"Who are my parents?"
Allen paused as he closed the door, looking up at Vera.
On the dim staircase, the candlelight was faint.
The sorceress's face was calm, though most of it was obscured by deep shadows.
The air held the castle's unique damp and faintly decaying scent.
It was the smell of rats or some other small animal, in some obscure corner of the grand gray-stone structure, dried, decayed, and decomposed by time.
Even the most diligent cleaners couldn't rid the old castle of this odor.
It was like how, as humans age, no matter how often they wash, they can't quite avoid the inherent scent of old age.
A faint whiff of clove floated on the breeze along the stairs, seemingly trying to mask the smell… But perhaps because of the distance, it couldn't fully cover it.
Or perhaps, being too close only made the faint decay smell all the more pungent.
For reasons unknown, breathing in the complex scent on the cool castle breeze…
Allen looked at the sorceress standing seemingly casually before him, and a strong premonition washed over him…
Perhaps…
The reason Vera had come here at this hour, using a portal in such haste, only to linger at the door for a long time, was precisely to ask this question.
Why was she urgent? Why hesitant? Why fearful?
And why…
"Why are you suddenly asking this? Does Lady Vera know who my birth parents are?"
After a moment of silence, he observed Vera's expression carefully, curiously asking back.
"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," the sorceress brushed a few stray strands of hair back, and the damp, decaying scent in the air lightened a little. "But as long as you want to know, I can always find a way..."
She was evading… The witcher frowned, realizing it at once.
But why was she evasive?
The witcher continued studying the sorceress's face, but her nearly perfect, exquisite features remained unchanged. Red hair and red eyes, symbols of heat, appeared as calm as frost on a mountain top.
Just like always.
It was as if she wasn't the one asking, but he was the one pleading…
He was yearning to know the people connected to him by blood, those who had abandoned him, betrayed him. And as a twice-orphaned person, this made him deeply uncomfortable…
Did he really want to know?
"No need to bother with that for now. I'm doing fine," Allen instinctively declined.
The sorceress's right hand, which had just been lowered, froze for a moment. She nodded, turned without hesitation, and left.
Tap, tap, tap~
Footsteps echoed down the cold stone stairs.
Watching the sorceress's figure recede, the witcher leaned against the wooden door, his right hand unconsciously stroking the smooth carvings, as if lost in thought. But he didn't think for long.
"If one day..." A cool voice came from not far away, breaking his thoughts.
Looking over, he saw the sorceress standing at the bend in the staircase, lightly resting her hand on the dark gray stone wall.
"If you want to search... for them…" Her red eyes sparkled with complex emotions in the darkness as she locked eyes with Allen.
For some reason, her already halting words came to a sudden stop.
The sorceress stood in silence for a moment. Her thin lips parted slightly, then pressed together once more.
"Forget it, just pretend I didn't say anything."
Then...
Unexpectedly, the witcher heard nothing further, saw no actions, just a simple, calm, "Don't overwork yourself."
And then she disappeared from his view.
Only the sound of hurried footsteps echoed, growing fainter and fainter. The space by the wooden door was once again filled with that faintly decaying dampness.
Bang~
The wooden door closed gently.
The candlelight cast flickering shadows, and the cup on the small brown round table beside him still steamed.
The witcher sat back on the high-backed chair by the table, closing his eyes to ponder his recent conversation with the sorceress.
The head heir to the Wolf School… and his birth parents...
Honestly, given his relationship with Vera, and everything the sorceress had done for him in the past…
Either of these topics, in hindsight, he had refused rather bluntly, perhaps even coldly.
But Allen had no choice.
Though the Wolf School was loosely organized, a place where many witchers banded together after being cast out, to outsiders, its head was still seen as a heroic figure, a moral icon.
Even a loose organization was still an organization, and even weak power was still power.
From a witcher's perspective, a highly skilled, nearly hundred-person armed group was already a formidable political force.
Just look at how King Henselt of Kaedwen, a ruler of a nation, was so wary he wanted to eliminate it altogether.
