The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

Allen watched the dimly lit lantern at the back of the carriage gradually disappear into the still, dark night.

This is indeed a gamble, he thought.

Compared to Ellander, Kaer Morhen is much closer to Ban Ard, with a direct distance of only two hundred kilometers.

While Witchers aren't as powerful in magic as Sorcerers, only able to cast simple signs, they are still considered extraordinary, and Kaer Morhen is the closest gathering place for such individuals near Ban Ard.

Would the Wild Hunt not have magic tools to search for such individuals? Allen didn't know, but it seemed unlikely. After all, even Aedirn had been able to deploy some simple tools on the borders to search traveling merchants.

If Hen Gedymdeith is dead, then they would have no way of stopping the Wild Hunt.

Twelve powerful male sorcerers couldn't even take down two severely wounded members of the Wild Hunt, so how could they hope to win?

Once Ban Ard is torn apart and destroyed, the Wolf School would be at the forefront of the risk.

In fact, it may not even require the Wild Hunt... No... No need to speculate...

Last month, they barely avoided the Wild Hunt when they crossed paths with it and were nearly hunted down by the magic user Vilgefortz.

With the support of the northern continent's nations and the power firmly held by Sunny and his radical faction, they would definitely take action against the Wolf School. Therefore, he had no choice but to gamble.

On one hand, Hen Gedymdeith, who had previously succeeded, was the only one among Ban Ard's leftovers who could possibly stand in the way of the Wild Hunt.

If preparations were made and all the powerful sorcerers, druids, priests, and warriors of the northern continent could be gathered before the Wild Hunt arrived, perhaps there was a chance to win.

And only Hen Gedymdeith had the prestige and position to gather such warriors.

On the other hand, he had a much better attitude towards Witchers compared to Sunny's radical faction. Thus, compared to the threat of the Wild Hunt, the hatred from Ban Ard would have to be placed secondary.

Moreover, letting two enemies tear each other apart could also be considered a form of revenge.

"Do you really think Hen Gedymdeith is still alive?" Ianna's voice broke into his thoughts.

"At least he should still be alive for now," Allen turned to face her. "Others may not know, but we both know that those dozen or so missing male witches are actually dead, most of them."

"Six days ago, in the early hours, Hen Gedymdeith was moved. It was Sunny and his group who were forced into a hasty action after losing so many members."

"They hadn't planned this thoroughly. Hen Gedymdeith wouldn't be so easily killed."

"You're that sure?" Ianna asked curiously. "Even with the long lifespan of a sorcerer, Hen Gedymdeith is quite old now. It's not unusual for him to die of natural causes any day, especially if he's badly wounded."

Allen fell silent for a few seconds before lifting his gaze. He happened to see the statue of the goddess.

The statue depicted a pregnant woman draped in light fabric, lovingly touching her swollen belly as she gazed down at him.

"Ten days ago, Vesemir and I fought a powerful magic user," Allen spoke softly. "His name was Vilgefortz. He was sent by Sunny to kill us, and it was he who turned Erni and other apprentince into statues."

"That battle was extremely difficult."

"Even though we ambushed him and I had the upper hand several times, Vilgefortz's self-preservation methods came one after another, and he was incredibly sensitive to danger. It was quite impressive."

"Ianna, Grandmother."

Allen withdrew his gaze and looked at Ianna and Nenneke. "Vilgefortz is very young—probably not even fifty—while Hen Gedymdeith is already over four hundred."

"One magic user under fifty is so hard to deal with, what about a magic user over four hundred who has reached the peak of power, wealth, and influence?"

"Sunny and his group weren't exactly prepared. I don't believe they could have killed Hen Gedymdeith in such a short amount of time."

"Considering Hen Gedymdeith' status at Ban Ard, there might even be great disagreement among the radical factions about the life or death of their leader."

"As for lifespan..."

Allen fell silent again.

In the original story, Hen Gedymdeith died of a heart attack during a coup on Thanedd Island, despite attempts to heal him.

The Thanedd Island coup probably happened in 1267, though he didn't recall the exact year. Right now, it was only 1180—there were still eighty years.

Of course...

Given all the changes the Witcher world had gone through due to his appearance, the future was shrouded in thick mist, and the already inaccurate details of the original story were becoming less and less reliable.

