The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"Griffin? What griffin?" Kurt furrowed his brows tightly.

Yor excitedly raised his head, feeling like he had found a glimmer of hope. "The people stationed in the village saw it. Those two mercenaries... no, Witchers, left the village in the direction where a large griffin flew up from the forest..."

"Wait!" Kurt suddenly stood up from his seat, interrupting. "You said you saw a griffin?"

"Yes, Lord Kurt. Many people saw it. It was in the forest not far from the village," Yor swallowed nervously and gathered his thoughts. "Those people must have been Witchers. There's no doubt. They must have gone after the griffin..."

"What color were the horses those two Witchers were riding?" Kurt interrupted Yor's explanation again.

"The horses? What color?" Yor paused, confused.

What a strange question.

They had searched the village early today, hiding in the inn and other villagers' houses, not witnessing the griffin's descent.

He and Khan exchanged a glance, thought for a moment, then hesitantly said, "I... I think they were two black horses..."

"Are you sure?"

Yor and Khan exchanged confused looks, not understanding why the focus had shifted from the Witchers hunting the griffin to the unrelated color of the horses.

But they weren't entirely sure, since they had been more focused on the riders, and at dusk, distinguishing between black, brown, and gray horses in just a few seconds had been difficult.

Khan cautiously suggested, "Should I... should I go ask? Our people are in the manor..."

"Go quickly!" Kurt ordered loudly.

Khan hurriedly ran out of the room, leaving Yor uneasy in the low-pressure atmosphere.

Especially when he noticed Kurt's expression changing quickly, showing a strange and complex mix of emotions—anger, shock, anticipation, and even a sense of narrowly escaping death.

The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his face, creating a chilling effect.

If Yor weren't used to this kind of work, he would have had trouble identifying the emotions on Kurt's face.

Was the color of the two horses really that important?

Yor was curious.

Khan would be a while, so the room fell silent, making Yor's heart race. After a second's hesitation, he cautiously asked, "L-Lord Kurt, is the color of the horses really that important?"

"Important?" Kurt looked up, smiling angrily. "It concerns your life, my future, and even the future of all of Aedirn..."

"Do you think it's important or not?"

"Huh?" Yor's mouth dropped open in surprise.

Kurt shook his head upon seeing Yor's reaction, saying nothing more, as he anxiously paced around the room.

The hot summer night air, combined with the flickering candlelight casting shadows, made the tension unbearable.

Deep inside, Kurt didn't believe that the delusions of King Demavend II would come true.

It had been nearly a month since the griffin attacked Wengburg. During this time, he had reviewed countless records and files of hunts against the griffins.

For six hundred years, there had been four hundred seventy-three griffins, and not a single one had ever been tamed.

But compared to being exiled to the front lines, the king having to abandon hatred and dignity to seek peace, and the inevitable revenge that Kaedwen would seek, he could only hope that the goddess of fate would show him a little mercy, just a little.

After pacing on the soft carpet for a few more circles, Kurt suddenly remembered something and asked, "By the way, why did the nine people suddenly become two? Have you investigated this?"

Yor quickly snapped back to attention, replying seriously, "The innkeeper said that yesterday afternoon, two people—one man and one woman—invited them to Vengerberg, and the seven young men didn't notify the other two Witchers..."

"Hmm?" Kurt stopped and frowned. "Seven sword-bearer mercenaries entered Vengerberg at this time? And they didn't notify their companions?"

"Yes," Yor leaned in and whispered, "There's definitely something wrong here. Also, there were signs of a large-scale battle on the road leading to Vengerberg, and after inspection, there was strong magic residue..."

Before he could finish, urgent footsteps suddenly sounded outside the door.

"Black horses... black horses... Lord Kurt, it's two black horses!" Khan, panting heavily, rushed in.

"Are you sure?" Kurt immediately stepped forward, his eyes shining with anticipation, confirming once again.

"Yes!" Khan nodded forcefully. "Nearly half of the people confirmed they were black horses. When they entered the village, those two Witchers were leading the horses slowly, so they definitely didn't missee it."

"Good!" Kurt shouted excitedly, slamming his right fist into his palm, then quickly walked toward the door.

But after a few steps, he suddenly stopped, pacing in place. He muttered, "Wait until tomorrow... no, I'll wait until tomorrow to report. I hope the griffin won't come tomorrow... no... that beast definitely won't come tomorrow..."

