The School of the Cat's Caravan

Upon hearing Vesemir's words, the long table of five fell silent for a moment.

Before today, none of the newly appointed Witchers had taken this fighting tournament seriously.

Huus, Bont, and Fred have made rapid progress in their skills over the past two months and simply cannot believe that they would lose to the School of the Cat apprentices who have also just become Witchers.

As for Ailin...

How could Ailin, who has become Witcher Master and is almost omnipotent, possibly lose?

They felt that the main danger of this journey lay with the king and the wizard, as Ailin had mentioned earlier.

But Vesemir's words revealed another possibility.

Even in the Apprentice Combat Tournament, Ailin might lose, or even die.

This was something they found hard to accept at first.

"Master Vesemir, all the dishes you ordered are ready."

A plump waitress came over with a tray, breaking the silence.

After thanking them, Vesemir looked up and saw the solemn expressions on the faces of his apprentices, and breathed a slight sigh of relief.

He knew he had achieved his goal.

Of course, not a single word of what he just said was false, but Vesemir had clearly exaggerated some of the crisis.

No matter how unscrupulous or unpredictable the scum of the School of the Cat may be, they would never dare to break the rules set by the King.

after all.

The School of the Cat not only relies heavily on the king and nobles for its work, but also needs the king as a powerful patron to handle the various troubles caused by its emotionally unstable members.

Therefore, compared to the School of the Wolf, they cared more about the king's gift money and also about the school's standing in the king's eyes.

While ordinary Witchers of the School of the Cat might act recklessly due to their unstable emotions, the school's leader certainly wouldn't.

It is unlikely that they would defy and deceive the king, or hinder the school's other businesses in Kedwen, for a sum of money.

But there was no way around it; Ailin's performance before and after the Trial of the Mountains was too dazzling.

Vesemir could see that Huus, Bont, and Fred had a confident, even arrogant, attitude towards Ailin.

This mindset is dangerous, especially when facing cunning and treacherous cat-like witchers.

The dinner prepared at the tavern was naturally not as lavish as the feasts at Kaer Morhen.

However, the hot vegetable soup, paired with fried eggs, cream bread, and beer, still whetted the appetites of everyone who had walked all day in the mountains.

Fred wiped the plate dry with bread, then suddenly remembered that only two categories of events for the combat tournament had been mentioned, and asked:

"By the way, Master Vesemir, there's one more thing. What do you mean by 'melee'?"

Vesemir swallowed the last bite of bread and said slowly:

"The chaotic battles don't always happen in every match, and there have never been two of the same thing..."

"Hmm... I remember the last time was when we fought against the same number of knights... and the time before that, it was when we teamed up with the School of the Cat to hunt down water ghosts..."

Vesemir paused, then continued:

"This project is usually for entertainment purposes and will not be included in the final score."

Seeing the lingering worry on everyone's faces, he added a word of reassurance:

"Although the king has some dissatisfaction with the School of the Wolf, he is, after all, a big shot and won't target you specifically."

"So all you need to do is watch out for the School of the Cat's Witchers."

Each school of Witcher has its own school.

The School of the Wolf has Kaer Morhen of Kedwen, the Griffins have Kaer Seren of Poviss, and the Viper built Gorsvid in Nilfgaard...

All Witcher schools, including the School of the Bear and the Lion School far away in the Koraz Desert, have their own castles.

Aside from the School of the Cat.

They led a nomadic life, wandering from place to place using a caravan called Dyn Marv as their base.

As for the locations of the apprentices' mutations, they were placed in various hiding places, and many camps were set up to provide training grounds for the apprentices.

A clearing in the woods somewhere in Kedwen is such a place.

Several figures carrying two swords formed a small circle.

A strangely shaped caravan was parked next to this circle.

"Ping! Ping!"

The sound of steel rubbing against each other echoed incessantly.

Two children who looked to be only thirteen or fourteen years old were fighting with steel swords that were completely disproportionate to their physiques.

Upon closer inspection, both steel swords gleamed with a chilling light, revealing that they had both been sharpened.

"That's it, you little bastards..."

"Damn it! How many times have I told you! Speed! Speed! Speed!"

"Gulp... Stare into the opponent's eyes, and thrust your sword out with lightning speed and precision, no matter who the opponent is... Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

Incoherent ravings, whether curses or gesturing, emanated from the shadows of the caravan, accompanied by the strong, greasy smell of cheap ale.

Perhaps caught up in the conversation, the speaker suddenly jumped off the caravan.

Although the man's body appeared somewhat unsteady due to the inferior alcohol, he landed silently, like a wildcat, and nimbly leaped between the two children in a few steps.

"Come on! You little bastards! Kill me with your swords!"

Faced with this insane act, the two children were not afraid at all. After exchanging a glance, they revealed a fierce and crazed look of hatred and madness, and without hesitation, they slashed at the person in the middle.

The onlookers showed no surprise, watching with great interest.

Several people even unconsciously raised their right hands, as if they wanted to draw the steel swords from their backs and join this unfair fight.

A hooded man leaned against the caravan and asked, turning his head:

"Treyis, are you sure you want to accept the ' The Glutton's' bounty to hunt those wolf pups?"

The bald man standing to the side, arms crossed, didn't turn around and casually said:

"Why not?"

"Killing a gang of bandits only costs 50 Oren, and a nobleman has to issue a bounty."

"And a wolf cub is worth 500 Oren."

"Unless we rob a caravan, this price would keep even me busy for half a year. Why should I refuse?"

The hooded man's face revealed a rare calm and restraint typical of School of the Cat witchers:

"Treyis, don't tell me you don't understand what the Glutton is trying to do?"

"He wants to start a civil war among the Witchers!"

The bald man tilted his head and glanced at the amber Cat Eyes gleaming beneath his hood.

The owner of those beautiful eyes is one of the few witchers in the school who can maintain his sanity.

He didn't answer directly, but remained silent for a while before suddenly asking a somewhat inexplicable question:

"Guksat, have you ever seen a wild cat?"

wildcat?

The hooded man was taken aback, unsure of what the school leader was trying to say, and could only reply, "Of course I've seen him. Is there a problem?"

The bald-headed leader of the School of the Cat, Treyis, watched the bloody battle unfolding in the training ground with a somber expression, and said:

"There isn't enough food in this world to go around."

"For a stray cat to avoid starving, it has to beg for food not only from stray dogs, curses, and sticks..."

He turned and gave Guksat, who was wearing a hood, a deep look, and said meaningfully:

"When necessary, the enemy can even be one of our own kind."