The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

After listening to the Duke's account of the sources and speculation surrounding Hen Gedymdeith's fate, Ianna glanced at Allen once more but refrained from further comment.

"What's Goidemar's take on this?" she shifted the topic. "And the nobles?"

"The king and the nobles of Vizima are in favor of peace talks."

"Goidemar agreed so readily?" Ianna raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Didn't even take a few days to let the sorcerers sweat it out? That's unlike him."

The Duke's expression darkened.

He gave a cold snort. "What Sunny presented to the kings was a different version of events."

"Sunny's exact words were: If the war between Kaedwen and Aedirn continues, the severely weakened Ban Ard may be forced to consider relocating the academy…"

"He dared threaten the kings?" Ianna was taken aback.

Hen Gedymdeith had driven off the Wild Hunt at Ban Ard, which logically meant that if the Hunt were to return, they'd likely seek vengeance on the academy. But if the sorcerer academy were to relocate, where would the Hunt's wrath spill over?

"He certainly dared," the Duke replied. "And placing peace negotiations on one side of the scale and the Wild Hunt's threat on the other? The latter outweighs the former by leagues."

Flotsam and Ellander—one a prosperous trading port, the other a critical revenue hub for Temeria.

The threat of the Wild Hunt wasn't just something the Duke and the people of Ellander understood. The King of Temeria, who had narrowly escaped the May Massacre, likely felt it keenly as well. And since peace negotiations primarily impacted Aedirn's interests, what reason did Temeria have to refuse?

"What's your stance, then? Does the temple support the peace talks?" the Duke asked.

Goidemar's agreement was just one piece of the puzzle Ban Ard required. They needed the kings of the Northern Realms to unite for this to hold weight. But the stance of the Melitele temple carried a different kind of significance entirely.

Whether peasant, soldier, merchant, noble, or king, all had mothers and wives. And in the hearts of the women of the Northern Realms, the Temple of Melitele held unparalleled sway.

To put it bluntly—at least 80% of the women in the North were Melitele's faithful.

Moreover, because the temple-trained healers and herbalists were widespread across the continent, even among men—especially soldiers and commoners—Melitele had a strong following.

Thus, Ianna's stance alone could influence the Kaedweni-Aedirnian war as much as all the kings of the North combined.

"The temple has always refrained from meddling in politics and war, but…" Ianna hesitated for once, frowning and pressing her lips before continuing, "The Wild Hunt poses too great a threat. At this time, an internal conflict is far too dangerous for Melitele's children."

The Duke gave a slight nod.

He himself leaned toward peace—or rather, there wasn't a single soul in Ellander who had survived the May Massacre that didn't want revenge.

Although he greatly admired Allen, he also feared Ianna's fondness for him might cloud her judgment.

Thankfully, Ianna always considered the bigger picture.

The Duke had just let out a sigh of relief when he noticed Ianna glancing at Allen, who was lost in thought. His heart sank.

"What do you think, Allen?" she shifted the conversation, her tone soft. "Should the temple involve itself in bringing peace between Kaedwen and Aedirn?"

"Huh?"

Allen looked up in confusion and pointed to himself. "Me?"

"Exactly," Ianna said, smiling and nodding.

"This is a matter for the temple. I'm just a witcher of the Wolf School—surely I'm not qualified," Allen stammered, hesitant.

"What nonsense is that?" Ianna chuckled lightly. "There's no talk of qualifications. I'm only asking for your thoughts."

"What's the matter?"

"We've treated your injuries for seven whole days, with Lysa by your side constantly. And now you won't even share your opinion with us?"

"Of course, I will!" Allen sighed wryly.

With all exits blocked, refusing to say something might indeed paint him as ungrateful. He fell silent briefly to gather his words.

Under the Duke's watchful, somewhat complex gaze, Allen finally spoke in a low voice. "The question of whether the temple should mediate peace isn't the crux of the matter."

"Then what is?" Ianna pressed.

Both the Duke and Lysa fixed curious eyes on him.

Allen drew a deep breath and said seriously, "The real issue is—even if the war between Kaedwen and Aedirn ends—can Ban Ard, under Sunny's leadership, truly fend off the Wild Hunt?"

