244. The Sword of Heroes, Balmur.
Like Vesemir's Ghilna, this was a sword that appeared quite ordinary. The pommel was just a black, spherical piece of metal, and the plain crossguard bore no decorations. The blade had no engravings, not even a fuller...
At first glance, the whole sword seemed like the work of a beginner blacksmith.
Looking more closely.
The edge of the blade had a few nicks, and the spine was marred with several scratches. It looked even less impressive than the new goods produced by an ordinary blacksmith. However, the squire's solemn demeanor and expression made it clear that this sword was anything but ordinary. Yet, what really held Allen's gaze, refusing to let him look away, was a certain feeling.
It was when the squire said, "This is a gift prepared for you by Mr. Radu," that the blade seemed to shift ever so slightly. It was as if a faint white light flashed across the sword's surface. But describing it in words was difficult—it felt as though this sword had always belonged to him, like it was made for him.
"This sword is called Balmur, Master Allen. Please take good care of it!"
Unlike the last two times, the squire didn't explain the origins of this sword in detail. After mentioning its name, he simply handed it to Allen. As if certain that the name alone would be enough for Allen to recognize it.
Unfortunately...
It was like casting pearls before swine. The young witcher truly had no idea what legendary tales this revered sword, Balmur, held. He merely took it absentmindedly, unable to come up with any words of praise. But because of the squire's tone, as if not knowing the origin of this sword was a great sin...
Allen could only stare blankly at the sword, pretending to be deeply fascinated by Balmur's simple and somewhat crude appearance.
He remained silent...
The cabin was soon filled with an awkward silence. It wasn't until Vesemir hesitantly spoke: "Is... Is it the legendary holy sword, Balmur?"
Hearing someone speak at last, the squire inexplicably felt a sense of relief. He glanced at Allen with a curious expression and solemnly said: "It is indeed the holy sword Balmur, the divine weapon of the legendary hero Zatret Voruta."
"This sword was blessed by the gods..."
"Countless evil gods, vampire lords, dragons... have perished beneath this blade..."
Zatret Voruta?
At the mention of this name, a lightbulb went off in Allen's mind.
Wasn't he the most legendary human hero chosen by the Law of Surprise?
"When Zatret was very young, he was given to the dwarves because when his father was saved by them and brought back to their fortress, the first person he encountered was his son."
That was how the original book described it, so Allen had some memory of it.
No wonder the squire had been staring at him with that odd look.
Zatret held a similar status in the Northern Kingdoms as Heracles in Greek mythology in the West, or the Monkey King Sun Wukong in the East.
What boy hadn't swung around a golden staff, pretending to be the Monkey King in his childhood?
However, Allen really didn't know much about Zatret.
The original book only had that one line about him.
In Kaer Morhen, time was tight, and most of the books he read were about monster studies and other specialized subjects. So after Zatret was chosen by the Law of Surprise, what legendary stories followed? Allen had no clue.
But now, none of that mattered...
"This sword is far too valuable!"
Though Allen was somewhat reluctant, he shook his head resolutely, trying to return the sword to the squire. This wasn't like Vesemir's Ghilna or Mary's 'Elinor's Alchemy Book'...
While both were expensive and valuable collectibles, they were also practical and within an acceptable price range. But if this really was Zatret's holy sword, Balmur, its value as a collector's item far exceeded a million orens.
Would someone give away a million orens just for a piece of information about a war that would soon be known to all?
Who would believe that?
There was probably some huge trouble hidden behind this!
So, after learning the origin of Balmur, Allen didn't even think twice and tried to hand the sword back.
A look of shock and disbelief flashed across the squire's face. As if he couldn't believe that any swordsman could refuse the holy sword of the legendary hero Zatret. Especially when the swordsman was only fourteen years old...
But then, perhaps remembering Radu Kuhn's instructions, the squire calmed himself and shook his head.
"Mr. Radu never takes back gifts, and you needn't worry about any trouble."
"Besides..."
"A gift is not a transaction, a gift is simply a gift..."
Having said this, the squire placed the sword and its scabbard on the cabin table, gently pushing them towards Allen.
His attitude was firm.
"Take it, Allen!"
Vesemir also urged.