He didn't know how badly Hen Gedymdeith was injured ten days ago or if his heart condition had caused an early flare-up.

He wasn't a seer.

And even seers couldn't predict everything, or else Aen Seidhe wouldn't have been driven to the Blue Mountains.

"So this is a gamble, Ianna," Allen could only say. "At least, disregarding the unpredictable factor of lifespan, the chances of Hen Gedymdeith still being alive are greater, and based on my deductions, they are much greater."

"That's why we can't give Sunny too much time to settle the internal and external conflicts. Otherwise, Hen Gedymdeith is as good as dead."

Ianna nodded, extending her wrinkled hand to gently rub his hair. "Don't worry, I will support Duke Mason's actions in the name of the temple and demand the sorcerers hand over Hen Gedymdeith."

Allen's eyes immediately brightened. "Thank you, Ianna."

"We should be the ones thanking you," Ianna corrected him. "For the goddess' children, it's best that Hen Gedymdeith stays alive. It's you who revealed the truth to us."

"Besides, it's others who need to thank us," she smiled meaningfully. "We... are the true insiders."

Ianna didn't elaborate further on the topic of insiders.

Although Allen found the archpriestess' tone strange, he didn't dwell on it.

In some ways, if he weren't a Witcher, the Melitele Temple wouldn't be so focused on spreading the faith.

Having once communicated directly with the goddess Melitele and proven it through his actions, he was not only considered an insider of the temple but could even be regarded as a "son of the goddess."

In fact, one of the reasons Allen was so beloved by the citizens of Ellander was that accepting the goddess's oracle and saving Ellander had been one of the most important factors.

"It's getting late," Ianna looked up at the sky. "You still have to hunt monsters tomorrow, go rest."

Allen nodded, gave a brief farewell, and walked toward his small house.

To deal with the Wild Hunt and Sunny, there was nothing more he could do for now.

Though his fame was growing, decisions between nations were a whole different matter, one he couldn't interfere with—not at least for now.

For now, he could only wait for news from the Duke and Ianna before deciding his next move.

As for whether Hen Gedymdeith would survive...

That would depend on the magic user's fate, whether his life was strong enough.

Moën Village was like every other village in the North.

A low wooden fence surrounded it, next to a river, with a dozen or so thatched cottages within. A crooked sign was stuck at the entrance, marking it as a settlement of fewer than a hundred people.

Behind the village lay the sparsely wooded Mahakam Mountains.

This place was on the edge of the old Duke's lands.

The scent of cooking smoke was carried by the wind, and Allen stretched his stiff neck from the hours of horseback riding.

He had six experience orbs and one small orb left in his "pouch."

However, the "Eternal Ones' Memory Crystals" still had six pieces, and "Sorcerer's Memories" remained at eighteen, unopened.

Poverty made him hesitant to open the chests in front of him, leaving him sleepless through the night.

Before dawn, when the dining hall hadn't even opened, he grabbed some dried food and rode towards Moën Village.

He feared that if he arrived too late, Vesemir and the Witchers would already have set off.

Tracking was possible, but the winding mountain paths would slow him down.

It was very likely that by following Vesemir's trail, he would end up finishing a day's work and returning to the starting point after descending the mountain.

Poverty had forced him into early rising and early sleeping.

"Finally here," Allen sniffed the air and exhaled in relief.

The sky was gray, the sun still below the horizon.

So, the smoke was from the morning, and its strong scent suggested it wasn't the usual smoke from such a small village.

He hadn't arrived too late.

Riding down the hill, the horse's hooves trampled the tall dry grass.

He soon found a narrow path leading into the village, followed by a wooden bridge and the village gates.

The guards at the gates were unusually strict for such a small village, with four people patrolling.

Dressed in black armor and wielding strange long weapons that gleamed like battle axes, each one also had something like a fishing net hanging at their waist.

They were part of the Monster Hunt Regiment, though these appeared to be unfamiliar faces.

"Who goes there?!!"

Allen reined in his horse, and as he stepped onto the wooden bridge, two of the guards shouted in warning.

Before he could announce his identity, another guard approached, relaxed the stance, and muttered, "Two swords… it's fine… not a ghoul… it's a Witcher."

