Clang!
The wooden box fell. Two black and red fist-sized objects tumbled out. One was a dark red, slightly rotten piece of meat, and the other was a dried charm, seemingly woven from some kind of grass stalk.
Allen glanced at Mary and explained: "It's not killer whale, it's Buckthorn."
"Don't worry, as long as you don't ingest this herb, it's harmless to humans."
"However, after some processing, it emits a stench that's very attractive to griffins and royal griffins..."
"What is a killer whale then?" Dyson asked curiously.
Out of respect for the benefactor, Allen took a crystal bottle filled with a bright blue potion from his reagent pouch.
"This is the killer whale, a potion used by witchers."
"The main ingredient for making it is buckthorn..."
Allen glanced at Mary, who had her head down, seemingly recalling some unpleasant memories, and said to Dyson: "She might be... quite familiar with the smell, so she subconsciously mentioned the potion's name."
"Quite familiar is an understatement..."
Mary rolled her eyes internally. During that time, she had almost been entirely infused with the smell of sage. Dyson, hearing this, took a curious glance at the beautiful blue potion in Allen's hand but didn't ask further. Instead, he frowned and looked at the witcher: "So, the royal griffin's attack was truly an accident, and someone was plotting against us?"
"It seems so," Allen nodded, shutting off his mutated nasal organs. He picked up a nearby dry twig and poked the rotten piece of meat.
"This piece of meat carries a bit of the royal griffin's scent, possibly related to the one that attacked us today..."
"Royal griffins are very loyal creatures when it comes to their mates. Perhaps this piece of meat, along with the sage, attracted it."
Allen's reasoning was logical.
With the evidence right before him, Dyson immediately accepted his judgment.
Even though he had suspected it earlier, knowing that someone had truly plotted against them made Dyson's face, which usually exuded a calm demeanor, darken instantly. For those who hadn't experienced it, it was hard to imagine the overwhelming pressure of a royal griffin charging at you. And the helpless terror of being treated as prey.
The more Dyson thought back to the previous scenes, the angrier he became. However, with their savior right in front of him, he restrained his anger and asked another question: "Master Allen, how many people know about this method of making royal griffin bait?"
Now that he recognized Allen's true expertise, Dyson's tone had become much more respectful.
"Not many..." Allen shook his head.
Even within the Wolf School of Witchers, unless they specifically planned to hunt royal griffins, few would know how to make griffin bait. Vesemir had assigned this task to him because Dyson's commission wasn't particularly high in difficulty. He only needed to identify the problem. Not create griffin bait.
"Royal griffins aren't particularly valuable monsters. Only a few of their organs can be used as ingredients for certain potions, and they usually dwell deep in the mountains."
"Low value, hard to encounter..."
"So, only a few wizards seeking specific materials, or witchers tasked with hunting griffins, would know how to make this bait."
Allen did not shy away from suspecting other witchers in his words. There was no need to, and avoiding the suspicion could even backfire. Even if Dyson served some noble, likely a prominent noble of Kaedwen, or even possibly the royal family of Kaedwen. After listening to Allen's analysis, Dyson nodded, then turned his head to look at the fat merchant and asked: "Where did this batch of perfume come from?"
"And the person who procured the perfume? Are they still with the caravan?"
The box looked almost identical to the other perfume boxes, so there were only a few possible ways it could have been mixed in. The fat merchant wiped the sweat from his forehead and thought for a moment before humbly bowing, just about to respond. Then something crossed his mind, and he glanced at Allen.
"I'll go help with processing the royal griffin materials..."
Allen found an excuse and was about to pull Mary away.
"No need!"
Dyson stopped them and said to the fat merchant: "Just say it directly..."
"Master Allen saved our lives. There's nothing you can't say in front of him, and besides, I still need him to verify things."
The fat merchant glanced at Allen, hesitated for a few more seconds, but eventually gave in under Dyson's increasingly stern gaze. He no longer hid anything and directly said: "The court sorcerer from Vengerberg, Ban Ard, has always had a good relationship with us..."
"This batch of Siren's Kiss was acquired through his connections..." The fat merchant paused, then continued, "Uh... he even helped us gather information about you, so..."
