Gazing into Lysa's pleading dark eyes, for a brief moment, Allen almost thought he had already agreed.
Why not?
The political leaders admire you, the religious leaders favor you, and the entire city worships you as a hero out of an epic tale. All you need to do is your job—hunting monsters.
Why not?
Allen took a deep breath.
The scorching midday air filled his lungs, burning away any vanity.
"Sorry, Lysa."
"Why?" Lysa's smile turned strained as she asked urgently, "Everyone adores you. Why not choose to stay?"
"You know my background well, Allen."
"My father was a nobleman who deeply valued Kaedwen, his loyalty to the kingdom far surpassing his love for his wife and children. From the moment I was born, he fought for the king and Kaedwen—against the fierce Aedirnians, against the ruthless elves, even against his fellow countrymen turned bandits due to the king's heavy taxes..."
"Kaedwen's territory expanded quite a bit because of him, but during the nearly ten years after I was born, the time I spent with my father in total each year didn't exceed two months."
"My mother quarreled with him countless times about this. While other Kaedwen nobles and knights always found excuses to avoid conscription, he insisted that serving the king loyally was the duty of a noble and a knight."
"Every time the king issued an order, he would lead his troops to charge at the front. But he wasn't someone who enjoyed war. In his spare time, he delighted in painting and writing poetry..."
"Do you know? Every time my father held me, I could smell the blood that had seeped into his very soul."
"And in the end?"
"What was the result of being loyal to the kingdom?"
"Father died, mother died, Brother Erni, Brother Red, Elijah, Bard, Quinn… even Lady Leia and Mr. Noel—they all died."
"This is the fate of being loyal to Kaedwen!"
"Allen!"
"Kaedwen doesn't deserve you!"
Lysa's words spilled out rapidly, like a volley of arrows without pause.
Tears sparkled in her eyes, accumulating as her voice grew more anguished.
She must have been recalling the past.
Allen instinctively reached out a finger to wipe away the tears spilling from the young priestess's eyes. Only after completing the motion did he realize it was somewhat inappropriate.
However, the priestess only froze for a moment when his finger touched her alabaster-like skin, without any other reaction.
"I'm not loyal to Kaedwen," he said softly. "But I'm a Witcher, a Witcher of the Wolf School. Unless the school relocates, I cannot remain in Ellander indefinitely."
Lysa mistakenly thought the Wolf School would punish a Witcher for defecting. "But you have Vera. Even I can see she cares deeply for you, treating you like her own child. Mother Ianna and the old duke also like you a lot. If you're willing to stay here, how could the Wolf School dare to object?"
"I could even ask my aunt for help. Our family still has some acquaintances in Temeria..."
"It's not about that. The school doesn't care about such things," Allen shook his head, interrupting her. "But I'm a Witcher. My kind is in the Wolf School. That is my home."
Lysa opened her mouth, as though wanting to say something.
But after a long silence, she said not a word. Instead, she turned away, her steps slow as she walked past the three-story red-brick building toward the Melitele temple.
Allen hesitated, then followed slowly.
At noon, many were leaving the temple. However, only a few could recognize Allen beneath his mercenary garb.
The peaceful atmosphere here, so different from the city center, cooled the vanity stirring in his heart. His momentarily wavering resolve regained its firmness.
In this era, public opinion was easily manipulated, and fabricating truths for the common people came at almost no cost.
Though he was now elevated high by Ellander's adoration, Allen knew that if the nobles merely shifted their narrative slightly, the fervor would instantly cool. Indifference would follow, then hostility.
Was that really impossible?
It wasn't certain.
After all, just last night, the old duke had been complaining about his "good-for-nothing" son. And the old duke...
He was quite old.
This thought calmed Allen completely.
The lightly intoxicating warm wind rustled the old trees lining the road, casting golden shadows that paved the way forward.
Halfway there, the temple's benevolent and divine statue came into view.
"Last night..." Lysa suddenly spoke, though only two words.
"What about last night?" Allen turned his head.
The girl didn't look at him. Instead, her gaze was fixed on the shimmering patches of light on the ground.
