The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

The messenger was merely a regular novice from the temple. Allen, Ianna, and Nenneke betrayed no unusual reactions and continued toward the gate. However, their quickened pace, dilated pupils, pressed lips, and furrowed brows revealed their unsettled state of mind.

Even Ianna, who had anticipated the truth, could not remain entirely composed.

The difference between "Hen Gedymdeith is in trouble" and "Hen Gedymdeith is dead" was like night and day. These were entirely separate matters, with far-reaching implications.

Power struggles, shifts in alliances, military strategy, and even the balance of strength among nations were all poised to undergo seismic changes.

On a personal level, the implications were even more terrifying:

If someone could kill the North's most powerful and ancient mage, Hen Gedymdeith, in Ban Ard—how could humanity ever hope to fend off the Wild Hunt?

The moonlight spilling over the world was now veiled by clouds. Even the lanterns failed to pierce the suffocating darkness, leaving an oppressive gloom in its wake.

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The group had just rounded the temple's holy statue when the old duke, hearing their approach, immediately hobbled forward with the aid of his cane. He disregarded the notion that Melitele was a goddess solely for women and hastened to meet them.

Catching sight of Allen at Ianna's side, the duke hesitated briefly before offering a weary, forced smile.

"Allen, are you healed?"

"I'm fully recovered," Allen replied. "By tomorrow, I can take on new contracts."

"Good, but don't rush the contracts…" The duke trailed off mid-sentence. His gaze flickered to the novice messenger.

"Talia, you may leave us," Nenneke said.

"Yes, Priestess Nenneke," the novice acknowledged and disappeared into the shadows behind the holy statue.

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As soon as Talia was gone, the duke turned to Ianna, his voice brimming with urgency: "Ianna, are you aware of the Wild Hunt's attack on Ban Ard nine days ago?"

"I'm not," Ianna said evenly. Then she asked, "But just now, Talia mentioned that Ban Ard is in chaos—Hen Gedymdeith is dead?"

"Those damned specters!" The duke's expression darkened. "After leaving Ellander, they turned their sights on Ban Ard. Those deceitful sorcerers suffered worse than we did. The entire city is gone."

He glanced at Melitele's statue, inhaling deeply as though drawing strength from the sacred surroundings to relay the grim truth.

"Except for the sorcerers and apprentices within the academy, every human soul in Ban Ard…"

The duke exhaled, steeling himself.

"Not a single survivor," he repeated. "Not one. Ianna, not even one..."

"Guards defending the walls, merchants, craftsmen, nobles—from babbling infants to toothless elders..."

"In a single night, nearly twenty thousand souls perished, all consumed by the flames those cursed fiends unleashed."

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A suffocating silence enveloped the sacred space before Melitele's triune statues—of maiden, mother, and crone.

The war-hardened duke's heavy breaths betrayed his fear and horror, buried beneath a façade of composure.

Allen stared at the ground, silent, his thoughts inscrutable.

Ianna and Nenneke, already aware of Ban Ard's destruction but not its magnitude, found themselves involuntarily clenching their lips, their gazes drawn toward the statues.

What a heinous crime this was!

Even hearing it secondhand, the carnage felt as though it loomed directly before them—a mountain of corpses and rivers of blood, the stench so overpowering it drowned out the temple's fragrant lilac and gooseberry.

Nenneke, her gaze fixed on Melitele's statue, instinctively considered suggesting a different venue to continue the discussion. She feared such gruesome talk might defile the sacred space.

But she dismissed the notion.

To do so would be a greater desecration—a betrayal of Melitele, the Mother of All Things.

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The silence lingered for some time, each of them grappling with the magnitude of the tragedy.

Finally, Ianna broke the stillness, blinking slowly. "You said Hen Gedymdeith is dead. Who relayed this news?"

"A sorcerer named Sunny," the duke answered.

At the mention of the name, Allen's ears twitched almost imperceptibly. He lifted his gaze toward the duke.