It was a while before Kurt suddenly remembered the signs of battle.

He turned to the two men who were standing nervously and instructed Yor, "Investigate the origin of the magic residue as soon as possible. I want to know who dared to act so recklessly at this time."

"Yes, Lord Kurt!" Yor immediately answered.

"This time, don't make any mistakes, understood?"

Kurt's voice was calm, but both Khan and Yor shivered under his cold, stern gaze, promising solemnly.

"Absolutely not!"

"Alright," Kurt waved his hand. "Hurry up and investigate."

Khan and Yor bowed and walked toward the door, but after a few steps, they heard Kurt's voice again.

"Also, make sure this matter stays confidential. No one is allowed to leak it without my orders!"

"Yes, Lord Kurt."

The two left, and the door was gently closed.

Kurt paced the room a few more times before walking to the window.

Outside the window, the starry sky shone brightly, with the crescent moon shining in the distance.

"Witchers... Witchers..."

"Unassuming minor characters on the stage, yet one day, they will be able to change the course of everything..." Kurt sighed softly.

-----------------------------

Melitele Temple.

The familiar black carriage stopped in front of the stone statue. The fire in the braziers on either side of the large gate burned softly, casting the shadow of a hunched figure holding a cane.

"Is that the old duke?" From a distance, Allen recognized the figure but hesitated to be sure.

Compared to a month ago, the old duke's once proud posture had noticeably aged.

Clop clop clop...

Hearing the footsteps, the figure facing the statue immediately turned around. "Ianna, there's news about the Wolf School... Huh... Allen? What are you doing here?"

The old duke, whose expression had been serious, immediately collapsed into shock upon seeing Allen behind Ianna... no, perhaps it should be surprise, even joy.

Allen smiled and took a few steps forward, about to greet him.

Ianna suddenly slowed down, her hand subtly squeezing Allen's left hand before speaking first.

"You can't say Melitele Temple doesn't care about Ellander. Though the Wolf School's matter has yet to be resolved, I've brought Allen here."

The old duke opened his mouth, but before he could speak, Ianna interrupted him, pulling Allen forward and praising him.

"The knight title you received was truly well-deserved. I only mentioned the current situation of Ellander in the letter, and your Ellander knights immediately rushed here without a word, faster than my messenger pigeon..."

Hmm?

Is he talking about me?

I didn't come here to break the curse, did I?

Allen widened his eyes in surprise and turned to look at Ianna.

Ianna pressed down on his arm with her thin, bony right hand and gave him a subtle wink, her mouth moving as she spoke: "Just now, he even told me that he wouldn't return unless he dealt with those lurking ghoul creatures... Oh, and besides himself, Allen even persuaded Master Vesemir to bring seven young witchers along..."

"Seven witchers!" Both the old duke and the knight captain of the Ellander Royal Guard, Arthur, exclaimed in unison.

The old duke straightened his hunched back instantly.

Although they didn't know the exact number of witchers in the Wolf School, everyone was aware of the high death rate in witcher trials. On average, each witcher school only had thirty or forty witchers, and even if the Wolf School had more, how many could it possibly have?

Counting Allen and Master Vesemir, Allen seemed to have... no, he must have brought the witchers stationed at their base with him.

What a huge favor!

The old duke instinctively exchanged a glance with Arthur, then took two steps forward with his cane, slapping Allen on the shoulder with fiery eyes: "Good, good, good! As expected of my Ellander's Blue Death!"

"If I don't give you this knight title, should I give it to those good-for-nothing men who are always lying around on women's laps?"

"You agree, don't you, Arthur?"

"Of course!" Arthur's face showed admiration and gratitude. "Sir Allen is the most knightly person I have ever met. Lord Mason's choice is as correct as ever."

Allen opened his mouth but didn't know what to say, looking at Ianna in surprise.

Ianna only smiled cheerfully, giving him a playful wink.

"Ahem~" Allen cleared his throat twice, forcing the witcher's control over his body to suppress the rising flush of shame on his cheeks.

He looked at the rare smile on the old duke's face and changed the subject: "Lord Mason, sorry, about the relocation of the school..."

"No problem!" The old duke waved his thin right hand. "As long as Ellander has you as a knight, that's enough. I'll discuss the relocation of the Wolf School with that old stubborn man, Sol."

