289. "How Should I Kill Them?"

The Witcher turned his gaze back and looked over at the gate tower.

Vera leaned on the crenellations, her arms propped up as she stared absentmindedly at the lady below the city wall, a melancholic expression on her face, lost in thought. The subsequent requirements of the knighting ceremony were rather cumbersome. Arthur had only briefly explained them, then handed him an ancient parchment book.

"…This is the code of chivalry and the deeds of renowned knights throughout history…"

"The other steps are manageable, but the design of your coat of arms and flag needs to be settled quickly."

"Lord Mason will send them to Vizima, where the noble council needs to record and review your qualifications for the title…"

"Of course, this is just a formality."

"I understand." Allen nodded. "I'll prepare the coat of arms and flag designs as soon as possible. Thank you, Sir Arthur."

Arthur smiled and said earnestly, "It's an honor to fight alongside you."

With that, he looked toward the old duke.

After the old duke nodded slightly, Arthur's expression became solemn.

"Please follow me. Lord Mason has some matters he wishes to discuss."

He then led the way, guiding everyone into the tower.

The rain intensified.

---------------------------

Snap!

Not long after entering the tower, with the snap of someone's fingers, a red glow flashed over everyone present.

A wave of warmth immediately surged up.

Steam rose from their damp clothing.

In an instant, their rain-soaked garments were dry. This caused the Witcher, who was about to cast Igni, to pause and quietly retract his right hand. It must be said, the sorceresses had quite a few handy little life-spell tricks up their sleeves.

"Many thanks, Lady Vera," everyone said gratefully to the sorceress.

Inside the dimly lit tower, the passageways were narrow.

Arthur held a crystal lamp in front, guiding the way. The old duke and Ianna followed close behind, whispering about the resettlement of the Ellander refugees.

Allen, Vesemir, Mary, and Lisa fell to the back of the group.

"Congratulations, Sir Allen of Ellander," Vesemir approached, congratulating him with a smile. "It's been a long time since a Witcher was awarded a worldly title."

Hearing this, Allen gave a wry smile, his mouth twitching slightly as he murmured, "Is it really okay for a Witcher of the Wolf School to be granted a title?"

This situation differed from when Geralt, by a twist of fate during the Second Northern War, saved the forces of Queen Meve of Lyria and Rivia and was awarded a title.

At that time, the Wolf School was already in decline. Although many Witchers still adhered to the principle of neutrality, the school actually had no power to enforce it, and none of the northern kings or nobles cared about the Witchers' stance on neutrality.

But now…

Though Henselt's actions had subtly altered the school's ideology, the principle of neutrality largely remained unchanged, with strict adherence enforced among the Witchers of the school.

At the very least, a Witcher could be expelled from Kaer Morhen and stripped of membership in the school.

As a master Witcher, Allen accepted this title with Vesemir's approval, so he had no reason to worry about this issue.

However.

Even though the old duke had deliberately avoided mentioning the relationship between vassal and lord during the ceremony…

Would outsiders not misinterpret Allen's position when hearing the title "Allen of Ellander," doubting the Wolf School's stance on neutrality?

With the Wolf School's nearly one hundred members, each with the strength of ten, was there any power on the Northern Continent that could truly ignore them, free of suspicion or wariness?

Truth be told, had it not been for the suddenness of the situation and the support from Ianna and Vesemir, Allen would definitely not have agreed to this.

"It's alright," Vesemir said quietly, shrugging. "Kaer Morhen has more than just one noble…"

Huh?

Not just me?

The Witcher paused.

He suddenly recalled that the old duke had also said something similar earlier: "Kaer Morhen is not my fief, and there is already another knight there."

"Who's the other one?" he asked curiously. "Duke Mason also mentioned there's another knight at Kaer Morhen."

"Hmm…" Vesemir pondered, "He does have a knight title, but that's not his main title…"

The Witcher froze.

A knight's title was the lowest rank, so if that's not his main title, then…

"The Count of Beauclair, the Golden Lion Knight of Kaer Morhen…" Vesemir continued, "Though these titles are scarcely known and haven't been mentioned for many years."

