Tissaia de Vries did not arrive alone.
In the shadows behind her stood another striking young woman—or at least, someone who looked like a young woman.
When it comes to sorceresses, no one dares to guess their age unless they say it themselves.
"Looks like we all have new guests who need introductions," Tissaia de Vries said with a half-smile, her gaze sweeping over Allen's face before landing on Danthe and the vacant-eyed Evenson. "Though, of course, some may not be guests at all."
"But let's begin with mine…"
Cutting off Vesemir and Danthe before they could speak, Tissaia stepped slightly to the side and brought the proud, sharp-eyed young woman beside her into view.
By the flicker of torchlight, Allen got his first clear look at her. Or rather, at this sorceress's distinct appearance.
She was dressed in a short, tailored men's coat, leggings, and high boots. A black onyx pendant hung boldly between the pronounced curve of her chest. Her sleek, glossy black hair was tied neatly at the nape of her neck. But what struck Allen most was her face.
Not because of her beauty—no sorceress was ever not beautiful—but because of her unusually bold features: thick, level brows and sharply angled eyes.
Her amber-brown gaze was intense and predatory, like a she-wolf sizing up a new hunting ground.
She looked even more arrogant than noblewomen of high rank—but this wasn't the kind of arrogance born of noble birth. It was the confidence of someone with true power.
Allen was certain he hadn't seen her during the campaign against the dark god. A face like that was impossible to forget.
"Philippa Eilhart."
The girl introduced herself before Tissaia could speak again. She lifted her chin slightly and swept her eyes over everyone in the hall. "I'm here on behalf of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers."
That was it.
With just that one sentence, she pulled her gaze away from the room.
She crossed her arms, pushing up the black onyx pendant, lifted her chin again, and began "admiring" the centuries-old murals on the ceiling of the Melitele Temple's meeting hall.
Representing the Brotherhood, she certainly had reason to be proud—and her intentions were now even more curious.
But what truly caught Allen's attention was her name—Philippa Eilhart.
Yes.
Allen knew that name. Philippa Eilhart was a prominent figure throughout the original Witcher storylines, appearing in the books, the games, and countless extensions of the lore.
Before the First Northern War, she served as royal advisor to Vizimir II of Redania.
During the war, she was one of twenty-two sorcerers who stood with the Northern Realms at the Battle of Sodden Hill against Nilfgaard.
It was she, alongside Redania's spymaster Sigismund Dijkstra, who orchestrated the Thanedd Island coup—an attempt to purge the Brotherhood of traitorous members like Vilgefortz who had aligned with Nilfgaard. That coup became the catalyst for the Second Nilfgaardian War.
After Vizimir II's assassination, she and Dijkstra effectively ruled Redania as regents.
In the third game, she was a storm-stirring presence—tutoring the ruthless future king Radovid V, also known as "Radovid the Stern," who would later turn against his own foster mother.
Philippa also founded the Lodge of Sorceresses, headquartered in her own Montecalvo castle, where she acted as its de facto leader.
During the Second Northern War, she used her dual influence in the Redanian court and the Sorceresses' Lodge to pull strings from behind the scenes, even steering the direction of the post-war negotiations.
It was rumored that in order to control the political landscape of the North, she was involved in the deaths of Demavend of Aedirn and Foltest of Temeria. Some even claimed that the assassination of her own king, Vizimir II, had her fingerprints all over it.
Ambition and conspiracy were Philippa Eilhart's very essence.
'So this is what the young Philippa Eilhart looked like—arrogance written all over her face.' Allen thought.
Having encountered so many legendary characters from the original story and the games, Allen wasn't exactly surprised anymore. Maybe not used to it, but far from shocked.
After all, ever since Yennefer appeared before him, he understood that as long as he lived long enough, every major NPC from the story would eventually appear, cross paths with him, and leave behind entanglements—conflicts or alliances.
Vesemir and Danthe weren't particularly surprised either. They didn't know Philippa Eilhart's future, of course, but they'd seen their fair share of proud mages who looked down on both common folk and witchers alike.
