Time flew by.
In the regular rhythm of life, it felt as if, in the blink of an eye, the day of the May Day festival had arrived.
"Allen, the last group of people sent by the Duke has arrived!"
A cold female voice came from behind. Surrounded by blue bottles and jars, the witcher was momentarily dazed before turning around to see Vera. She stood at the door of the room, arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed, her gaze full of concern.
"The last group?" Allen hadn't fully registered, and he asked instinctively.
Vera rubbed her forehead, sighed, and said:"Tonight is the May Day festival, so of course, this is the last batch of people to take the sword oil back."
Huh?
Allen was stunned.
Is today already April 30th?
Ever since he completed Ianna's ritual and stopped having strange dreams, the witcher had left the goddess's sanctuary.
In fact.
Whether it was the voice, presumably belonging to the goddess Melitele, saying that the threat of the evil god would be resolved on May Day. Or the rumors that a bloody incident involving a monster rampage would happen unexpectedly during the May Day festival. Both the old Duke and the high priest were well-prepared.
Not only had the number of guards maintaining order during the festival's parade nearly quintupled, but the exorcism rituals along the route had also doubled.
Upon learning that Allen knew how to make a sword oil specifically for dealing with ghostly creatures, the old Duke had been purchasing wraith oil with no limits at 50 Orens per bottle.
You should know that the cost of making this sword oil was less than a single Oren per bottle.
As you can imagine.
The preparations both factions had made for the possible threat during the May Day festival were quite thorough.
During the breaks between making potions, Allen found himself a bit concerned. If nothing happened during the May Day festival, what kind of consequences would Ianna, who had taken full responsibility for this based on his words, face?
The nobles of Ellander, who were forced to share a significant amount of extra expenses and manpower, likely wouldn't be satisfied with just the explanation that "all crises were preemptively averted."
However, at this point, even if that voice came to him in another dream and denied the threat on May Day, these preparations couldn't be retracted. So, all he could do was prepare for the day, unsure if he should hope for something to happen or for everything to go smoothly.
As a result, for the sake of convenience while making potions, Allen moved into one of the guest rooms in Vera's residence. And to take advantage of the 50 Oren per bottle wraith oil bounty.
For these past days, Allen had been fully engrossed in making potions, to the point that he had lost track of time.
After all.
This kind of easy money-making opportunity was hard to come by. Once he returned to Kaer Morhen, he might not have any income for quite a long time. Although the funds for the Witchers could be requested from the school, personal money was always more convenient in certain situations.
Besides.
The more soldiers under the Duke equipped with specter oil. If something unexpected did happen during the May Day festival, the casualties would surely be significantly reduced.
To be honest.
He had a rather good impression of the city of Ellander.
"Knock knock knock~"
A series of knocks on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"Snap~"
A snap of the fingers.
The door opened.
"Master Allen… Lady Vera..."
Several knights clad in leather armor carried a large box into the room. After greeting the two inside, they quietly began packing the bottles of specter oil on the floor into the box. The knight leading them, fully armored, stood by counting the bottles, then walked over to Allen and handed him a leather document.
The witcher was familiar with this. It was a deposit slip from the Vivaldi Bank.
Unfolding the slip, he saw a written amount of 50,000 Orens, written in intricate Elder Speech.
In the lower right corner, Duke Mason's name was signed in elegant noble calligraphy, with a golden seal of an iris flower pressed into the wax beneath the signature.
"Sir Arthur, what's this?" Allen was momentarily puzzled.
"It's a deposit slip from the Vivaldi Bank," said Arthur, the Duke's captain of the guard. "This is the agreed payment from the Duke..."
50,000 Orens equaled a thousand bottles of specter oil…
These past days, he had made no more than two hundred bottles, so did Mary make seven hundred?
Allen found it a bit unbelievable.
Although she had started making potions a few days earlier than him, her alchemy skills were on par with his. At most, she could have only made an additional twenty or thirty bottles more than him.
Arthur seemed to notice Allen's confusion from his expression and explained: "You have 334 bottles of specter oil here. As for Lady Margarita, we haven't collected today's batch yet, but so far, she has made 472 bottles..."
That was still far more than Allen had estimated.