The fat merchant left the sentence unfinished. But Dyson understood his implication. If Ban Ard truly wanted to harm him, he could have done so silently, without the need for such complications. Dyson pondered for a moment, his expression shifting between uncertainty and suspicion.
Tap, tap, tap...
The heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts.
Vesemir had finished processing the royal griffin's materials and approached.
"Sorry, I got lost in thought."
Dyson apologized and then gestured to the fat merchant with his eyes. The merchant naturally took out a money pouch from his chest, seemingly prepared for this moment: "Master Allen, here is 1,200 Orens. Please check it."
"No need to count, I trust you."
Allen took the pouch without counting it, then exchanged a glance with Vesemir, ready to bid farewell to Dyson and his party to continue their journey. Just as they were about to leave, Dyson called out to them.
"May I ask, Masters, where are you headed? Could I hire you to escort us to Ard Carraigh?"
'I'm willing to pay an additional 1,000 Orens...'
Dyson's tone was sincere.
Although Allen and Vesemir had a favorable impression of Dyson, and the payment for the escort commission was generous, they couldn't accept it. Not only because they had to head to Ellander to lift a curse, but also because they needed to avoid the turmoil surrounding the king's death.
"Sorry, we have important business in Ellander, so we can't travel with you."
Allen felt a bit awkward rejecting a commission just after receiving a payment.
"No problem, it's just our bad luck."
"In that case, we bid farewell here."
Dyson shook his head, then bowed slightly, sincerely bidding farewell to Vesemir, Allen, and Mary: "May the Lady of the Lake guide your journey."
Allen was slightly taken aback, then seriously nodded: "May your journey be smooth as well."
The three of them then left, with Dyson and his caravan watching them go.
-----------------------
After finding the three horses that had been too frightened by the royal griffin to move forward, Allen and the group continued toward Vengerberg.
"Allen, do you know who they work for?"
Riding his horse, Vesemir suddenly turned and asked.
"The Kaedwen royal family, most likely the soon-to-be king."
Allen didn't hesitate in his response. Vesemir was a little surprised. After all, Allen was previously the youngest Witcher master.
When he was younger, he had followed the Chief to help Henselt with many things, so recognizing the "scent" of those caravan guards with just a glance was understandable. But Allen hadn't spent much time with them.
"How did you figure it out?" Vesemir asked.
"Their posture, physique, and discipline..." Allen tugged on the reins. "I once observed the royal guards of Kaedwen for a long time in Henselt Viscount's abandoned mine."
"Of course, the main clues were Dyson, his profession as a tutor, and their destination..."
Upon hearing this, Vesemir nodded in admiration of Allen's keen insight.
In truth, what surprised him the most wasn't Allen's ability to discern the identity of the guards through their posture. Rather, it was that Allen consciously thought about these matters, about these people's identities.
He wasn't like a brute who only cared about fulfilling the client's request, collecting the payment, and ignoring everything else. There were plenty of examples in the school that showed how Witchers like that often suffered big losses. Unfortunately, Witchers who had trained for nearly a decade at the fortress of Kaer Morhen tended to be brutes.
Only after being deceived or used by a client would they learn this lesson. But by then, they often swung to the other extreme...
Thankfully, Allen wasn't like that. Even back at Kaer Morhen, he seemed mature beyond his years, as though he had seen it all. Mature to the point of being somewhat frightening. And a bit... heart-wrenching.
"Looks like I don't need to teach you the art of reading people anymore. When it comes to logical judgment, most Witchers aren't as good as you."
"But remember, while hunting monsters is the Witcher's primary duty..."
"The skill of dealing with people is no less important than swordsmanship or signs for a Witcher."
"In fact, as monsters become rarer, it might even become more important..."
Though Vesemir's lessons were often boring, they were filled with valuable insights. So Allen had gotten used to it, listening attentively and occasionally responding.
After a while, after finishing his examples of Witchers dealing with people, Vesemir suddenly sighed:
"Lado is really in trouble this time."
"Lado?"
Hearing the unfamiliar name, Allen raised his head in confusion.