He looked at Allen, who was racking his brain to recall where Beauclair was and what significance the Golden Lion had, and asked with interest: "Do you know the title most commonly associated with him now?"

Allen looked over at Vesemir's meaningful expression, and suddenly, a name popped into his mind. His eyes widened.

"That's right~" Vesemir smirked and said in a low voice:

"They call him the Dragonslayer, Sol Henrietta, the Dragonslayer…"

------------------------

After letting Allen absorb this news, Vesemir continued: "So, you really don't need to worry about your knightly title affecting the school."

"After all, if you count it, Sol is still technically in the succession line for the Ducal title of Toussaint, and not at a low rank either."

"But now that you have a knightly title, your fame will spread alongside your heroic deeds in saving Ellander, sweeping across the Northern Continent."

"In a few years, even those on the Skellige Isles might know your name."

"And, this could bring other benefits to the school…"

Vesemir reassured Allen not to overthink it. But before he could finish speaking, the group suddenly halted.

Creak~

A door was pushed open.

A brightly lit room with a long table and many chairs unfolded before them. The old duke took the seat at the head.

Under the guidance of the attendants, everyone took their seats. There was no small talk. As soon as the Witcher sat down, he heard the old duke ask: "What should I know about the Wild Hunt?"

Everyone instinctively turned their gaze to Vesemir.

Vesemir thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully, and said: "There aren't many records about the Wild Hunt in the Melitele temple, and most of them are repetitive, filled with things like 'ominous signs' and 'portents of war'..."

In truth.

The temple library didn't have much useful information.

Everything they'd gathered over these days didn't amount to as much as the few sentences Allen had shared with him back in the Flotsam Harbor.

He'd often been perplexed, while reading through the redundant records.

Exactly who was this Francesca, who Allen claimed knew the identity of the Wild Hunt?

Could the long-eared folk, exiled to barren, remote mountains, really hide such a big secret—that the Wild Hunt was actually their long-lost kin?

This was information even the greatest temple in the Northern Continent didn't have.

Could an ordinary elf possibly know this?

The old duke looked slightly disappointed.

What he wanted to know was how to deal with those monsters flying in the sky, impossible to reach. He wasn't interested in hearing someone, like some ancient scholar, delve into legends and meanings hidden in old scrolls.

"However..." the master Witcher shifted his tone, "I did find something peculiar... er, a concept… from another set of scrolls."

"What concept?"

"Spirals!" Vesemir replied. Then, before anyone could ask, he explained: "This concept comes from an old leather-bound book called The Celestial Convergence and Spirals, written by Geoffrey Monck."

"He was one of the first humans to master Elder Race magic, a powerful sorcerer, a member of the Novigrad Alliance, and one of the founding members of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers..."

"I know of him, or rather, every sorcerer knows of him," Vera chimed in at that moment.

"Geoffrey Monck was the foremost authority on teleportation magic. He also authored another book, The Magic of the Elder Folk, which is a comprehensive work on elven teleportation magic."

"But the reason he's so well-known among sorcerers is because of his hobby."

"Hobby?" the old duke asked in confusion.

He didn't understand why the topic had shifted from the Wild Hunt to a male sorcerer, but the Blood Fox's age and status warranted his patience and respect.

"Yes, his hobby," Vera nodded. "He was a sorcerer who enjoyed capturing djinn, and not just one."

"Djinn... world spirits..." The old duke felt it sounded familiar. "Is that the creature in legends, each one able to grant three wishes?"

"Yes, though it's not a legend, but a fact," Vera corrected him. "Djinn—or rather, the elemental spirits of air—each can grant three wishes."

"Of course..." She glanced at the old duke, whose face showed a particular interest. "They interpret the wishes of their summoners in their own way."

"Rumor has it that Geoffrey Monck ultimately perished because of wishes that were twisted in meaning; otherwise, with his abilities, he'd surely still be alive today, like Hen Gedymdeith."

"But undeniably…"

"It was these wishes that allowed him, a human sorcerer, to master one of the most challenging types of Elder Race magic—spatial magic."

When Vera finished speaking, she looked back at Vesemir.