"Last night, I lifted the curse—the Witchers turned into jade statues by a sorcerer's magic..."
"Green leather armor, green swords."
"They were tiny, less than half a meter tall, cold and rigid in my hands."
"Just like..."
The girl closed her eyes. "Just like lifeless objects."
Allen remained silent.
"They were all Witchers like you, professional monster hunters, yet just one spell rendered them utterly helpless, their lives frozen in that moment, unable to move ever again."
"At that moment, some terrible thoughts occurred to me..."
"If those jade statues were taken back by the sorcerer, what would happen?"
"Would they be tortured like prisoners, dissected like the rumors say, or silently perish like my father did..."
"What if..." The girl paused, turning her head to look at Allen.
Allen also looked at her, seeing fear in her trembling eyes.
"What if one of those jade statues were you?"
"That wouldn't happen to me," Allen said. "On the contrary, I'm the one who saved Erni and the others."
"Are you sure it wouldn't happen?"
"Absolutely sure!" Allen stared into the girl's eyes, his gaze resolute.
With his current strength, there might be individuals capable of defeating or killing him, but no one—not even a sorcerer—could turn him into a jade statue without resistance.
And this was just the beginning. Time was on his side. He would only grow stronger.
"That's good," the girl said, her gaze dropping to her plain shoes. "That's good."
Allen looked at her dejected expression, wanting to say something more.
But after some thought, he chose to remain silent, focusing instead on the road ahead as they walked.
In this quiet, the two returned to the temple.
"Going to the dining hall?" Allen asked beneath the sacred statue at the temple entrance.
"No," Lysa shook her head. "I need to go back first."
"Alright then. Thank you for guiding me this morning. I enjoyed it."
"I'm just glad I didn't spoil your mood," Lysa said with a bitter smile. "I don't even know why I said what I did earlier..."
"But even so, I still think there was one thing you said that wasn't right."
"What was it?" Allen asked, puzzled.
"Allen!" Lysa looked at him solemnly, her tone extremely serious. "Your kind isn't limited to the witchers at Kaer Morhen, Kaer Seren, Gors Velen, or Haern Caduch… those strongholds."
"You are human."
"The entire Northern Continent is filled with your kind. Vesemir is, Nenneke is, Mother Ianna is, Lady Vera is, and I… I am too."
"If Kaer Morhen can be your home, then surely there can be other places as well."
"Ellander, the Melitele Temple, so many people like you. I… we can all be your family."
"You still have a lot of time to spend in Ellander."
"Important decisions don't need to be made so early."
With that, Lysa didn't wait for Allen to respond, or perhaps she didn't dare to hear his answer, and fled into the temple as if escaping.
"I am human too…"
Allen stood in place for a moment, then smiled wryly and shook his head.
------------------------
"Whoo~ Whoo~"
Panting heavily, Lysa ran back to her dormitory after parting with Allen at the temple gates.
It was a modest wooden house, much like the longhouse where several witchers were staying temporarily at the Melitele Temple. Inside, many children of similar status to Lysa lived.
But since it was mealtime, the longhouse was empty.
"Bang~"
Closing the door, Lysa leaned against it, placing her right hand on her heaving chest.
At this moment, her mind was entirely blank except for the sound of her wildly beating heart.
It was unclear how long passed.
Gradually, the noise of laughter and chatter drifted faintly from outside the door.
Only then did she snap out of her trance.
"Whoo~"
Taking a deep breath to calm her heartbeat, she opened her eyes.
Before her was a very simple room—a bed, a clothes rack, a desk, and a cabinet. All the furniture was plain and unadorned.
It was a far cry from the dim memories of her room as a viscount's daughter, filled with fine dolls and oil paintings.
Even compared to the house Sadia had conjured with illusions and magic in the abandoned mine, it was inferior.
Then again…
Perhaps because Sadia used magic, or due to some sense of compensation, her "room" in the abandoned mine was likely much better than the one in the castle. She remembered there were even many elven-style toys beside the bed.
Those were toys no viscount could afford, even if he was willing to give everything for his daughter.
"If he were truly willing to give everything, he should've stayed alive…"
The painful memories of the past attacked her again. Lysa murmured softly and sighed.
