"Valeriu… Valeriu…"
The young Ban Ard mage jolted awake at the soft calling of his companion.
Before his eyes was the slightly blinding morning light, and the pale, dewy figure of Shaquiel, whose eyelashes, hair, and the lines of age were all damp with mountain dew.
Still groggy, Valeriu immediately realized that he was no longer on the soft velvet bed of Ban Ard's mage tower, nor in the city's newly opened pink tavern, filled with the scent of perfumes…
He was in Kaer Morhen, the ancient fortress, the sanctuary of witchers, a city surrounded by wolves…
And he was… on enemy ground.
A shiver ran through Valeriu's body, the wet morning dew dripping from the trembling tips of his hair into his collar. He shuddered again.
"Hiss—"
Gasping from the cold, he quickly covered his collar and awkwardly rubbed his stiff neck, stiffer even than the fallen maple leaves he leaned against behind him, saying,
"So… sorry…"
"I think… I accidentally fell asleep…"
"No need to think," Shaquiel raised an eyebrow, speaking irritably, "You did fall asleep. And you slept soundly, snoring louder and louder. You don't blame me for disturbing your sweet dream, do you?"
"No, no…" Valeriu awkwardly scratched his head and hurriedly changed the topic, "But is it already daylight? Why is a castle so deep in Kaedwen, at the very edge of the mountains, so heavily guarded?"
He tilted his head toward Kaer Morhen's still heavily guarded walls, burying himself a little deeper in the grass.
Shaquiel didn't mind Valeriu's clumsy change of subject.
After all, it wasn't really Valeriu's fault. Mages could stay up all night for research, experiments, or even amusement—but only if undisturbed, fully engaged, and in a state of excitement.
Here, however, every moment required vigilance to seize any lapse in Kaer Morhen's guard, and the accumulation of fatigue was far faster than usual.
Of course, Shaquiel himself was different.
A sorcerer skilled in tracking and divination, he often hunted rare materials for Hen Gedymdeith or secretly followed certain people. He was accustomed to high-intensity tracking and stealth.
Ban Ard had no dedicated stealth or combat mages, and expecting a young mage to follow orders perfectly without sleep was overly harsh.
Moreover… if not for his tacit permission, how could Valeriu have slept until sunrise? And if not for Valeriu's increasingly loud snoring, Shaquiel could have let him sleep a bit longer without worrying about alerting Kaer Morhen's guards.
It wasn't pity for Ban Ard's junior, but rather that a young mage's combat effectiveness fluctuated greatly depending on his state.
Having one less person to monitor was better than an extra burden in case of an unexpected event.
"Kaer Morhen's defenses are indeed unusually strict," Shaquiel said softly, nodding. "Guard posts, relief points, patrol routes… far more thorough than many border fortresses of Kaedwen, Temeria, or Redania…"
Valeriu relaxed slightly when Shaquiel skipped over the nap issue.
He looked up at the increasingly bright morning sun and then at the ancient fortress gradually waking with the sunrise, frowning: "The sun's up. The castle gates should open soon. Should we act then?"
"Too dangerous," Shaquiel shook his head. "Even if we could sneak in during the day, it would be hard to create a big enough disturbance."
"Sunny only asked us to test the war beasts for the Rissberg Group. There's no need to risk our lives…"
He squinted at Kaer Morhen's towers: "Let's descend the mountain for now, come back under the cover of night…"
"Some things can't be rushed, given how heavily the castle is guarded."
With that, Shaquiel crawled back several steps, then patted the stiff muscles of his thighs and calves to stand.
Valeriu followed suit and then casually asked,
"Do we need to notify Lord Sunny or the Rissberg Group about the delay?"
Shaquiel bent down to move aside some fallen branches and shook his head: "Lord Sunny is very busy—dealing with elves, resettling refugees, preparing the sorcerer kingdom, squabbling with other mundane and magical powers…"
"This little matter of ours isn't worth mentioning. We'll report back after it's done."
"As for the Rissberg Group…"
Shaquiel tilted his head toward Valeriu: "Let me give you some advice, Valeriu…"
Valeriu stopped, staring blankly at Shaquiel.