The Duke's brows immediately furrowed at the question, his hands tightening on his cane.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"You just said it yourself, Your Grace. It was Hen Gedymdeith who cast a forbidden spell to drive off the Wild Hunt."

"That's correct," the Duke affirmed.

Allen continued his explanation. "I don't know much about Sunny and his radical faction's strength, but Hen Gedymdeith only managed to repel the Wild Hunt at great personal cost, even when most of Ban Ard's sorcerers were unscathed prior to the attack."

"Now, with Hen Gedymdeith reportedly dead, Ban Ard has suffered heavy casualties from the Hunt's attack. Moreover, if Sunny's actions have truly sparked severe infighting among the academy's factions…"

"How can Ban Ard possibly serve as the shield for the Northern Realms?"

The night wind swept through the divine avenue, carrying a faint yet piercing whisper as it passed through the void and flickering candlelight.

"And what if it can't, Allen?"

After a long silence, the Duke frowned deeply. "Even if Ban Ard is weak now, it remains the only viable bulwark for the kingdoms."

"The Wild Hunt marches through the skies. Who but the sorcerers can stand against them?"

"Forgive my bluntness, Allen," he said, locking eyes with the witcher. "You're the most formidable and resourceful witcher I've ever met."

"You slay wraiths feared by mortals as effortlessly as others might kill hares. Griffins, ice giants, cyclopes, alghouls—your list of feats is staggering for one so recently initiated as a witcher."

"But even you, Allen—when the Wild Hunt's hooves darkened the skies above Flotsam and Ellander, all you could do was run."

Ianna and Nenneke exchanged subtle glances but remained silent.

"If we agree to Sunny's terms, we might still have a rusted shield. If we refuse, Ban Ard will collapse entirely, and who knows which kingdom those beasts will ravage next?"

"Fear of the unknown will only sow chaos, plunging nations into disarray. At least Sunny might buy us time."

"If we accept his deal, the largest and strongest faction of Ban Ard sorcerers will stay. We can bind them with ancient pacts and force them to stand as our shield. To buy us precious time."

"Hen Gedymdeith is dead. Even a flawed shield is better than facing the gleaming blade of death bare-chested."

The old duke's voice was aged and hoarse, yet strong and commanding. But Allen could sense the bitter despair and helplessness in it.

He took a deep breath and exchanged a glance with Ianna before speaking softly, "What if Hen Gedymdeith isn't dead?"

"What do you mean?"

The old duke's brows tightened like rough, damp burlap being twisted, his face full of wrinkles.

"Did you not hear what I said just now? Nearly twenty sorcerers disappeared in a single night, and Sunny's faction is being evasive about it. They even went so far as to prevent the other witchers from seeing where Hen Gedymdeith was in seclusion. There must have been some conflict. Even if Hen Gedymdeith wasn't killed, he certainly sustained serious injuries."

Of the four people standing here, three of them had received their information from him. Why would Allen come to the conclusion that "Hen Gedymdeith isn't dead"?

To be honest, he was growing somewhat impatient.

If it weren't for his generally positive impression of Allen, and the fact that Allen had traveled all the way here for the sake of Ellander—arriving and immediately going out to scout ghouls in the night, which led to his accidental fall and injury—he would have already shut the young man up to avoid influencing the position of the Melitele temple.

It was truly strange. Why was Ianna so special with Allen?

"I'm not against the peace talks," Allen said. "I agree that peace should be pursued, but when and how we pursue it shouldn't be rushed."

"This should be a bargaining chip with greater potential."

"A bargaining chip with greater potential..." The old duke repeated the phrase, raising an eyebrow. "Go on..."

"First of all, Hen Gedymdeith's presence is worth an entire academy—not just because of his power, but rather because without him, unless the other four members of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art can take his place, Ban Ard will inevitably fall apart."

"But Hen Gedymdeith..."

"I know," Allen interrupted. "The chances of Hen Gedymdeith being dead are high, but it's still possible he's alive. He is the most powerful mage in the world; how could he not have made any preparations before entering seclusion?"

"As for those nearly twenty missing sorcerer..."

Allen, of course, knew where they had gone. More than half had become his "memories" and "treasures."

