227. What is a Killer Whale?
"My name is Dyson, from Toussaint. I'm currently a private tutor..."
Private tutor...
Vesemir's mind stirred.
Being a private tutor on the Northern Continent is no ordinary profession. Common folk certainly couldn't afford one. Vesemir carefully observed the Dyson standing before him.
Handsome, well-mannered, with a dignified aura. And hailing from the knightly land of Toussaint...
Anyone who could afford such a tutor must be a wealthy noble. And private tutors for high-ranking nobles usually did more than just teach. They often got involved in local political affairs, and due to their close relationship with the noble family or future heirs, they usually held a higher status than ordinary lesser nobles.
Vesemir made his judgment.
But with his own status, he didn't feel the need to curry favor. He gave Allen a look, signaling for him to come over, and then patiently listened to Dyson's reason for coming.
After a brief introduction, Dyson's eyes swept around and suddenly noticed the wolf medallion hanging from Vesemir's chest. He immediately showed deep respect and said: "So, you're a Witcher of the Wolf School. No wonder you were able to kill such a powerful monster."
"In Toussaint, ever since I was a child, my mother told me stories of the Wolf School…"
"On the peaks of the northern, towering snow mountains, there is a fortress that houses the most powerful Witchers in the world…"
"They walk the path of honor and never bully the weak…"
The praise from someone from Toussaint made Vesemir instinctively puff out his chest with pride. At this moment, Allen arrived with Mary. Seeing the earnest, almost fanatical expression on Dyson's face, Allen felt both a sense of pride and a bit of discomfort.
Since coming down from the mountain. This was the first time he had heard such praise for his School from an ordinary person.
"Werewolves, vampires, cyclops, even dragons…"
"No matter how ferocious the monster, they all fall under the silver sword…"
Dyson, overwhelmed with excitement, stepped forward and grabbed Vesemir's hand, saying: "To think I'd be fortunate enough to witness a Wolf School master hunting a royal griffin with my own eyes today…"
"This trip has been more than worthwhile, more than worthwhile indeed!"
Who would've thought they'd run into a Wolf School superfan from Toussaint?
Feeling a little awkward, Vesemir forced a couple of laughs and discreetly pulled his hand away. Shaking his head, he said: "Perhaps you didn't see clearly earlier. It wasn't me who killed the royal griffin…"
Vesemir pulled Allen over, patting him on the shoulder as he introduced him: "Allen, the youngest Witcher master in the history of the Wolf School. It was he who killed the royal griffin just now."
"Also, what brings you here? Do you have a contract for us?"
Upon hearing this, Dyson instinctively glanced at Allen, whose youthful face was smeared with dust and blood. His expression shifted from confusion to astonishment.
"Master... Allen?"
Dyson's tone carried a hint of uncertainty.
He turned to look at the massive corpse of the royal griffin, which was as large as a small mountain, and then back at the youthful Allen. He could tell the difference between a griffin and a royal griffin, indicating a solid understanding of monster lore. This only made him more aware of the difficulty in hunting a royal griffin.
So...
When he had approached earlier, even though he had seen this young Witcher named Allen standing closer to the royal griffin than the older Witcher...
He had instinctively assumed it was the older Witcher who had slain the beast.
Who... who would've thought it was really him!
He... he's not even sixteen, is he?
Allen was somewhat familiar with the role of a private tutor, understanding that Vesemir was helping him "expand potential clients."
So, he didn't say much, simply nodding before asking again: "May I ask what brought you here? Do you have a contract?"
At this point, Dyson snapped out of his daze. He smiled apologetically, seemingly regaining his composure, though the lingering shock in his eyes was hard to hide: "My apologies. Master Allen's age and strength are truly surprising."
Vesemir and Allen both lightly shook their heads, signaling for him to continue. Dyson cleared his throat and said: "The reason I came here is partly to thank you for saving our lives."
"If it hadn't been for you drawing the royal griffin away in time, everyone in the caravan would have been killed by the beast…"
Vesemir and Allen didn't respond to this part. They both knew the real reason was yet to come.
As expected...