"You are a Ban Ard mage, not one of those 'merchants' from the Rissberg Group," Shaquiel said. "Remember your identity and your position, and you'll survive longer in this world."
Valeriu blinked in confusion and tentatively asked, "So?"
Shaquiel planted his feet, frowning, and scrutinized the clear-eyed young mage, his expression reading, Are you serious? How can Ban Ard still have such a 'naive' mage?
"Don't tell anyone…" Shaquiel muttered in frustration, rubbing his forehead. "Also, here's another piece of advice—don't meddle…"
Before he could finish, the howl of a wolf pack suddenly rang out, interrupting him.
The two Ban Ard mages immediately cast magical shields on themselves, following the sound of the howls, and froze in shock.
Hidden among the dense green trees, the gray-white towering castle rose like a giant from the mountains, and the wolf howls came from within it.
What was happening?
Shaquiel and Valeriu exchanged a glance, making sure they hadn't been spotted, and then crouched low, cautiously returning to their original positions.
They noticed…
Within the walls, gates, and battlements of Kaer Morhen, as soon as the wolf howls sounded, the guards vanished in an instant.
At the same time, clear shouts and commotion arose from inside the towering walls.
"This… is Kaer Morhen under attack?"
"There's no one outside the castle, so it must be a portal?"
Valeriu thought of the most likely explanation. His eyes lit up, and he excitedly asked himself and answered: "Yes, it must be, Lord Shaquiel. Without a strong enemy, how could a fortress so hidden in the mountains be so strictly and meticulously guarded?!"
Shaquiel didn't respond to the young mage.
He squinted silently, the empty doorway of the ancient fortress seeming to beckon like a dancer teasing atop a soft bed.
The opportunity they had waited for all night seemed to have arrived!—
"What is this?" Philippa Eilhart listened in confusion to the wolf howls echoing from the castle. Using her senses, she pinpointed a spatial coordinate not far behind Kaer Morhen's inner ward. "Some wild festival of the Wolf School celebrating the autumn equinox?"
"No!" Mary blinked, then excitedly grabbed Philippa Eilhart's hand and rushed out of the south tower. "It's an alarm—a magical alarm set by Lady Vera. Someone has entered Kaer Morhen through a portal!"
"We need to move!"
Philippa Eilhart wanted to ask if it was really something to be excited about that someone had intruded into Kaer Morhen…
But then she thought of the castle's current 'residents'—Archmistress Tissaia de Vries of Aretuza, the crimson Fox Vera, the dragon slayer Sol, Aristo, Vesemir, Danthe—and immediately understood Mary's excitement.
Even when Hen Gedymdeith was still alive, bringing Ban Ard mages here would not have been worth any advantage.
Indeed, there was nothing to worry about.
Even running breathlessly, pulled along by Mary, Philippa Eilhart felt a flicker of excitement.
Aristo, Vesemir, and Danthe, the three witcher masters of the Wolf School, aside, it had been a long time since Tissaia de Vries, Vera, or Sol had acted.
Let alone all three being present at the same time…
"Which unlucky soul…" Philippa Eilhart murmured to herself, "has angered Lady Fate and earned divine punishment?"
All along the way, witchers carrying longswords shouted as they arrived from all directions.
Philippa Eilhart noticed a very strange witcher.
The half-elf had long, sharp ears; though bearing the wild, bestial eyes typical of witchers, his pupils were a mixture of ink-black, teal, and faint purple, with a subtle magical glow emanating from them.
His appearance was otherwise plain, unfamiliar, clearly not any of the Wolf School's witcher masters.
Yet looking at him sent a chill through the heart, as if confronting a truly feral beast—Aristo, Vesemir, and Danthe, the Wolf School masters, could not compare.
The witcher, with his back to Philippa Eilhart, sensed her gaze, turned his head, and gave her a slight nod.
Who was he?
Since when did the Wolf School have someone like this?
Before Philippa Eilhart could respond, Mary pulled him closer: "Philippa, this is Master Jerome Moreau, a witcher master of the Griffin School…"
"Master Jerron, she is Philippa Eilhart, a sorceress of Aretuza and an inspector mage of the Sorcerer Brotherhood…"
A witcher master of the Griffin School… Philippa Eilhart frowned slightly.