The remaining two guards stepped forward and lowered their weapons.

One of them scratched his head and mumbled, "Aren't the Wolf School Witchers already in the village? Why is another Witcher here?"

"Allen of the Wolf School, I'm here to find Master Vesemir," Allen dismounted and led his horse by the reins.

"Allen?" The guards were momentarily stunned before recognizing him, their eyes widening. They rushed up with excitement. "Blue eyes... it's Allen... it's our King's Witcher from Ellander, Master Allen!"

"That's right, it's me." Allen smiled gently. "Is Master Vesemir still in the village?"

"Here… here…" the guards hurriedly answered, their nervousness making them stammer.

Just then, someone from within the village came out upon hearing the commotion.

"Master Allen?!!" A deep voice called out, full of surprise.

"It's me, long time no see, Sir Sara."

"Long time no see indeed," Sara paused, then quickly walked over, "I heard from Arthur that you fell off a cliff while investigating ghouls. Are you alright?"

The fall from the cliff was an excuse devised by Vesemir and Ianna after consulting with each other for Allen's injuries. He had not participated in the fabrication because he had been unconscious at the time.

"I'm fine now," Allen replied. "The healing skills of the Melitele Temple are as renowned as they say."

"Of course," Sara said, puffing his chest with pride, "The best doctors and herbalists are in the Melitele Temple."

"Though, the best woman to marry is there too…" Sara paused and raised an eyebrow teasingly at Allen.

Allen pretended not to hear and coughed lightly, looking around.

Sara then noticed that the four guards were still standing there, ears pricked up and blatantly eavesdropping.

"Zander, Leo… what are you standing around like fools for? Go patrol!" Sara snapped, glaring. "Do you not want to stay in the Monster Hunt Regiment?"

"Yes, Sir Sara!" The guards quickly dispersed, though they glanced back at Allen every few steps.

They whispered among themselves: "Allen… that's really Master Allen… I didn't expect him to look so young…"

"Is the sword on his back the Elsa from the tavern songs? What's the other sword called?"

"Probably just a normal steel sword, right? I heard that Witchers in the Wolf School focus on silver swords for hunting monsters, not steel ones…"

"Ah, I thought the other sword had a legendary name too. By the way, do you know if the rumors about the Goddess choosing Master Allen are true?"

"How could it be false…"

Sara smiled apologetically and shook his head, clearly aware of his men's behavior. He knew Witchers had keen hearing, so he explained, "These guys are new recruits to the Monster Hunt Regiment. They haven't been properly trained yet. For now, they're just doing simple patrols and guarding duties."

"It's fine." Allen waved it off and then asked about the ghouls. "I heard from Duke Mason that many people have gathered here, and Arthur seems to have stationed his knights here as well."

"What's going on?"

Sara's face immediately darkened, and he seemed hesitant to speak.

"What's wrong?" Allen asked, confused.

"The ghoul situation is complicated," Sara scratched his thick beard, glancing toward the rising smoke from the village. "Let Master Vesemir explain it to you. Come on, I've forgotten to welcome you inside."

"You've arrived just in time. The villagers are preparing breakfast, and you'll get to drink hot meat stew."

"Alright then." Allen led his horse and followed Sara into the village.

From the outside, Moën Village seemed small, but the paths inside were wide enough to fit three or four horses side by side.

However, Allen was surprised to notice…

Despite the heavy defenses, there were no bodies or bloodstains from ghouls either inside or outside the village.

Even using his Witcher senses, he couldn't detect the slightest trace of blood.

This wasn't normal.

He had thought that Vesemir and the young Witchers had been stationed here for several days because the situation was dire, with many villagers being attacked and killed, forcing them to stay on guard day and night.

They had even increased the number of knights for protection.

But now, despite the heavy defenses, there was not even a single soldier from the Monster Hunt Regiment injured, which seemed very strange.

"The situation is complicated…" Allen mused on those words.

What kind of situation could make someone like Sara, who had faced the Wild Hunt and spirits attacking the city, call it complicated?

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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388. The Great Calamity Hidden in the Dark.

389. The Swarm of Ghouls.

390. The Mutation of the Monster Nest.

391. The Count!

392. Encounter with the One-eyed Dark God.