After looking at the squire for a few moments, Allen hesitated before asking another question:
"What does Mr. Radu want me to do?"
The squire, who was over fifty years old, looked at Allen with a hint of admiration, then shook his head and repeated: "A gift is simply a gift."
"You may have the opportunity to work with Mr. Radu in the future..."
The squire paused.
"But don't worry, Mr. Radu knows about the School of the Wolf and respects its principles."
Hearing this, Allen had no choice but to accept the sword.
"Thank Mr. Radu for me. I like this gift very much!"
The squire smiled kindly, nodded, and said: "The Sword of Heroes has found its rightful owner, which is what Mr. Radu has always hoped for."
With that, he gave a slight bow to Vesemir, Allen, and Mary, and then pushed his cart out of the room.
---------------------
Clang!
The sword was sheathed and then drawn again. The cold light flashing in the cabin caused the temperature to drop inexplicably.
"Is this really the Balmur that once slayed evil gods?"
With Allen's permission, Vesemir, in awe, carefully examined every detail of the sword, from the pommel to the crossguard, blade, spine, and tip.
Even his newly obtained Ghilna silver sword was set aside.
"No wonder it's the holy sword of the legendary hero Zatret— even the nicks on the blade are so naturally perfect..."
Vesemir marveled.
Hearing this while pondering Radu Kuhn's true intentions, Allen couldn't help but roll his eyes.
Nicks on the blade, naturally perfect?
Vesemir, you're really stretching it...
But after a few internal grumbles, Allen turned his attention back to the newly acquired sword.
With a single thought...
[Name: Balmur]
[Type: Relic]
[Function: Cuts steel, slays monsters, pierces armor, dispels evil, destroys curses]
[Note: This sword's story is even more legendary than that of its owner, Zatret Voruta. And here's a little secret—Zatret Voruta was also a Child of Miracle.]
It's actually a relic...
Allen's blue cat-like eyes widened in surprise.
Weapons and armor were usually not identifiable, even items as valuable as Elsa, worth 17,325 orens. He could only appraise magical items, magic materials, potions, and the like.
Allen had previously guessed that it must be an item involving chaotic magic for an appraisal to yield results. So with this Balmur, he tried appraising it out of habit. He didn't expect it to work.
Of course.
Actually, the moment that harmonious feeling occurred, he had a hunch it could be appraised. However, due to its precious nature, he had refrained from appraising it, afraid that once he knew its true value, he wouldn't want to return it. But now that someone was insisting on giving it to him, he didn't need to be polite anymore.
After pausing for a few seconds on the "Type: Relic" line, he quickly moved to check its functions.
Steel-breaker, Demon-slayer, Armor-piercer, Purger of Evil, Luck Destroyer...
Compared to previous appraisals, this one was surprisingly brief in its function descriptions, leaving Allen itching with curiosity.
He was eager to stop the boat right then and head into the depths of the wilderness to test the sword on a few monsters. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he finally shifted his gaze to the last section.
"Zatret Voruta was also a child of miracles..."
He was stunned, his mind racing as countless thoughts flashed through in an instant.
"Clang~" Vesemir sheathed his sword, interrupting the young witcher's thoughts. "Allen, it's right for you to accept this sword…"
"Why do you say that?" Allen asked instinctively as he snapped out of his daze.
"When someone offers you something so valuable and you firmly refuse, it could damage your relationship with Radu Kuhn, or even turn him into an enemy…" Vesemir gently handed the sword to the young witcher. "Especially when there are others present…"
"To some important figures, face—or rather, honor—is more important than money or even life itself…"
Vesemir looked into Allen's eyes, earnestly sharing his wisdom.
"Master Vesemir, don't you think there's something wrong here?" Allen asked, puzzled.
Vesemir was silent for two seconds before shaking his head.
"I don't know…"
"And I don't need to know!"
"Why?" Allen's curiosity was piqued.
"Allen," Vesemir said solemnly, "we are witchers, and witchers of the Wolf School at that…"
"Our long-standing principle is to remain neutral, avoid politics, and only kill monsters, not people…"
"Even those who know little about witchers understand this."