As an inspector mage of the Sorcerer Brotherhood, she naturally knew a fair amount about witchers, and the Griffin School was the closest and most prestigious among all schools to the secular nobility.
She knew the names of all Griffin School witcher masters; among the ordinary witchers, many were well-known—but none were called Jerome Moreau.
"I haven't returned to Kaer Seren yet, so I'm not officially a witcher master…" Jerome Moreau read Philippa Eilhart's expression and gently shook his head.
Mary waved her hand: "It's only a matter of time."
Philippa Eilhart was even more puzzled.
What did "haven't returned to Kaer Seiren, so not a witcher master yet" mean?
Had he just hunted a large monster and not yet received his school's certification? But… how was that possible?
Philippa Eilhart did not doubt Jerome Moreau's identity or strength; Mary had no reason to lie, and the sense of pressure Jerome Moreau gave off far exceeded all witcher masters she knew, except for the dragon slayer Sol.
Yet, if he was so strong, he shouldn't only now be capable of hunting large monsters, nor should he have no reputation at all…
Before she could inquire further, after a brief nod of greeting, the three of them traversed a narrow alley, passed through the iron gate, and entered the ward beyond the city gate.
Unexpectedly, the ward erupted in no combat at all.
Tissaia de Vries, Vera, and Sol had already arrived before the three.
"Clang~"
The orange-red portal disappeared, revealing two disheveled figures, both familiar to Philippa Eilhart and Mary—Magic source Vilgefortz of the Roggeveen, and Lydia van Bredevoort.
They looked as if returning from a battlefield, clothes tattered, faces covered in dust and grime, the mingled scents of gunpowder, blood, and witcher sweat rising in the ward.
Fortunately, under Philippa Eilhart's observation, Vilgefortz and Lydia van Bredevoort had minor injuries at most.
The blood smell likely came from their dark sorcerer robes.
What happened?
Philippa Eilhart and Mary exchanged worried glances.
Vilgefortz was key to rescuing Hen Gedymdeith, yet before the plan was even enacted, they arrived in such a sorry state—this was not a good sign.
No—this was beyond a bad omen. Vilgefortz's plot must have already been discovered by Ban Ard.
Philippa Eilhart felt her heart sink.
Though she had refused the mission to rescue Hen Gedymdeith for Lado's sake, she absolutely did not want the mission to be exposed.
Northern sorcerers were already strong enough; once the Sorcerer Kingdom was established, it would further compress the living space of female sorceresses and also affect Lado's plan to restore Kaedwen…
Tissaia de Vries had clearly realized this. Seeing who emerged from the portal, the usually calm and elegant sorceress's face changed drastically: "Vilgefortz, Lydia, you… why are you at Kaer Morhen now… and in such… such…"
"Disarrayed?" Vilgefortz smiled faintly, though those around him could only see the hint of a smirk on his filthy face.
Tissaia de Vries froze, then nodded.
"Apologies," Vilgefortz glanced around and bowed apologetically, "we ran into some unexpected trouble; we didn't mean to alarm so many people…"
Tissaia de Vries realized there were too many people here to speak openly.
"They are not enemies now; disperse…" Sol waved his hand.
The witchers exchanged glances, curious but knowing this was not their business, and obediently left.
"Vilgefortz, Lydia, what happened to you?"
Not long after the crowd dispersed, Tissaia de Vries couldn't help asking.
"Was… the mission exposed and failed?"
"On the contrary," Vilgefortz didn't mince words, "under Allen's leadership, we have already completed the mission…"
"Oh," Tissaia de Vries sighed. "It's fine; as long as you survived, if the mission failed, we could still…"
"Wait!"
Tissaia de Vries looked up sharply, staring at Vilgefortz in disbelief. "What did you say?"
"Under Allen's leadership, we have already completed the mission…" Vilgefortz lifted a heavy object resting somewhat on his back and repeated himself.
That single action drew everyone's attention to the black-cloaked, humanoid-shaped object he carried.
Allen led… completed the mission… a black-cloaked humanoid object…
Tissaia, Vera, Sol, Philippa, Mary: ?
...........
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