But the main issue right now wasn't the number of bottles, but why the Duke was paying an extra seven or eight thousand Orens.
So.
Holding the smooth leather deposit slip, Allen looked at Arthur.
Arthur waved his hand, signaling for the knights who had finished packing the sword oil to leave. Then, he said: "The Duke hopes that you and Master Vesemir can stay in Ellander tonight and attend the May Day festival."
Got it.
This was another commission.
The old Duke was quite generous—two witcher masters, each getting a commission fee of three to four thousand Orens. This was a top-tier witcher contract. And he had paid in advance.
Allen couldn't help but wonder how Ianna had convinced the Duke to be so thorough in his preparations, yet still so cautious. But Allen had never planned to leave in the first place. Even without the bounty, he would have attended the May Day festival.
As for Vesemir...
Allen thought for a moment and then shook his head internally.
Vesemir would definitely attend.
So.
Allen naturally accepted the deposit slip and said, "Please thank Duke Mason on our behalf."
Arthur nodded slightly, saluted, and then left the room. He was likely heading to Mary's alchemy lab next.
"Speaking of which…" Allen thought, "Ever since I moved here and buried myself in making potions, I haven't seen Mary much..."
Thinking about how Mary's number of specter oil bottles exceeded his expectations by over a hundred.
After bidding Vera farewell, Allen followed Arthur out.
---------------------
The place where Allen made potions was actually a guest room Vera had arranged for him. The alchemy equipment he used was his own portable set of crucibles. However, Mary's alchemy lab, while small and equipped with only one set of tools, had been set up at the far end of the corridor, away from the residential area, to allow better ventilation. This was another reason why Allen hadn't seen Mary much these past days.
Because of the long distance, Allen caught up to the knights who had gone ahead while carrying a large box, just as they reached the alchemy lab.
"Knock knock knock~"
The wooden door was knocked on.
"Lady Margarita, we are the Duke's knights. We've come to collect the potions," Arthur called out.
Soon.
The sound of a wooden chair scraping against the floor could be heard from inside.
After quite some time, the wooden door creaked open. The knights bowed and entered one after another.
Allen, along with Vera, who had somehow followed him, also entered behind them.
"Allen! What are you doing here?"
The witcher hadn't even gotten close to the alchemy room when he heard an exclamation. Immediately after, there was a loud thudding sound.
"Thud!"
Allen looked in the direction of the sound.
Near the alchemy table, a small figure wrapped tightly in a black cloth was sitting on the ground, extending two small blackened hands.
One small hand was holding its forehead, seemingly from having accidentally bumped into the side of the alchemy table in a panic. The other small hand was covering the spot on the face that was already wrapped in black cloth, though its purpose was unclear.
"Yennefer? Weren't you already sent back to Kaer Morhen with Clay?"
As he spoke, Allen instinctively glanced at Vera.
The sorceress was leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Clay was sent back..."
So it really was Yennefer!
"Allen... Mason's knights are still here..." Mary gently helped the small creature up, cautiously reminding him.
Only then did the witcher fall silent, watching the knights carefully place bottles of blue ghost oil into a box lined with velvet.
At this moment, Allen suddenly noticed that the alchemy room was quite spacious. Though it wasn't as big as the one in Kaer Morhen, it was far beyond what you'd call "cramped."
Besides the Specter Oil on the floor, there was also a portable crucible next to the alchemy table, identical to the one he used. In a basket beside the crucible, there were small white flowers with shriveled petals. And there was also a large jar of white, semi-solidified grease that had already been scraped halfway through.
It was processed bear fat and lard.
The crucible on the alchemy table reflected the blue light of the Specter Oil, clearly showing that a batch of the oil had just been brewed.
Allen glanced at the small creature sitting motionless in Mary's arms, as if it were pretending to be dead.
He started to consider a rather unlikely possibility. But Specter Oil required a bit of magical involvement, even if it was minimal. Yet this little creature had just begun learning ancient languages and basic spell gestures...
Was the possibility he was considering even remotely feasible?
The old duke's knights seemed to sense the strange atmosphere in the room. They were moving much faster with the Specter Oil bottles here than they had been with Allen.
In no time, under the watchful eyes of the three, they had closed the box. Then, Arthur nodded at Vera and Allen. He hesitated for a second before also nodding slightly in the direction of the little creature, then hurriedly left with the old duke's guards.