"So, if someone tries to buy us off with valuable items, at most, they're just asking us to kill some particularly tough monsters. What harm is there in that?"
At this point, Vesemir paused, glanced at Mary, and then patted the young witcher on the shoulder.
"I know you've always had issues with the school's principle of neutrality…"
"But over the years…"
"This principle has saved the Wolf School witchers from many troubles, and it's been key to the school's survival until now…"
"Master Vesemir, I don't have an issue with the principle of neutrality…" Allen quickly defended.
"I know… I know…" Vesemir smiled, interrupting the young witcher, and sighed.
He looked out toward the deck.
At some point, the mist had dissipated, but the banks of the Pontar River were still gloomy and dim.
Looking up.
Layers upon layers of clouds blocked out the sun…
The sky was about to rain…
Vesemir sighed wistfully and murmured in a melancholy tone, "I know…"
"It's just… the times have changed…"
----------------------------------
After the somewhat heavy conversation, the Kuhn family's merchant ship had almost arrived at Beyer Most. They packed their things and prepared to disembark. Vesemir originally wanted to say goodbye to Radu Kuhn, but only the elderly servant came.
"Mr. Radu said he won't be seeing you off. He hopes you can create new legends with the gift he gave you."
The servant said so.
Although he said "you," Allen could clearly feel the servant looking at him far longer than anyone else. It was as if the words were meant for him.
Ernesto didn't appear either, seemingly staying with Radu Kuhn.
"By the way, may I ask your name?" Allen asked as he walked down the wooden steps and then suddenly turned back.
The elderly servant was startled for a few seconds, then smiled kindly and said, "Young master, my name is Nawaf Voruta."
"You can just call me Nawaf."
As he spoke, the wooden steps were lifted by the deckhands.
"Voruta?"
Standing on the shore, Allen was stunned and instinctively gripped the Balmo sword now hanging at his side.
After a few seconds, he suddenly looked up as if awakening from a dream.
At that moment.
The merchant ship had already begun to drift away from the shore.
Nawaf stood at the edge of the boat, gazing at them kindly. Radu Kuhn and Ernesto also emerged from the cabin at this time.
Radu Kuhn nodded toward them.
Ernesto leaned casually against the railing, smiling as he waved at them. The sun had risen high, though the clouds had yet to part, the mist had dispersed. The large ship, painted in amber-colored varnish, sailed away, its back to the warm spring sun, drifting toward the green ribbon horizon.
For a long time.
When the ship had become nothing more than a small shadow in the distance, Mary suddenly spoke.
"Don't you think something is odd?"
Vesemir tilted his head and asked curiously, "What's odd?"
Mary bowed her head, pondering for a few seconds.
"In terms of status, Radu Kuhn should clearly outrank Ernesto…"
"But it was Ernesto who was leaning casually on the railing, while Radu Kuhn stood a step behind."
Vesemir and Allen exchanged glances. Upon reflection, it did seem to be the case.
"Do you know Ernesto's last name?" Allen suddenly asked.
Vesemir and Mary fell silent. It was only then that they realized. Throughout their entire acquaintance, Ernesto had never once mentioned his surname or family.
But if he really was the master of mysticism from Oxenfurt…
Knowledge, materials, rituals, tools…
For an ordinary man who couldn't use magic to achieve such feats in mysticism, it would be impossible without some form of backing and wealth.
So then…
Who exactly was Ernesto?
"No need to dwell on it…" Allen interrupted Vesemir and Mary's speculation.
"Ernesto is our friend, someone who shares our ideals. That's all we need to know. His other identities don't matter!"
Vesemir was stunned for a moment, then burst into hearty laughter.
"You're absolutely right!"
"It doesn't matter who he is, as long as we know he's our friend!"
Vesemir put on his black wide-brimmed hat, mounted his horse with Royce in his arms, and said: "Alright, let's get moving!"
"The sooner we lift that cursed god's curse off Allen, the sooner we can return to Kaer Morhen…"
"There's still plenty of work waiting for us at Kaer Morhen!"
....…
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245. The Girl I Once Met.
246. Are You Really Not Planning to Tell Him About His Origins?
247. The Temptation of Immortality.
248. Yennefer's Talent.
249. The Light of the Little Monster.