"Augusta—the royal sorceress of Ellander—told me he's a senior figure at Ban Ard," the duke added. "She mentioned that Sunny belongs to the academy's radical faction, known for their hostility toward the School of the Wolf."

His tone grew solemn as he looked Allen in the eye. "If you return to Kaer Morhen, you'd best warn Vesemir of this."

Noticing Allen's peculiar expression, Ianna and Nenneke furrowed their brows. The duke couldn't resist asking, "What's wrong?"

Before Allen could respond, Ianna scowled and answered for him: "Before we arrived in Ellander, Sunny sent men to hunt down Allen and Vesemir."

The duke raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"For no reason at all," Allen replied, shaking his head. "Simply because we happened to pass near Ban Ard. So, yes, you're correct. The radicals hold the School of the Wolf in contempt."

The duke fell silent, his hand absently rubbing the pommel of his black cane.

"Forget about it," Allen said, waving a dismissive hand. "I doubt Ban Ard has the capacity to concern themselves with witchers right now. Please, continue. Was the news of Hen Gedymdeith'… demise also brought by Sunny?"

"The hero of Ellander will always have her support," the duke said firmly, clapping Allen on the shoulder. He then resumed his account.

"Sunny did not deliver the news of Hen Gedymdeith' death. He came to us…" The duke glanced at Ianna. "Primarily to the temple of Melitele, seeking aid. He hoped to leverage Melitele's influence across the North to halt the mass exodus of Ban Ard's survivors and convince them to return home."

"Foolishness!" Nenneke snorted coldly.

Return home? More likely, they needed bodies to clear the ruins and rebuild the city—and likely at great cost to their lives.

"The temple won't agree to this," Ianna stated flatly.

The duke didn't argue; he hadn't expected otherwise. He continued: "His second request: to hire temple healers and herbalists, renowned across the North."

"And the third: he wished for Melitele's temple to mediate peace talks between Kaedwen and Aedirn."

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Having spoken, the duke quietly studied Ianna.

The cost of maintaining long-distance communication through a megascope was no small burden, especially over such distances. While Sunny's words were couched in the polished diplomacy characteristic of sorcerers, the duke was aware that Ellander's opinion mattered little to Ban Ard.

What truly concerned Sunny was Melitele's temple—and more specifically, Ianna's stance.

As for Ianna's response…

The archpriestess cast a glance at Allen, blinking slowly before answering: "The temple has never forced its healers or herbalists into servitude. Should they wish to serve a particular cause, they are free to do so."

That's a refusal… The duke glanced at Allen, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes.

As though no one knew how popular this witcher was among the temple staff.

Arthur and Sara—especially Arthur—had often heard reports from their subordinates.

Just last month, while treating city residents and soldiers, temple healers and herbalists had repeatedly inquired about Allen's heroic deeds during the May Festival.

Everyone knew how deeply sorcerers and witchers despised one another.

Why would anyone willingly volunteer to serve Ban Ard?

"As for the third request, let's set it aside for now. Tell me about Hen Gedymdeith's death first," Ianna shifted the topic. "Since it wasn't Sunny who told you, where did you get this information?"

"Alright," the old duke nodded slightly, organizing his thoughts for a few seconds before speaking.

"According to Sunny, Hen Gedymdeith is still in seclusion recovering from his injuries. Sunny claims he was simply nominated by Ban Ard to temporarily handle affairs..."

"But..." Ianna interrupted, "Just get to the 'but' part."

"I was getting to that," the old duke grumbled, tapping his cane on the ground in irritation. The solid floor beneath them bore the brunt, ending up with three or four small dents.

"But... Hmph... But not everyone believes that."

"The reason I came so late at night is that I was waiting for Augusta to gather more information."

"There are rumors within Ban Ard's inner circle. They claim that after Hen Gedymdeith unleashed forbidden magic to drive off the Wild Hunt, he was gravely weakened and then ambushed. Without time to manage the academy's affairs, he hurriedly secluded himself to recover."

"Then why say he's dead?" Nenneke asked, her curiosity piqued.

