying that Penitent Spirits only torment those who have done wrong. So, these people she spared are not targets for revenge."
Lambert's food had been cleared, and he leaned back lazily in his chair, resembling a well-fed feline.
"To retain one's sanity after becoming a vengeful spirit, this hermit is not simple."
Patting his stomach, Lambert rose and headed towards the market outside.
"I'm going to procure supplies. Do you need anything?"
Seeing Tykha shake her head, the witcher whistled and walked towards the market, leaving Tykha to enjoy the freshly served fruit alone.
The innkeeper hesitated, then as she refilled Tykha's water, she whispered, "Miss, please take your food back to your room quickly, lest those drunkards offend you."
The half-drunk lumberjacks indeed noticed Tykha alone. Seeing that the formidable witcher had left, they took advantage of their drunken state to jest with the beautiful noble lady.
Just then, the guard officer whom Lambert had threatened entered the inn with a young man. Seeing the fierce witcher absent, the guard officer's tension immediately eased.
He strode directly towards Tykha, who was picking berries, and unceremoniously sat in Lambert's former seat, haughtily commanding, "Where is that freak who was with you? I've brought the scribe to see him."
The guard officer's saliva sprayed like raindrops, landing on the plate before Tykha.
Tykha felt a bit nauseous and frowned at the fierce-looking guard officer. A glance from her caused his incessant chatter to freeze, as if bound by an invisible force.
"Since you want to eat so badly, have it then."
The plate was moved towards the guard officer, and an invisible force pressed his head down, smashing it into the plate full of blueberries. Blue juice splattered across his face.
The guard officer, unable to even move his eyeballs, repeatedly slammed his head against the table. Shards of the plate scratched bloody marks on his face, the red and blue mixing to form an indescribable purple.
Everyone in the inn was stunned. The drunkards immediately sobered up and quietly exited the tavern.
The young man holding the booklet was clearly more discerning than the lumberjacks. He took out a money pouch from his embrace and placed it on the table, pleading in a low voice, "Esteemed sorceress, please forgive Old Boko's offense. The two hundred and fifty crowns you require are all here, not a single bit is missing. Do not let Old Boko's blood stain your hands. If a life is taken and the Temple Knights hear of it, it will bring you trouble."
Looking at Old Boko, whose collar was soaked in blood, Tykha said, "Young man, tell me your name."
"Hol, my name is Hol."
The young scribe was a little nervous and added, "Please rest assured, we will not report you. As long as you spare Old Boko, I guarantee you will leave here safely."
"Whatever your companion took does not need to be returned. Please consider it a gift from Old Boko to you. No matter how long you stay or how much you buy, I will ensure they offer you the most favorable discounts."
Old Boko's eyes, unable to move, were filled with terror and pleading. Only then did Tykha release her control over him and ask with a cold face, "Tell me, is the hermit living in the forest still alive?"
"She killed those Temple Knights and escaped. We only managed to burn their bodies. We know nothing else!"
The terrified guard officer blurted out everything he knew, lowering his head and not daring to meet Tykha's gaze.
The lie detection magic returned a positive confirmation. Tykha got up and went upstairs, leaving behind a sentence: "Gather all the lumberjacks in your town who haven't encountered the Penitent Spirit. If I don't see them by tomorrow morning, you will remain like this forever."
Old Boko then realized his mouth had disappeared and immediately rushed out of the inn, summoning his soldiers to gather all the lumberjacks. The voiceless Old Boko gesticulated wildly, but his soldiers couldn't understand him. It was the scribe Hol who conveyed the order on his behalf.
When Lambert returned to the inn carrying potatoes, carrots, and other storable vegetables and cured meat, the innkeeper returned the payment from the witcher to him, unchanged.
This surprised the witcher, who rarely received good treatment from villagers. Witchers had a bad reputation. Ever since the Cat School witchers participated in political struggles and assassinated a king, witchers like them were overcharged even for a piece of clothing.
Upon reaching the room, Lambert asked Tykha, "What did you do? Those people looked like they wanted to disappear into the ground."
After learning the reason, the witcher shrugged and explained to Tykha, "The kings of the Northern Kingdoms have a tradition of appointing sorceresses as advisors, especially female sorceresses. Their influence can sway the king's will. After the Thanedd Island coup, powerful sorceresses from both the north and south formed alliances and gatherings. They protected and preserved the interests of magic in this world at all costs, prioritizing this goal even above their duty to their respective countries."
"They believe you are a sorceress, and sorceresses generally have bad tempers. Dealing with them is not a simple matter. I bet they won't care about the Penitent Spirit now. Making you satisfied is their primary task."
Tykha had no interest in wasting too much time on this. Since the Penitent Spirit didn't indiscriminately kill innocents, it wasn't something that absolutely had to be eliminated.
The witcher went into the bathroom to clean his armor, which was almost unrecognizable in its original color. The innkeeper brought him hot water several times before he finished.
After a refreshing hot bath, Lambert, who reappeared before Tykha, looked much cleaner, at least not smelling anything foul.
Tykha's fingers moved slightly, and the wolf medallion hanging on Lambert's chest trembled. It detached from its owner and fell into Tykha's hand.
"An interesting little thing. Was this created by your mentor?"
The witcher tilted his head, recalling, "No, these medallions were passed down from witchers before Vesemir. During the peak of Kaer Morhen, there were sorcerers stationed there. Perhaps these are their works."