"I don't know how they disappeared," Allen said, shaking his head as if unconcerned with the curious looks from either side, his face unchanged, "but with Hen Gedymdeith, the most powerful mage in the North, who has even repelled the Wild Hunt, plus a more intact Ban Ard academy, I think it's worth taking the gamble."

The old duke lowered his head and pondered for several seconds.

The mountain wind blew in from the Mahakan Mountains, the howling wind cutting through the night.

"And how do you plan to gamble?" The old duke asked faintly.

Allen replied, "Since Sunny said Hen Gedymdeith is in seclusion healing, we use peace talks as leverage to force them to reveal Hen Gedymdeith, living or dead. We demand to see him in person, and he must be revealed in front of the other factions of Ban Ard."

"Otherwise, once the kings of the Northern Continent and Ianna agree to Sunny's request and back his actions in Ban Ard, causing the situation to stabilize..."

"Those who might still be alive will truly be dead."

The old duke fell silent again for a few seconds.

"This is a gamble that could cost us everything," he said, his face expressionless. "If Hen Gedymdeith has already been killed by Sunny, the pressure from the kings and nobles could cause a full-scale faction war in Ban Ard, and it would be the bloodiest kind."

"Even if Hen Gedymdeith isn't dead, Sunny's faction could easily kill him out of spite."

"That's what gambling is, isn't it? There's winning, and there's losing," Allen sighed. "But for the most powerful figure in the North, the one with the greatest influence in the Order of Sorcerers, and who even repelled the Wild Hunt—he's worth the risk, don't you think?"

"Besides..."

He looked the old duke in the eye.

"Threatening them directly was just a crude idea I came up with on the spot. I'm sure the king's advisors and nobles can find a way to minimize the risks."

The old duke stared into Allen's eyes, and Allen did not back down.

After a long silence...

The old duke took a deep breath and shook his head, almost with a sigh of relief. "I never knew my knight was such a reckless gambler."

"Every witcher is a natural gambler, Lord Mason," Allen smiled. "Every battle is a bet on the table of fate, with our lives as the stakes."

Hearing this, the old duke looked at Allen's youthful face, younger than even his youngest daughter's, and remained silent for a long time.

Until...

"Have you two forgotten about us?"

Ianna's smile broke the silence in front of the Melitele altar.

"Don't forget, on this table, we are the ones with the most abundant capital."

She tousled Allen's hair, the warmth of her hand massaging his scalp, soothing him.

Then, with a couple of light coughs from Nenneke, she quickly embraced Allen warmly, leaving him a little bewildered.

"Now that the richest gamblers are at the table, I suppose I don't have much of a choice," the old duke chuckled helplessly. "Unfortunately, I can't make the final call on this matter."

"However..."

He turned to Allen, his face serious.

"But I will inform King Goidemar of Temeria of your thoughts as soon as possible. As for whether the other kings and nobles will join the table, that is beyond my control."

"No problem!" Allen shook his head.

From the old duke's tone, it seemed he could convince the king of Temeria. If the most powerful nation in the North, Temeria, approved of his idea, most other nations would likely follow suit.

"Alright," the old duke pulled his staff from the earth. "It's getting late, and Allen is still injured, so I won't stay long."

With that, the old duke turned and began walking toward the carriage.

At that moment, Allen suddenly remembered something he had to do tomorrow and hurriedly asked, "Lord Mason, do you know where Vesemir and the others will be tomorrow?"

The old duke turned. "Won't you rest a bit?"

"No, I've recovered."

The old duke nodded without much thought and answered, "In the village of Moen, three kilometers south of Ellander. You can go directly there tomorrow. Master Vesemir seems to have encountered some difficulties."

"Difficulties?"

"I'm not sure about the specifics," the old duke shook his head. "But Arthur and Sara went there yesterday."

"I understand."

The old duke glanced at Allen, seeing that there were no further questions, then turned and slowly walked toward the carriage.

Just as he passed through the gates of the Melitele temple, the old duke suddenly stopped.

"Truly a gamble of a lifetime!"

He gazed at the distant lights flickering down the mountain and sighed softly.

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)

387. The Anomaly at Moën Village.

388. The Great Calamity Hidden in the Dark.

389. The Swarm of Ghouls.

390. The Mutation of the Monster Nest.

391. The Count!