"Thud~"
He was polite enough to gently close the door behind him. The room was quiet for a few seconds.
Vera remained leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, but there was a smile on her lips, and she seemed quite amused. For some reason, it reminded Allen of the mischievous Yennefer.
Mary was holding the little creature, head lowered, looking pitiful. This left the witcher momentarily at a loss for where to begin. He glanced at the portable crucible and Specter Oil ingredients by the alchemy table, thought for a moment, and was about to speak.
"I'm sorry, it was me who begged Mary to keep it a secret and let me stay..." the little creature's hoarse voice said.
Though Allen couldn't see her expression due to the black cloth, just from the tone of her voice, he could tell she was scared and timid.
"Am I really that frightening?" the witcher asked himself.
Then he cleared his throat and looked at Mary. "So, this is why, as soon as I arrived, you said the alchemy room was too small for two people to brew potions at the same time, and you tried very hard to move the Specter Oil ingredients to my room?"
Mary looked up and gave Allen a sheepish grin, saying nothing.
Allen shook his head in resignation and then looked at the small crucible on the floor. In a soft voice, he asked: "Yennefer can make Specter Oil too?"
"Exactly!" It wasn't the little creature who responded, but an excited Mary. "Allen, you have no idea how talented Yennefer is in alchemy and magic..."
I know...
Allen thought as he looked at Mary's face, which was slightly flushed from boasting about the little creature's talents.
Surviving the Battle of Sodden Hill, where at least fourteen of the twenty-two sorcerers from the Northern Kingdoms perished, and later becoming a member of the Lodge of Sorceresses that shaped world events... Yennefer's magical talent was undoubtedly exceptional.
As for alchemy...
The original novels and games didn't specifically highlight it, but even the dwarven bankers, wealthy beyond measure, were willing to serve Yennefer. The Giancardi family, in particular, had even been funded by her.
It was clear that her alchemical skills must have been formidable.
Allen just hadn't expected that these talents would manifest so early in real life. To be honest, he hadn't thought that adopting Yennefer would pay off so quickly... at least not this soon.
"...And do you know why Yennefer was making Specter Oil?" Mary asked, after finishing her long praise.
Allen was taken aback and shook his head.
"Of course, to help you!"
Help me?
She had been avoiding me this whole time!
The witcher, puzzled, stepped closer to Yennefer and squatted down. He looked into the violet eyes hidden behind the black cloth and asked: "Is that true, Yennefer?"
As Allen moved closer, the small creature seemed a bit uncomfortable, lowering her head and shrinking into Mary's arms. The witcher helplessly looked up at Mary, as if asking with his eyes, "Was it really to help me?"
At this moment, Yennefer suddenly asked, "You're not mad at me for being disobedient?"
Allen lowered his head and looked at her. He stared at the little creature, as if trying to make eye contact through the cloth separating them. Allen thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Of course not. You didn't do anything wrong, so why would I be mad at you?"
A few seconds of silence followed.
"Then... did Yennefer help Allen?" the little creature cautiously raised her head just a little.
"Of course!" The witcher smiled gently and nodded.
Those extra hundred bottles of Specter Oil had earned him at least five thousand orens, not to mention the friendship of the old duke and the future benefits...
However, whether it was Yennefer or Mary who made the Specter Oil, once the May Festival was over and things had settled down, Allen would definitely give them their share of the money, including the commission from Vesemir.
As he was thinking this, the witcher's sharp eyes suddenly noticed a slight bulge under the black cloth.
"Does it hurt?" he casually asked.
But to his surprise, that simple concern seemed to poke a hornet's nest.
The little creature froze for a few seconds.
"Drip~ Drip~"
Clear, warm tears began to fall through the gaps in the black cloth, splashing onto the floor.
In no time, the ground was wet. The witcher suddenly felt lost, unsure what he had said wrong. Just as he looked helplessly at Mary, the little creature began to sob with a choked voice: "It doesn't hurt... it doesn't hurt..."
"Yennefer doesn't feel pain at all..."
....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
271. A Dying Man.
272. The May Festival King.
273. One Wave After Another.
274. The Dust of Heroes.
275. I Have My Battlefield.