And besides, even though it was hard to judge a sorceress's age, they could tell Philippa was likely just a recent graduate.
Because older sorceresses—even if they looked down on others—at least knew how to hide it. Like…
"Apologies," said Tissaia de Vries with a sigh, glancing at Allen and the others. "Philippa didn't mean to offend."
After the brief explanation, she looked at Philippa with a mix of pride and indulgence and introduced her: "Philippa's skill in transmutation is among the best in the Brotherhood. Her illusions are also near perfection. If I remember correctly, she can already create illusions that include scent…"
"I can now generate tactile illusions as well," Philippa lifted her youthful chin, "and I'm currently working on modeling for taste."
"That's wonderful, Philippa!"
Tissaia's eyes crinkled with pride, her tone warm—almost grandmotherly.
Philippa didn't reply, but the pride in her expression was unmistakable.
Watching from the side, Allen couldn't help but feel a strange sense of dissonance. This proud girl hardly resembled the queen-like figure he remembered from the lore, and yet… the shadow of that future self was already there.
Tissaia continued, "Philippa is now a member of the Brotherhood's Middle Council. She's currently traveling between kingdoms as an inspector—tasked with monitoring and disciplining rogue mages."
Inspector of mages…
Now that was a position with real weight. It was typically given to young, powerful mages—those who still believed in the ideals of the Brotherhood and weren't afraid to challenge corrupt authority.
After all, older mages were often too tied up in political interests to act effectively.
And while the Brotherhood rarely sent inspectors into the strongholds of power—places like Ban Ard, Aretuza, or Rissberg—they would send them into smaller, more chaotic regions, where shady organizations ran unchecked. Still, even that often led to trouble.
Being assigned such a job meant Philippa Eilhart was undeniably capable—a battle-ready sorceress.
But for the witchers, that wasn't the shocking part.
What made the other witchers look at one another in stunned silence was her title—Inspector of Mages.
Because, well, wasn't that just the cruelest coincidence?
After all, it was rogue mages they had encountered just last night—one from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, and the other potentially from Ban Ard.
After finishing her glowing introduction, Tissaia casually gestured past Vesemir and toward Allen with a warm smile.
"Philippa, this is the one I told you about—Allen."
"The Griffin Knight… the Godslayer?" Philippa Eilhart's eyes locked onto Allen as she gave him a once-over, clearly skeptical.
That aggressive gaze made Allen uncomfortable.
He frowned and said, "I am the master of the Great Griffin, but as for being a Godslayer… I wouldn't go that far. I'm just—"
"No, you are!" The one who had been silently seated in the high-backed chair—Archpriestess Ianna—spoke at last. "You are a Godslayer."
"But—"
Ianna waved her hand to cut him off. "The gods, whether righteous or evil, are supposed to be immortal."
"To drive one from this world is to slay a god. Otherwise, where do you think those Godslayers from the past came from?"
Allen didn't argue further.
Philippa Eilhart, however, seemed intrigued by Ianna's defense of Allen. She lowered her arms and her eyes sparkled with renewed interest.
"And you're still leaving out a few titles," Ianna said, now turning to Philippa.
"Allen isn't just the Griffin Knight and a Godslayer and a Witcher Master. He's also a Knight of Ellander, and…" she paused, voice light but clear, "…the Holy Son of Melitele."
"What?!! The Holy Son? A Witcher?!" Philippa exclaimed in stunned disbelief.
No one understood the influence of the Cult of Melitele across the Northern Realms better than a sorceress—after all, even the Aretuza Academy operated within its reach. Yet Philippa's outburst was not reprimanded.
Because while the earlier titles only caused mild surprise from Danthe and Philippa, the moment "Holy Son of Melitele" was casually uttered by Ianna, the entire atmosphere in the temple's reception hall shifted. Even the three Witchers and both Tissaia de Vries and Philippa Eilhart went pale.
Only Nenneke, standing beside Ianna, and the dazed Evenson remained unchanged in expression.
"Holy Son?!" Allen echoed in shock. "Archpriestess Ianna, when did this happen?"