"Because of something that happened six days ago," the old duke explained.

"Sunny's faction, the Radicals, had been coexisting peacefully with other factions—at least outwardly—given the current calamity."

"But six days ago, in the dead of night, Sunny led a group of mages from his faction and sealed off Hen Gedymdeith's retreat, forbidding anyone from approaching."

"When the other factions suspected something was amiss and forced their way in, they discovered that Hen Gedymdeith's retreat had vanished."

"Vanished?" the three of them echoed in unison.

The old duke nodded slightly. "Yes, vanished. According to the source, Ban Ard's rector's office—which was serving as Hen Gedymdeith's retreat—was entirely excavated and gone."

"Afterward, Sunny used a simulacrum of the rector's office that resembled a far-seeing portal to claim that it was for Hen Gedymdeith's protection, effectively seizing control of the academy."

"Then Hen Gedymdeith isn't dead," Nenneke argued.

Ianna exchanged a meaningful glance with Allen, who also appeared deep in thought.

"Because, at the same time, a significant number of Radicals went missing as well," the old duke continued. "Around twenty of them. Not just mages from the intermediate council but also members of the senior council."

"Does it really take that many people to protect a convalescing Hen Gedymdeith?"

"Many mages in Ban Ard believe the Radicals attacked Hen Gedymdeith to seize power, resulting in the deaths of nearly twenty mages."

"Right now, they're holding back because they're uncertain of the truth..."

"Did this happen six days ago?" Ianna abruptly cut in.

The old duke paused, then furrowed his brow as he recalled. "Yes, six days ago, in the early hours. Is there an issue with that?"

Allen felt two pairs of complicated gazes subtly directed at him.

Feigning oblivion, he turned to the old duke and shifted the topic. "Is it possible that the missing twenty mages were dispatched for another task?"

The old duke fell for the diversion.

"Impossible!" His tone was firm. "Ban Ard has just endured a massive calamity. What task could require over ten senior and intermediate council mages?"

"The Wild Hunt is only scattered, and wandering threats still abound. Besides, these missing individuals were key figures in the Radicals. There's no way they fled."

"What's more, even Sunny and the remaining Radicals stammer and provide contradictory excuses when asked about their whereabouts. They clearly have something to hide."

"Of course..."

The old duke added a caveat. "We can't entirely rule out the possibility of factional rivalries deliberately spreading misinformation."

"But if it's true, I can't imagine any scenario where Hen Gedymdeith survives."

His reasoning was logical, well-supported, and thorough.

If Allen hadn't known better—having witnessed the deaths of those mages firsthand and recognized several of them from just days prior—even he might have been convinced.

Still...

Even if Hen Gedymdeith is alive now, under Sunny's 'protection,' can he really stay that way?

Allen had his doubts.

Although the "Source of Magic" experiment seemed to have failed based on the results seven days ago, some of the mages who died in that conflict were deeply involved in the project—chosen for their exceptional talent and painstakingly trained for at least two years under Hen Gedymdeith's direct guidance.

Hen Gedymdeith wasn't a heartless, ruthless individual.

If he recovered and regained power, would he truly forgive Sunny and the Radicals for their betrayal and the deaths of so many mages in pursuit of their selfish goals?

Unlikely.

Allen didn't believe it, and perhaps not even Sunny believed it.

Otherwise, why would they take such drastic action—seizing Hen Gedymdeith—at a time when unity against the Wild Hunt was paramount?

Their power, wealth, and even their safety depended on Ban Ard's stability. Did they not fear that Ban Ard might collapse because of this?

"Hen Gedymdeith has a nine-in-ten chance of dying at Sunny's hands," Allen thought.

Which begs the question.

With Ban Ard standing as the front line against the Wild Hunt, what will happen if they lose their strongest asset, Hen Gedymdeith?

Both the Wild Hunt and the scheming mages posed formidable threats.

Should he intervene somehow?

.....

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388. The Great Calamity Hidden in the Dark.

389. The Swarm of Ghouls.

390. The Mutation of the Monster Nest.