89. You’re Quite Good!

"Allen, come over here!"

"Come and have a drink with us!"

As soon as Allen entered the castle hall, the witchers who had been drinking with him last night invited him to join in the midday festivities.

Allen smiled and shook his head, politely declining the invitations from several witchers. He still had to go to the alchemy lab in the afternoon, and even though regular alcohol wouldn't easily get him drunk, it would be impolite to meet the sorceress while smelling of booze. He grabbed a white bread roll from the long table, drew the dagger from his waist, and sliced the freshly baked, steaming bread in half. Then, he went to the bonfire, cut a few pieces of juicy, shiny meat, and placed them between the bread slices.

"Crunch~"

One bite. The white bread was sweet and soft, perfectly complemented by the crispy, fragrant roast meat. Carbohydrates, fats, and proteins. Just one bite made the hungry Allen's appetite soar, and he devoured the large piece of bread in three quick bites. The black-haired boar from the Blue Mountains aside, just this quality of white bread alone would cost at least two orens. One oren could be exchanged for 100 copper coins. Two copper coins could buy a large basket of black bread, the normal staple for common folk.

"The Wolf School is really wealthy!" Allen wiped the oil off his mouth, unable to help but marvel. This nonstop drinking feast would last at least a month. Soft bread, black-haired boar, and fine wine—they would consume the equivalent of ten Aelsas in just one month.

"How did Vesemir in the game endure the decline of the school after this kind of abundance?" Allen shook his head, finding it hard to imagine. He poured himself a cup of wine to moisten his throat, then prepared to leave. Just then, a familiar voice came from the doorway.

"Have you finished lunch, Allen?"

Allen turned his head and looked towards the voice. Vesemir, dressed in the dark red wolf school armor, was smiling as he approached.

Allen felt a bit guilty. He had just been thinking about Vesemir's decline, and now Vesemir appeared before him. So, he nodded repeatedly and said, "I've finished eating. Is there something you need?"

"Come with me if you've eaten."

"I forgot to tell you yesterday, the annual meeting of the Wolf School master witchers is on the second day of the Trial of the Grasses."

As soon as Vesemir finished speaking, the bustling main hall of the castle fell silent instantly. Why would the annual meeting of the witcher masters have anything to do with Allen, a newly minted witcher who had just passed the Trial of the Grasses? The dozens of witchers present all had this question pop up in their minds at the same time, and then they simultaneously answered themselves. Because Allen... was also a witcher master now!

Although they had anticipated this yesterday, when it actually happened before their eyes, none of the witchers could remain indifferent and continue feasting without a care. After all, becoming a witcher master was the lifelong pursuit of many witchers. The atmosphere was suddenly deathly silent, making Vesemir realize something. He glanced at the speechless, astonished witchers, then pulled Allen along and left without another word.

"Cre-e-e-ak~"

The wooden door's hinges creaked mournfully. The master and apprentice witcher duo left the now silent main hall. It was a long while before the silence was broken by a sigh: "Doesn't this wine taste a bit sour?"

---------

The meeting place for the witcher masters was on the top floor of the main castle. Since the staircase in the hall was under repair, Vesemir led Allen up through another small door outside the main castle.

Along the way, Vesemir briefly introduced the attending witcher masters. Before today, including the first seat, the Wolf School had a total of eight witcher masters. Those who had arrived early at the Killer Lake yesterday morning were all the witcher masters of the Wolf School. Unlike regular witchers, who mostly returned to Kaer Morhen after winter but still had a few traveling outside, all witcher masters must return to the ancient fortress during winter.

In contrast, the masters' contracts for the next year were already set the previous year, mostly from nobles or town officials. They would plan their routes during winter and travel in the spring, making it simple and convenient, with generous and prompt payments from employers. Ordinary witchers, on the other hand, had to go from city to city looking for contracts, which was not only troublesome but also risky for getting cheated out of their rewards.

"Cre-e-e-ak~"

Vesemir pushed open the wooden door, and Allen followed behind him, looking inside. He had visited the first seat's residence once before the Trial, so it was not unfamiliar. However, that time was to warn about the threat from the Ban Ard sorcerer, and he had stood outside without entering. The dim light, the gray stone walls were standard for the castle. Even during the day, there was a chill in the air. The first seat's residence had no decorations.

Upon entering, there was a long corridor with various large monster heads hanging on both sides. Some of these monsters Allen had seen in his past life game, but most he had not. For instance, the dragon. The dragon's head was mounted above the door at the end of the corridor, seemingly glaring at those who entered. The red, bony dragon head looked like a demon from the abyss wearing a red copper mask. Its scales faintly glowed with a metallic firelight. The red vertical pupils, covered with a layer of white film, did not diminish the true dragon's majesty at all. Even from a distance, the immense dragon's aura still made it difficult for Allen to move.

According to witcher tavern legends, this dragon had been dead for at least two hundred years. It was hard to imagine how powerful this creature had been when it was alive. Even harder to imagine was the unfathomable strength of the dragon slayer.

"Tap~ Tap~ Tap~"

Staggering, Allen took a few more steps forward. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he finally reached the heavy iron door. He glanced sideways at Vesemir. Vesemir was as relaxed as if this were just an ordinary castle stone corridor. This made Allen's inflated ego from using tricks to kill two large monsters quietly disappear.

"Spend more time walking here when you can. It will do great things for your future," Vesemir said, satisfied with his pupil. Not all witchers could "pass" through this corridor. At least those who had been scared pale under the pressure of the Drowner King and the old Speartip yesterday wouldn't be able to.

Under the dragon's pressure, Allen struggled to nod. At Vesemir's prompting, he straightened his appearance and pushed open the door.

"Boom—"

A twelve-seat, unknown-material black wooden table came into view with the sound of the iron door's rumbling. Candlelight flickered. Seven pairs of eerie, various-colored vertical pupils reflected dangerous, wild glows, all looking at Allen who had pushed open the iron door.

In an instant, he smelled a strong scent of iron. The wails of various monsters echoed. For a moment, Allen thought he heard the roars of the Old Speartip and the drowner king. When he came back to his senses, a deep, aged voice sounded from the front.

"Master Allen!"

"You're quite good!"

.....

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90. The Fall of the Wolf School.

91. Stuck in a Deadlock.

92. Wolves, Griffins, Cats.

93. Cat-Eye Potion.

94. Jealous Mary.