"He's Henselt's only child, the future king of Kaedwen." Vesemir explained. "When he was very young, I held him when the Chief and I went to Ard Carraigh, the royal city."
"Unlike that ungrateful beast Henselt, Lado has always seemed like a decent child."
"Seemed?" Allen caught the key point. That didn't sound like something you'd say about someone you knew well.
"Uh..." Vesemir hesitated. "In recent years, after Henselt distanced himself from us, I haven't seen Lado."
"But from what I've heard, after inheriting the title of Duke of Stanner, he's governed his lands justly and kindly, much better than his father."
Allen knew about Stanner, a royal domain around Ard Carraigh. Typically, after a prince of Kaedwen comes of age, they first inherit the title of Duke of Stanner.
However...
Just and kind?
That didn't seem like great qualities for a king. Allen thought for a moment but didn't say anything, instead asking: "Why do you say he's in trouble?"
Vesemir sighed again: "Even though I don't understand politics, I do know..."
"For a soon-to-be king to urgently have his royal guards fetch a tutor from Toussaint, it can't be a good sign..."
"Moreover, this tutor, being protected by the royal guards in secret, was nearly killed by a griffin after someone set them up..."
"No matter how you look at it, things aren't looking good for Lado right now!"
Vesemir seemed to still hold onto the bond from when he held Lado as a child. But Allen wouldn't think that deeply. The more chaotic Kaedwen became, the better it was for the School of the Wolf.
It was a pity that the royal court of Kaedwen had abolished the role of Witcher court advisors for dealing with monsters. Otherwise, the School of the Wolf might have been able to exert some influence.
But now...
Allen sighed inwardly and shook his head.
Speaking of Dyson...
"Master Vesemir, do you think the bait that lured the griffin was made by the court wizard of Vengerberg?"
Allen asked curiously. Vesemir lowered his head and remained silent for a long time before shaking his head: "I don't know."
"I just hope this situation doesn't drag the School of the Wolf into it."
-----------------
Allen and Vesemir continued their conversation about state affairs and the school's future as they rode. At first, Mary was interested, but halfway through, she started to daydream, looking at the green grass along the road. She began counting the red, yellow, and purple flowers.
Until...
"Clip-clop, clip-clop~"
The anxious sound of hooves came from behind, causing her to turn her head instinctively. It was the plump merchant.
"Master Allen, Master Allen..."
Hearing the voice, Allen pulled the reins and stopped. The merchant rode up quickly, panting, but with a warm smile: "Master Allen, this is a small token from our caravan, please accept it."
With that.
The plump merchant took out a beautifully wrapped small box from his saddlebag. A delicate blue silk bow was tied on top of the box.
"For me?"
Allen looked puzzled and didn't take it immediately.
"Yes, Master Allen." The plump merchant, seeing Allen accept it, smiled and said, "This was specifically sent by Mr. Dyson, please be sure to accept it."
Allen, confused, glanced at Vesemir before accepting the small box.
"May the Lady of the Lake guide your journey."
The plump merchant gave a somewhat ambiguous smile and didn't linger, pulling the reins and leaving. Allen, still bewildered, instinctively replied: "May your journey be smooth as well!"
Then, he watched the plump figure quickly disappear into the distance.
After a while.
Allen, Vesemir, and Mary exchanged puzzled looks. Then, they glanced at the rather feminine and delicately crafted small box. Hesitating, Allen untied the blue bow.
"Cre-eak~"
When the wooden box was opened, the first thing they saw was a note.
It read: "Siren's Kiss, may you find true love—Dyson."
Underneath the note were two bottles of Siren's Kiss perfume.
"Whew—"
Vesemir, seeing the note as well, let out a whistle, giving Allen an amused look before glancing at the blushing Mary. With a hearty laugh, he teased: "No wonder he's from Toussaint, a true tutor!"
"So, Master Allen..."
"Who do you plan to give this perfume to?"
....…
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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229. Big Explosion and the Law of Surprise.
230. The Unexpected Child.
231. The Woman in His Mind.
232. Aedirn... Has a Problem!
233: War? War!