Therefore…
There were surely many within the school with an interest in that position. Moreover, the head was just an ordinary person, prone to changing thoughts and intentions over time. So, even if it made the sorceress unhappy, he had to express his desires with caution.
Revealing ambition too soon was never wise.
As for his birth parents…
"Is Vera 'my' mother?"
The witcher pondered.
His index finger tapped lightly on the table's surface.
Knock, knock, knock~
The faint tapping sound echoed around the spacious room.
Around the time of the high mountain trial earlier this year, he had actually considered this question several times.
After all…
He was different from Vesemir and other ordinary people.
While it was well known that becoming a sorceress meant losing the ability to bear children, he knew that there would be a rare exception in the future with Geralt. Seeing Vera's repeated, intentional care toward him, it was hard not to think in that direction.
Though sorceresses might have the ability to conceive, there wasn't a single case of a witcher having offspring.
Considering Geralt's infamously romantic nature in his past life, if witchers had such capabilities, no matter how low the probability, he would surely have left behind a lot of descendants.
Let alone having children with a sorceress.
Thus…
He'd dismissed the possibility at that time.
After leaving Kaer Morhen and with little interaction with Vera, he hadn't revisited the question.
But today…
Seeing Vera's unusual behavior reminded him of their time at the Melitele Temple, where she had gifted him precious magical materials and had even worked for free, crafting and selling necrophage oil…
Allen couldn't help but reconsider the possibility of his origins.
"Could it be…" the witcher murmured hesitantly, "that a sorceress and a witcher could never have children…"
"But a sorceress and…"
Halfway through his words, the witcher opened his eyes, and even though he knew the empty room contained only him, he couldn't help but nervously glance around.
He stopped, not finishing his thought.
After a moment, he shook his head: "Though sorceresses are known for complex romantic histories, I've never heard of Vera having any other partners…"
"On the contrary, despite her fearsome reputation, Lady Vera has always seemed to remain chaste in terms of relationships."
"And besides…"
"Vesemir mentioned once that the tension between Vera and the head only started about seven or eight years ago."
"At that time, 'I' was already born."
Thinking of this, Allen shook his head fiercely. As expected, no matter how he thought about it, there was no way Vera could be his mother.
He didn't know why, but somehow, he felt a sense of relief after ruling out the possibility. If Vera were his biological mother, the benefits for a witcher would be immense. Yet now, with this option eliminated, he actually felt somewhat at ease.
"Then there's only one possibility left," Allen's tapping finger suddenly stopped. "'I' must be the child of someone Vera and possibly the Head both know."
"Judging by my appearance, that person should be human."
"So, considering human lifespans, for them to know the Red Fox and the Head of the Wolf School, their status must have been high... uh... maybe my maternal side was a sorceress too. That would explain why Vera has treated me so favorably…"
The more he thought about it, the brighter Allen's cat-like blue eyes grew.
"That's it!"
"Before the mountain trial, because I was the child of a close friend, she naturally didn't want to send me to my death…"
"Teaching him alchemy, rituals, providing various magical materials unreservedly all makes sense…"
"The recent ghoul oil production and sale, too…"
"It's just… what was the connection between them and Vera? Could it be that one of them once saved Vera or Sol's life?"
"And now they suddenly want to find me and claim kinship? Could it be because of my reputation spreading through Ban Ard, Vengerberg, or Ellander?"
--------------------------
The witcher speculated. But it was all just speculation; he had no actual desire to recognize them as family. Even if they could potentially be of considerable help to Allen's cause. High status, wealth beyond measure, or even formidable strength…
On the contrary, the more powerful they were, the higher their status, the more Allen wanted to distance himself.
In the Wolf School, the origins of all apprentices were carefully recorded, especially those brought in by the Law of Surprise, who would be marked accordingly.
But in those records, Allen's background was completely blank. He wasn't a "product" of the Law of Surprise, meaning he wasn't forced to Kaer Morhen by his parents. Like in the previous life's game, where Lambert was sent by his drunken father as debt repayment, Allen had been deliberately abandoned.