At that time…
Her father had the chance to escape with them, but he gave it up.
Was it because of the laughable knightly code? Or perhaps he still harbored some hope for Henselt? Or maybe, deep down, he was a coward who couldn't or wouldn't face the pursuit of the lord he had served so loyally?
She didn't know.
After her mother died in front of her, she had pondered this countless times but could never deduce an answer. And she probably never would.
After all, the dead don't speak. They never will.
Not entirely true, though. Necromancy was forbidden for sorcerers, but the Archpriestess could perform resurrection rituals.
But she didn't even know where his body lay…
Her thoughts wandered aimlessly as Lysa walked to the spotless wooden desk, opened a drawer, and took out a wooden carving.
It was a wooden figurine of a warrior carrying two swords.
If Allen were here, he would've recognized it as similar to the ones he had seen at the market square earlier that day.
The only difference was the base of this carving. Where the original inscription read "The Hero of Ellander—Master Witcher Allen" some words had been altered with a carving knife. The newer text was far more elegant, bearing a touch of Aen Seidhe grace.
Lysa gazed at it for a while. Her slender finger gently traced the figurine's face, and her habitual overthinking gradually faded.
Then, suddenly, she took out a carving knife from the drawer.
"Thud~ Thud~ Thud~"
Wood shavings fell as she worked.
When she stopped, the base of the carving now read, "Lysa's Hero—The Human Allen." The newer carving marks were noticeably fresher than the old ones.
"Not bad."
Lysa nodded in satisfaction, but after a moment, her mood sank again.
Sighing, she brushed the wood shavings off the desk and carefully placed the figurine on it. Crossing her hands over her chest, she began to pray:
"Praise be to the Mother of All, Goddess of Fertility, Harvest, and Birth, the Eternal Maiden, Mother, and Crone. I, your devotee Lysa, pray for your protection over the witch… no… the human… no… still the witcher Allen…"
"Praise be to the Mother of All, Goddess of Fertility, Harvest, and Birth…"
As her prayer continued, a faint sigh seemed to echo from somewhere, though no one knew where.
-----------------------
Meanwhile, on the other side of the temple…
The subject of the girl's prayers had no idea that while some people hung his image on doors, hoping to ward off evil spirits, others locked his likeness in a drawer, praying for divine protection over him.
Having just finished his lunch, Allen was pondering what to do that afternoon.
The official monster hunt arranged with the old duke was scheduled for tomorrow. Moving it up to the afternoon wouldn't be an issue for the duke, but mobilizing the hunting forces would take time. Vesemir was still training young witchers, and they needed to adapt to their reawakened bodies after the transformation and disenchantment rituals.
As for hunting alone, it wasn't impossible, but he lacked the enthusiasm for it.
Moreover…
As he walked toward the longhouse where the witchers were staying, an idea suddenly occurred to Allen.
"It's only been two days since Ban Ard was attacked by the Wild Hunt. Should I go take a look?"
The thought quickly took root.
After all, both the current state of Ban Ard Academy and intelligence on the Wild Hunt were of great importance to him.
These factors tied directly to his assessment of his two greatest enemies' strength.
Especially the Wild Hunt. The true power of the Aen Elle was a mystery to him, as the information from the game and the original story was unreliable.
After all, a group that could destroy cities with a few spells somehow failed to capture Ciri on horseback in the original tale. Moreover, during the defense of Kaer Morhen, they mostly fought with melee weapons, which seemed absurd.
If not for the Royal Griffin, the journey to and from Ban Ard would take nearly a month. That wouldn't be feasible.
But now…
The Royal Griffin had flown him from Vengerberg to Ellander in less than an hour. He had nearly an entire afternoon and evening—no, with the griffin's navigation, he essentially had half a day and the whole night.
Barring unforeseen circumstances, it was entirely possible!
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
364. The Smoke of Ban Ard.
365. The Wild Hunt – A Sorcerer's Coveted Treasure: A Legacy from an Old Friend.
366. While two dogs are fighting for a bone, a third runs away with it?
367. The Guiding Hand of Fate.
368. Hunting the Wild Hunt.