After a brief pause, Dyson pointed toward the nearby road. There, a group of people had gathered—some were helping those who had fainted regain consciousness, while others were setting the overturned carts upright.
In front of the carts were the corpses of two horses, their bodies mauled by the royal griffin. It was the caravan that had been attacked earlier by the griffin!
There's something off!
Vesemir and Allen exchanged a glance.
"The caravan that was attacked by the royal griffin is the one that hired me as a private tutor…" Dyson's tone hesitated slightly, "Uh... my student sent them to pick me up."
"You two are professional Witchers, so you surely know that royal griffins typically hunt deep in the mountains."
"Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't attack a caravan traveling near a human city, so..."
"You want us to investigate why the royal griffin attacked your caravan?" Allen cut in.
Though Dyson still felt strange looking at Allen's especially young face, he didn't let it show. He shook his head and said: "We're in a hurry to get to Kaedwen. We don't have time to stay here and search…"
"We just want to know if this attack was really an accident…"
"Of course…"
"If you can find out the cause and source quickly, that would be even better!"
Before the two Witchers could reply, Dyson hesitated for a few seconds and then added: "I understand that Witchers charge for their services."
"How about 1,000 orens?"
"And if you find the cause, I can add another 200 orens."
Dyson paused and looked at the two Witchers.
"Deal."
Allen didn't hesitate, glancing at Vesemir before nodding in agreement. None of them mentioned the fee for saving lives. Both Witchers knew that the 1,000 orens was essentially a payment for saving the caravan. They just gave it a more acceptable label.
After all, just investigating the caravan wouldn't cost more than 20 orens, even considering Vesemir and Allen's status as master Witchers.
"Please, follow me."
Seeing Allen accept the contract, Dyson smiled and led the way. As Allen prepared to follow, Vesemir patted him on the shoulder and whispered: "You go ahead. Remember the tracking techniques I taught you. I'll take care of the royal griffin's body and join you later…"
He then walked past Allen toward the royal griffin's headless corpse. As for Mary...
After her gaze lingered on both Witchers for a few moments, she eventually followed after Allen. Compared to handling materials, detective adventures were much more interesting.
-------------------
Following Dyson, they walked along the kingdom's main road, which was in complete disarray. Throughout the visible stretch of the road, only Dyson's convoy was packing up, tending to the wounds of injured members. Dyson seemed to trust Allen a great deal.
Seeing Vesemir walk back to the large griffin, he said nothing and continued recounting the events to Allen: "The griffin came suddenly, and none of us had time to react before the two horses pulling the cart were attacked…"
"Fortunately, that beast was only interested in the horses, and everyone else only suffered minor injuries like scratches or falls—nothing serious…"
Allen listened intently while surveying his surroundings. As he passed through the convoy members and headed toward the wagon, he felt a strange sense of familiarity with these people.
At first, he thought he had encountered someone he knew. Seizing the opportunity to observe the environment, he glanced at a severely scratched, bloodied wounded man and finally realized what was wrong.
Except for one middle-aged, chubby man who looked like a merchant, the rest of the injured weren't moaning or screaming in pain. They were disciplined, methodically tending to their tasks. This wasn't the kind of composure expected from convoy guards. Moreover, those who could still move freely, although not carrying weapons, exhibited a slight tilt to their left as they moved.
This was the residual effect of long-term sword-carrying at the waist, causing an imbalance in body posture. In other words, it was an occupational hazard.
Most people wouldn't notice it.
But with Allen's sharp perception, these differences stood out like a torch in the dark.
"Destination is Kaedwen, and this familiar feeling…"
After thinking for a moment, Allen arrived at a conclusion that even he found hard to believe.
Were these people the king's personal guards from Henselt?
No, that's impossible…
The king of Henselt was dead…
So, who were they?
"Master Allen, where do you plan to start your investigation?"
Dyson's voice interrupted Allen's thoughts. Allen didn't answer immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes. The large griffin had extraordinary keen senses of smell and sight. Given what he knew about the creature, the clues had to be related to either of these senses.
Sight was unlikely.
