As the cold essence liquid slid down his esophagus, Allen was pleasantly surprised to find that the strange sensation in his muscles had significantly lessened.
Compared to the last time he used it, a warmer stream of energy quickly spread from his stomach to his entire body.
In a daze, Allen felt like he was soaking in a slightly hot spring, so comfortable that he almost made a sound.
When the warm stream disappeared from his body, the pain and itchiness in his muscles also vanished. The heart essence liquid could also promote the absorption of "lunch!"
Allen, who had been troubled by the strange mushroom soup, almost exclaimed in surprise. For the past ten days, the apprentices' daily schedule was to attend classes in the morning and absorb potions in the afternoon and evening. If he had enough essence liquid, Allen could free up at least two-thirds of his time. He opened his character panel.
[ Attributes: Strength 5.5 (+0.2), Agility 5.6 (+0.2), Constitution 6.2 (+0.6), Perception 7.9 (+0.7), Mystery 3.5 (+0.2) ]
His total attributes had increased by 1.9 points. This was almost double the value Allen had estimated.
"Suddenly, I kind of like the drowners," Allen thought to himself.
Taking a deep breath, he slowly calmed his excited emotions.
After the sudden increase in attributes, Allen's witcher senses became extraordinarily sensitive. As he gradually calmed down, Allen caught many details inside the dormitory. The sweat induced by pain, the continuous painful gasps, the low growls suppressed deep in the throat. The creaking of wooden bed boards shattered against the cold, hard walls.
Apart from him, everyone in the dormitory was suffering. Thinking about the other apprentices, who were all under 13 years old, the joy of his gain quickly diminished.
A thought suddenly appeared in his mind. Should he share the essence liquid with them?
Allen sighed and silently apologized in his heart.
"When in distress, focus on oneself; when successful, help the world."
He wasn't yet qualified to help the world.
At least not now.
...
It was already late autumn.
The witchers who had gone out on their travels were returning one after another, trying to get back to Kaer Morhen before the heavy snow blocked the mountain paths for winter.
From the moment the first witcher returned to Kaer Morhen, the two-person-high fireplace in the castle hall would be lit with bonfires.
The lively banquet would go on from morning till night without stopping and would continue. Until the vernal equinox, when the ice and snow melted.
After bidding farewell to the apprentices, Vesemir came to the castle hall. As soon as he entered, the heat mixed with the din of voices hit him.More than twenty witchers were sitting around the dining table, boasting about their experiences over the past year.
Finding a random seat, Vesemir took the beer mug handed to him by a companion and took a hearty gulp.
"Ah~"
He let out a long, contented sigh. Turning to the companion who had handed him the drink, Vesemir casually started a conversation:
"Dante, I heard our king has declared war on the elfs again."
Dante had just returned to Kaer Morhen today. Witchers on their way back would always make a point to gather some information.
"Declared war? At most, it's just a raid," Witcher Dante shook his head, took a bite of bread, and continued, "And your news is outdated. That less-than-a-hundred-person skirmish ended two months ago."
"I stayed at Kaer Morhen this year to train apprentices, and it was Letho who told me about the declaration of war."
Vesemir shrugged and asked:
"What do you know? Tell me in detail."
"Why?" Dante asked curiously. "Got an old flame among the elf folks?"
Vesemir's face darkened. "Just tell me what you know! Stop with the nonsense."
Disappointed at not finding any juicy gossip, Dante smacked his lips regretfully:
"War, war. Isn't there a war every year?"
"Nobles blow the horns, and peasants charge with sticks."
"After the chaos, only the king and ghouls have full bellies."
"No, no, no, the ghouls might fill their stomachs, but the glutton king might not," Letho said, walking over with a jug of wine.
"The glutton king" was the nickname of King Henselt of Kaedwen among the common folk.
"Perhaps."
Dante filled his mug and said thoughtfully:
"Henselt's actions are strange. He claims to have declared war on the elfs, but his excuse is that an elf stole his jewels."
"An excuse?" Vesemir asked curiously. "You don't think it's true?"
Dante nodded and explained:
"No matter who stole the jewels, a direct manhunt would suffice."
"To declare war on an entire race because of it, don't you find that ridiculous?"
"Besides, on my way back to Kaer Morhen, I encountered the king's personal guards. They seemed to be looking for someone."
Letho probed, "Are you sure it was Henselt's personal guards? Don't they never leave the royal court?"
"A black unicorn on a yellow background, I wouldn't mistake that," Dante continued. "And I saw three sorcerers in the group."
Hearing this, Vesemir and Letho exchanged glances.
Letho said, "That is indeed strange. But if they were looking for someone, they didn't ask for your help?"
Tracking down monsters is the most important part of a witcher's hunt, based on sparse and incomplete clues. Footprints, bloodstains, scents – as long as there are clues, they can't escape a witcher's keen senses. Over time, every witcher becomes a natural detective.
"Not only didn't they ask, but they seemed to deliberately avoid me," Dante scratched his head in frustration. "I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong, but I can't figure out what."
Feeling guilty for causing Dante to be downcast with his casual question, Vesemir consoled him:
"If you can't figure it out, don't dwell on it."
"After all, this is a conflict between the elves and the King of Kaedwen. It has nothing to do with our Wolf School."
"We remain neutral."
Dante nodded upon hearing this and took a sip of his drink.
However, his furrowed brows easily gave away that he hadn't let go of the issue.
Sensing the atmosphere becoming tense, Letho raised his cup and said:
"Let's not talk politics while we're eating."
"Let's switch to a more interesting topic."
Vesemir nodded in agreement and then noticed Letho's mischievous smile.
His heart sank instantly, sensing that things might not be simple.
"What interesting thing?" Dante asked curiously.
"Vesemir lost his Elsa to an apprentice," despite Vesemir's master's skill, he couldn't stop Letho's mouth.
Dante hesitated and asked, "El...sa? That silver sword worth more than ten thousand Orens?"
"17,325 Orens. Yes, the very sword you're thinking of."
"What! Vesemir, is that true?"
Dante exclaimed in surprise.
His loud voice was particularly noticeable even in the noisy hall.
At the dining table, other witchers' attention was drawn.At this moment, Vesemir's face was as dark as the charcoal in the fireplace. As if anticipating something, Vesemir didn't reply but instead raised his cup high to cover his eyes.
"Hahaha, it's absolutely true. Let me tell you..." After laughing, Letho began recounting the morning's events in detail.
Several witchers nearby who had witnessed it firsthand also laughed and filled in the gaps. As the story unfolded with its twists and turns, even the more distant witchers pricked up their ears and gradually stopped talking.
Before long, only Letho's voice remained in the hall.
"...and that's about it."
After finishing his embellished story, Letho took a sip of beer to moisten his throat.
The silence at the table lasted only a few seconds before boiling over like hot water. Among the witchers, some admired the apprentice's strength, some confirmed the price of the silver sword, some good-naturedly teased Vesemir. And, of course, some were curious about the Witcher's Eye.
Unfortunately, none of the witchers at the table were fond of visiting the library, so no one could answer.
"Although I don't know what the Witcher's Eye is, it seems like you didn't lose unjustly," Dante patted Vesemir's shoulder in consolation.
Vesemir sighed, seeming to come to terms with something, and downed his beer in one gulp.
After wiping the foam from his beard, Vesemir thought for a moment and then nodded in acknowledgment: "Skilled in swordsmanship, intelligent, and able to remain calm and rational in the face of setbacks."
"Allen is a good kid!"
"I indeed lost fairly."
....
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