As for why he was abandoned, he didn't want to know. Given the mortality rate of witcher trials back then, sending him to Kaer Morhen was hardly different from killing him.
So, it wasn't just because he was a thirty-year-old transmigrator who had no habit of casually claiming parents, but because, as an orphan who once led a modest but manageable life, he'd never entertained the thought of forgiving those who abandoned him.
Having absorbed the memories of his original self and understanding the "trials" and extreme suffering he endured, how could he ever compromise for a minor benefit? With his Witcher's Diary in hand, he didn't need to make concessions for that.
Moreover…
He wasn't the one with the right to forgive. The one who had that right was already gone, dying as he drank the decoction of grasses, enduring the brutal pain of skin melting and bones breaking.
Creak…
Sighing lightly, the witcher got up and closed the balcony door, left open from the sorceress's arrival. The room filled with the faint scent of sweet clover.
Standing by the wooden door, twice his height, he took in the familiar fragrance lingering at his nose, his mind wandering to the scene he'd returned to just yesterday.
The steaming bathtub, the neatly made bed, and the soft, plush rug…
"Such bad luck, Allen…" the witcher sighed again. "If only Vera really were your mother…"
"With her nature, no matter what damn Law of Surprise nonsense, she wouldn't have given you to the witchers to face such torment…"
"She'd have, like yesterday, kept the house in perfect order with magic, prepared everything well, and given you a warm, happy home…"
"But sadly, she isn't."
"Then again…" the witcher mused to himself, "if Vera truly were your mother, I probably wouldn't have transmigrated here. Though, that might not be so bad…"
"So, how should I put it…"
"Let's just hope that no matter where you're reincarnated, transmigrated, or reborn, you find a good family and a mom as wonderful as Vera!"
-------------------------
After a thousand wistful thoughts, Allen tidied up the room a bit. Then…
Thump thump…
His heart began beating with a unique rhythm once more.
Relying on oneself is better than relying on others. The night was still young, and today he was determined to complete a full cycle of [Beast Roar: Berserk].
-------------------------
Creak…
The wooden door opened.
The sorceress, looking slightly downcast, stepped into the alchemy room.
"Lady Vera!"
A startled shout suddenly came from in front of her, followed by a chaotic clatter of falling items that made her look up irritably. Her silly, clumsy apprentice was frantically trying to pick up the items that had scattered all over the alchemy table.
"For goodness' sake, already a fully qualified sorceress, and still so jumpy."
The sorceress frowned, feeling the urge to scold her, or perhaps snap her fingers to train her resistance to sleep and mental spells, as usual. But as she remembered the courage she'd barely gathered, only to be rejected again and again, she lost all motivation.
Couldn't she tell?
Allen… her child was clearly resenting her…
Resenting her so deeply, so coldly, and so unforgivingly.
The hardest winter ice on the Blue Mountains seemed no colder than this.
But what could she do about it?
She even thought he was right to resent her…
No!
It wasn't enough! Just resenting her wasn't enough!
He should hate her, despise her, and stab her right through the chest with his silver sword, right through her heart. The heart of the mother who had birthed him into hell, only to send him to hell's deepest, darkest, most hopeless depths.
A place where even the "Master of the Abyss" regrets, despises, and longs for death…
Her miracle child…
What kind of path had she driven her miracle child down…
"L-Lady Vera, are you alright?"
The cautious voice in front of her brought her back from the abyss of regret.
"I'm fine…" the sorceress waved her hand dismissively, too drained to scold, forcing herself to maintain a dignified posture as a mentor, and walked straight towards her own room.
But then…
A pair of polished, brown boots appeared before her, blocking her path.
Hm?
The sorceress frowned and looked up coldly.
She'd let her apprentice off the hook because of her bad mood, and now her apprentice dared to stand in her way?
"Margarita Laux-Antille!"
"What… do you think you're doing?"
.....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
314. The Situation Has Changed! The Wolf School is Moving to Aedirn!
315. The Wolf School is Done!
316. The Witcher Corps's First Group Hunt.
317. Stone Wants to Stay.
318. A Tribute to the Mother of All Things.