The Chief... that old stubborn man...

Allen's mind immediately conjured the image of the Chief, who, although not young, was at most in his early middle age. Comparing that with the old duke's face, lined with the marks of time, it seemed odd.

But thinking of his age, that odd feeling disappeared.

Right.

The Chief has lived for centuries, while the old duke is at most sixty or seventy.

The school relocation issue was quickly resolved.

The old duke, gazing at Allen with an appreciative look, suddenly struck his cane on the ground with a loud "thunk": "Although Allen is one of our own, Ellander has never been the type to let our own people suffer."

"One drowner is two Orens, a ghoul is five Orens, a rotfiend is fifty, a alghoul is five hundred, and the price for other magical creatures and large monsters' heads is negotiable. We cannot let our knights lose face in front of their companions who came from afar!"

Allen was taken aback after hearing this.

A drowner's market price is 0.5 Orens, and it's rumored that because of the drowner infestation, the price has dropped by 0.1 Orens in the second half of the year.

Ghouls are also common monsters, priced around one Oren, and rotfiends and alghouls are priced several times higher than the market rate.

"Too much, too much!"

The inflated price was too high, and Allen didn't feel right accepting it, since they hadn't come specifically to help Ellander's crisis.

The old duke waved his hand again, cutting him off: "What's the point of keeping the money? Should we let the brave warriors who fight on the frontlines go hungry while the useless fools sit idle?"

Useless fools...

Allen felt that the old duke was implying something.

"Lord Mason, young Master Kieran was just misled by rumors," Arthur stepped forward and awkwardly smiled at Allen, trying to advise the old duke.

"Hmph~" The old duke snorted coldly, "A few kids who only know how to crawl between women's legs dared to defy their father's decision and lower the royal family's prestige."

"Isn't that what it means to be useless and brainless?"

"I only regret listening to that woman's words, not taking him with me to the battlefield. Instead, I let him mingle in the perfume-filled world and turn into the way he is now..."

"Ahem~" Arthur coughed repeatedly, signaling.

Only then did the old duke notice the unfriendly looks from Ianna and Nenneke.

"The happy days are here, so let's not talk about that ungrateful son," the old duke awkwardly changed the subject. "Don't try to persuade me; the reward amount stays as it is."

Allen thought for a moment, then stopped declining. He glanced at Arthur, paused for a few seconds, and said: "We're not familiar with the terrain around Ellander. Could you send a few more monster hunting squads to guide us?"

The old duke paused for a moment, then exchanged a glance with Arthur before laughing heartily: "Good, good, good! I'll have Sara pick the most elite soldiers. They won't slow you down."

"I'm a bit jealous of Sara. He'll be so excited when he hears this news, he won't be able to sleep tonight," Arthur laughed and shook his head.

"Let's let him find out tomorrow morning," the old duke smiled again.

With the business concluded, the old duke, Arthur, and Allen discussed the progress of Ellander's repairs over the next month.

Allen had a special connection with this city, one he couldn't quite explain, even to himself.

Perhaps it was because the first two cities he visited after descending from the mountain, Ban Ard and Vengerberg, left a bad impression, or perhaps it was because of the knight title and the "Allen of Ellander" title, or maybe because of May Day...

Who knows?

But perhaps because they all genuinely cared about Ellander, their conversation was enjoyable.

The old duke was no longer as serious and cold as when they first met; occasionally, he would curse loudly, showing his childlike stubbornness.

But as with all things, nothing lasts forever. As the night deepened, their conversation came to a close.

After Arthur finished saying something, there was suddenly a deep silence at the temple door.

Only the fire pit in front of the Melitele statue, in harmony with the chirping of summer insects, occasionally made a "bip-bo" sound, making the place feel even quieter.

However, Allen noticed that the old duke seemed to be staring at his face for some reason.

He was about to speak when—

"If only you were my child..."

The old duke stared blankly at Allen and suddenly sighed. "What kind of parents could be so cruel as to abandon such an excellent child and turn him into a witcher?"

Allen froze for a moment.

"Mason!" Ianna's face suddenly grew cold.

"It's late. You should go back now!"

.....

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359. How to Deal with Ban Ard?

360. Kaedwen, the Omen of a Fallen Kingdom?

361. The Continuation of the Path of Beast Roar.

362. The Legendary Hero of Ellander.

363. Flying to Ban Ard?