The master Witcher knew that the sorceress was backing up what he was about to say, emphasizing its credibility. Grateful, he nodded to her and continued: "Indeed, in several scrolls I found, Geoffrey Monck is referred to as the greatest giant in the field of spatial magic."

"So, what is a spiral? And how does it relate to the Wild Hunt?" After learning that the djinn granted wishes in twisted ways, the old duke extinguished any impulsive thoughts and, feeling slightly irritated, asked.

"The convergence of worlds, the origins of time and space, the interdimensional vessel… Geoffrey Monck called it many things in The Celestial Convergence and Spirals, but the most crucial thing for us is that beings can travel through time and space using spirals."

"To teleport instantly from one place to another."

"What do you mean?" The old duke frowned, recalling the Wild Hunt's appearance: disappearing from Flotsam Port by day, then reappearing at Ellander by night.

So it was true...

"I suspect the Wild Hunt uses spirals for teleportation." Vesemir paused, glanced at Allen, and continued, "Only intelligent beings can utilize spiral teleportation..."

Vesemir was leading the old duke step by step.

Although he didn't know when the old duke would ask them about the Wild Hunt, he knew it was inevitable after the duke had come to the temple to ask about the events at Flotsam Port. Besides, the Wild Hunt had appeared again during the May Festival, causing considerable casualties.

So, over the past few days, he had reviewed the relevant scrolls and coordinated with Allen, planning what to say.

Which parts should be revealed, and which should remain hidden?

How could he ensure the listeners stayed cautious without losing confidence in fighting the Wild Hunt?

The fact that the Wild Hunt was "distant relatives of the long-eared ones" was something he absolutely couldn't reveal.

Otherwise…

The old duke and the nobles and commoners of Ellander would inevitably take out their anger on the elves who had retreated into the mountains.

Not only would this undo the alliance Allen had worked so hard to secure with the Wolf School, but it would also senselessly deplete and divide the forces resisting the Wild Hunt.

Moreover…

Even if the Aen Elle in Blue Mountains were truly related to the Wild Hunt, as Allen said…

The strength the Wild Hunt exhibited clearly showed they had severed ties with them.

Otherwise, would the long-eared ones be in their current pitiful state?

That's why Vesemir had to conceal this fact and carefully word his statements.

"So... the Wild Hunt isn't some calamity or spirit, but a… living being?" The old duke pondered.

"At the very least, they're not mindless spirits as legend claims," Vesemir added. "And their behavior in Flotsam Port and Ellander reflects this perspective."

"To put it bluntly, no spirit would ever restrain itself from unleashing its hatred and resentment toward the living, only to leave after casting a spell."

"This seems more like an army with a clear objective but poor discipline passing through a village, wreaking havoc, and then moving on."

The old duke, who had spent half his life in the military, raised an eyebrow at this familiar analogy.

This… indeed… made sense.

But as he thought about it, his brow furrowed again: "Wait!"

The previously confident Vesemir froze, worried he had slipped up somewhere.

But the spiral concept was genuinely from The Celestial Convergence and Spirals and was among his few valuable findings after days of research.

"This theory is based on the assumption that the Wild Hunt uses spiral teleportation, but don't sorcerers also have teleportation abilities?" The old duke turned to Vera.

"It's different," the sorceress shook her head. "Teleporting through portals over such distances requires the caster to have been to the destination beforehand."

"Moreover, the memory of the coordinates and the act of teleporting can't be too far apart in time."

"While I'm unsure about the Wild Hunt's mastery of spatial magic, human sorcerers can't delay more than ten years before they must 'record' the coordinates again."

Then Vera paused, looking at the old duke: "Has the Wild Hunt been to Ellander within the past ten years?"

"Not just Ellander—the Wild Hunt hasn't appeared in this world for hundreds of years." The old duke finally relaxed.

He, too, hoped Vesemir was right.

If the Wild Hunt were an unstoppable disaster from legend, then how could Ellander's hatred ever be avenged?

But…

Since the Wild Hunt was indeed intelligent life, one question remained.

"How should I kill them?"

....

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290. Divine Dreamwalking [Melitele].

291. The Death of Gods, the End of the World.

292. The Saviour, the Chosen One.

293. A Color Brighter than Gold.

294. Who Am I?