With so many people on this main road, and the griffin being not too intelligent, it wouldn't be able to distinguish its target, even if someone was controlling it. So, if there was a clue, it had to be related to scent.
Recalling the techniques Vesemir had taught him back at Kaer Morhen, Allen quickly circulated his magical energy. The "doors" to the mutated organs near his nostrils opened.
In an instant, the smell of rust, sweat, fresh grass, and the rich fragrance of perfume…
Before the various smells could manifest in colorful shapes before his eyes, Allen had already found the target.
"Master Allen, do you need me to find someone to assist you?"
Dyson, standing nearby, noticed the witcher closing his eyes and assumed he had encountered some difficulty.
"No need, I've found it!"
With his piercing blue cat-like eyes now open, Allen nodded slightly toward Dyson.
"Alright, I'll arrange for… wait, what? You found it?"
Dyson exclaimed in surprise, drawing the attention of the convoy members, who were presumably the king's guards.
How could he have found it just by closing his eyes?
Was Allen deceiving him?
Even with the high regard Dyson had for the Wolf School, he couldn't help but feel a bit skeptical. Even Mary, who had been silently shadowing Allen, stared at him in amazement.
Without further explanation, Allen stepped over the broken wooden pieces left by the overturned wagon, following the familiar scent and circling around the wagon. At the edge of the dirt road, where it met the grass, lay a pile of beautifully decorated small wooden boxes, scattered and overturned.
Some boxes had been damaged, revealing crystal bottles filled with pale yellow liquid.
Some bottles were even shattered.
These were all expensive perfumes.
The fragrance Allen had detected earlier came from here. He wasn't sure if Dyson's merchant company truly existed. If it did, they were surely facing a heavy financial loss.
"This smell... and these crystal bottles shaped like sirens…"
"Are these all Helena's latest perfume, 'Siren's Kiss'?"
"So... so many of them are broken..."
Mary, who had been mostly unnoticed, spoke up. The regret and distress in her voice were palpable. Dyson stared at Mary in surprise, and before he could respond, a plump, kind-looking merchant who had been standing out from the rest of the group exclaimed: "This lady has excellent taste. Yes, this is indeed 'Siren's Kiss'."
Upon hearing this, Mary realized that everyone was looking at her. She stuck out her tongue shyly, murmured an apology, and then timidly retreated behind Allen. The plump merchant, noticing Mary's shyness, didn't say more but whispered in Dyson's ear: "Lord Dyson, each bottle of 'Siren's Kiss' costs 450 Orens…"
Dyson's eyes widened, and after a glance at the merchant, he looked over at Mary. Perfume costing nearly 500 Orens a bottle wasn't something everyone would recognize…
The boy was the youngest witcher master—so who exactly was this girl?
But since neither of the witchers had voluntarily introduced her, Dyson merely nodded to the merchant and refrained from asking further about the young woman's identity.
He was simply curious…
Could it have been the perfume that attracted the large griffin?
To be honest, if Allen said that was the case, it would be a bit of a stretch. However, considering they had saved the lives of the entire "convoy", even if Allen did say that, Dyson was prepared to accept it.
Clang, clang.
Allen gently pushed aside a few of the boxes piled on top and picked up a smaller, decorated box from beneath them.
"This is it!"
Allen didn't open the box but handed it directly to the confused Dyson. Dyson hesitated for a moment before attempting to open it.
"I'll open it, Lord Dyson!"
The plump merchant reached out, trying to take the small box, but Dyson stopped him. He glanced at Allen, took a deep breath, and opened it himself.
Click.
The moment the box was opened, a strong, overwhelming stench, as if fresh meat had rotted in a warm, damp place for three days, rushed out.
"Killer Whale!"
Mary exclaimed.
She was all too familiar with this smell!
Killer Whale?
The name itself sounded like a deadly poison. Dyson was so shocked that he instantly dropped the small box on the ground and urgently asked: "What is Killer Whale?"
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
228. The Scent of Conspiracy and Love.
229. Big Explosion and the Law of Surprise.
230. The Unexpected Child.
231. The Woman in His Mind.
232. Aedirn... Has a Problem!