He had heard the term before—since Beltane, in fact, there had been whispers—but the weight of those words depended entirely on who said them.
Spoken by Ianna, Archpriestess of the Temple of Melitele, in the presence of Tissaia de Vries—the head of Aretuza and a major power in the North—it was essentially an official declaration to the entire Northern Continent of Allen's identity as the Holy Son.
If this moment were ever recorded in history, Philippa Eilhart's presence—there in her role as an inspector for the Brotherhood—would mark it as if the Brotherhood itself had witnessed and acknowledged it.
"What, you're still unwilling?" Ianna narrowed her eyes.
"No, of course I'm not unwilling, it's just…" The news was so overwhelming Allen didn't know what to say.
He looked to Nenneke beside Ianna for confirmation.
Nenneke nodded. "It's true. The temple council finalized the decision a few days ago. In another few days, we'll be sending official letters to the kingdoms of the North and to the major churches."
"Of course," she added, winking at Allen, "that's assuming you're willing…"
"Doesn't matter if he is or isn't," Ianna cut in, glaring at Allen with mock severity. "Someone who's received multiple divine revelations from the Lady herself, and who can even channel her power—what else would you call him but the Holy Son?"
Philippa Eilhart was completely stunned.
To be the Holy Son of a religious order—especially one as influential as the Temple of Melitele—was a title second only to… no, in some ways equal to or even above the Archpriestess. And considering the weight the Temple of Melitele held across the Northern Realms, its Holy Son was easily on par with the kings of Temeria, Redania, and Kaedwen.
Why did it suddenly feel like the Archpriestess was trying to forcefully bestow this title upon that Witcher named Allen?
Wait…
Divine revelation?
Did Allen really receive a divine message from the goddess?
Philippa Eilhart turned toward Tissaia de Vries in confusion.
Tissaia gave a subtle nod and transmitted her voice into Philippa's mind: "The first time, I only heard about it. But the second time, I saw it with my own eyes…"
"The goddess's power—warm, gentle, yet full of authority…"
"Once you've felt it even once, you'll know it beyond any doubt. That was the Mother of All—goddess of harvest, fertility, and birth…"
Tissaia gazed at the triple statue on the wall—the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone—and drifted into silence, clearly lost in the memory of that moment.
"I see…" Philippa slowly turned her eyes back to Allen.
That blood-soaked, grimy Witcher—he suddenly seemed to carry an entirely different aura now.
"But I… I'm a Witcher…" Allen was completely stunned.
"So what if you are," Ianna rolled her eyes, "Melitele's teachings never said a Witcher can't be the Holy Son."
Allen faltered for a moment.
Mother Ianna was definitely twisting words a bit—when Melitele's doctrines were written, Witchers didn't even exist yet.
How could something that didn't exist back then be included in the teachings?
"But the Holy Son is supposed to remain in the temple," Allen said weakly, "and Witchers travel the land, dealing with monsters."
"Melitele's Holy Son doesn't need to stay in Ellander. He can travel the land."
"Travel the land… Aren't you afraid I'll disgrace Melitele's name?"
"Would you?" Ianna blinked at him, her eyes filled with pride and tenderness.
"Would you ever shame Melitele's name, Allen?"
Allen was silent for several seconds, then sighed. "Of course not, Mother Ianna. But sometimes, things are out of one's control."
"Then it's not you who's wrong," Ianna replied firmly.
With Nenneke's support, she slowly stood from her high-backed chair and walked over to Allen.
Her aged hand gently brushed away a bloodstain hidden beneath his hairline, then slowly moved upward, letting a soft warmth seep through his scalp, washing away the exhaustion of the night.
"Then it's not you who's wrong, my poor child," she said, gazing at him with deep affection.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Allen felt completely lost and uneasy.
He had never encountered anything like this before.
Ianna's gaze seemed to pierce right through him—past the flesh, past the elemental blessings that had shielded him from sword and flame…
Leaving him exposed…
Completely defenseless.
...
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 30 advanced chapters of American Comics: Multiverse of Madness.
2. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.