Would the School of the Wolf Be Willing to Move?

Upon reaching the entrance of the temple, a black carriage was already parked there.

Ailin had seen this carriage before, not long ago, when they were setting up Exorcism Ritual for the May Festival celebrations.

He remembered a very noticeable dent on the front of the roof, left from his charge against the Giant Ghoul.

As he approached, Ailin subconsciously looked at the roof of the carriage on the front side.

"Um?"

The Witcher let out a soft cry.

The dent is still there, but someone has painted it with gold trim to resemble a grotesque, spiked Ghoul.

"This is what Duke Mason ordered," the familiar coachman explained with a smile, noticing the direction of the witcher's gaze. "Lord Mason said it's an honor for this carriage to receive such a warrior's scar..."

"I have never seen Lord Mason appreciate a young man so much."

Upon hearing this, the Witcher looked at the coachman.

Only then did the driver realize that he hadn't introduced himself.

He straightened up and said, "My name is Sayaf Ponte. The Duke sent me to pick you, Lady Vesemir, Master Vesemir, and Lady Mary."

After a pause, he bowed deeply to Ailin again, expressing his sincere gratitude:

"You are a hero of Arland, thank you for saving our country."

After a moment of surprise, a warm feeling welled up inside Ailin.

"Thank you," he said with a smile, "But it wasn't just my doing."

"To be honest, it was Lady Vesemir who turned the tide; she was the one who eliminated most of the demons."

"Of course...of course..." the coachman quickly looked at the Sorceress, "Lady Vesemir also deserves credit..."

The Sorceress smiled slightly, appearing to be in a rather pleasant mood.

"Without Ailin buying me time, I wouldn't have been able to cast such a spell..." She waved her hand, interrupting the coachman, and stepped into the carriage.

The coachman was somewhat at a loss, unsure whether the notoriously petty and narrow-minded Bloody Red Fox was being sarcastic or tactless.

Was she upset because she greeted Master Ailin first?

Could she secretly turn him into a nasty leech?

Master Ailin won't be angry because of what he said, will he?

The driver's mind had never worked so fast; it was practically steaming.

But remembering the rumors that the Sorceress could read minds anytime, anywhere, his face turned pale, his mind went blank, and he looked at Ailin pitifully.

Ailin, of course, had no idea what had just happened.

In the coachman's mind, they had been simultaneously turned into leeches ten times by the sneaky Vesemir, and then boiled into ten different potions in the witch's cauldron.

However, he could guess that the driver was probably worried about offending Vesemir, so he comforted him:

"Don't worry, Lady Vesemir is a very generous Sorceress with a gentle personality."

Generous... Gentle...

The coachman took a closer look at the Witcher Master's youthful face and fell silent.

but.

He dared not think of anything at that moment, desperately suppressing the horrifying little stories that flooded his mind.

He was also afraid that Master Ailin might suddenly say something surprising that would leave him speechless.

Fortunately, at that moment...

"Good morning, Ailin, Lyra..."

Vesemir and Mary emerged from the temple, diverting the coachman's attention and drawing the attention of the Witcher.

"Good morning, Master Vesemir, Lady Mary..." Lyra brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and replied respectfully.

"Good morning..." Ailin replied.

But the next second, looking at the strange expressions on Vesemir and Mary's faces, he asked with some curiosity:

What's wrong with you all?

"Nothing... nothing..." The two shook their heads and waved their hands almost simultaneously.

Under the driver's heartfelt gaze of gratitude, Vesemir, seeing that Ailin was about to speak, quickly added, "Hurry up and get in the carriage, it's getting late."

Ailin looked up at the sky, said nothing more, and walked straight into the carriage.

The people outside all breathed a sigh of relief.

Watching the witcher's figure disappear into the carriage, Mary and Vesemir exchanged a glance before reluctantly following him.

Upon entering the carriage, the two men paused simultaneously when they saw the Sorceress turning her head to look out the window.

Then Vesemir sat down next to Ailin, while Mary glanced at the other empty seat next to Ailin and then obediently sat down next to Vesemir.

"Good morning... good morning... Lady Vesemir..." Mary greeted him cautiously.

Vesemir simply gave a curt "hmm" without even turning her head.

Damn it...

Did your supervisor "hear" something?

Mary glared at the Witcher, then placed her hands obediently on her lap and sat up straight.

Upon seeing this, Vesemir seemed too afraid to even greet them, closing his eyes to rest, as if meditating.

After Lyra got into the car, under Mary's shocked gaze, she sat down next to the Witcher without hesitation...

"Let's go!" the driver shouted.

Immediately following.

After a slight jolt, the carriage steadily continued its descent down the mountain.

"What's wrong?" Lyra, feeling a little uncomfortable under Mary's gaze, smoothed her hair behind her ear.

As her gaze wandered, Lyra noticed the mottled bloodstains on her dress.

Exhausted from days of rescue work and somewhat disoriented, she then realized that she hadn't taken a bath for many days.

Sniffing, she glanced furtively at Ailin, then cautiously shrank into a corner and whispered:

"Sorry, I forgot to change my clothes when I got back..."

"It's alright..." The Witcher glanced at Mary, then tugged at Lyra's hand, stopping her from retreating into the corner. "We're people who travel long distances often, we don't care about these little things."

Mary glanced at Ailin holding Lyra's hand, and felt a strange emptiness in her heart.

She knew why she was feeling unwell.

But after thinking about it...

It seemed that Lyra only knew Vesemir and Ailin in this carriage.

But it takes immense courage to choose to sit next to Vesemir.

Moreover, Lyra is clearly more familiar with Ailin.

Therefore, it is understandable, even reasonable, to sit in the empty seat next to him.

and.

Seeing how exhausted Lyra was from saving people, even she admired her.

then.

Mary smiled apologetically and said, "Ailin is right. We are people who often live outdoors and don't care about these things."

After pausing and glancing out the window, she continued with her suggestion:

"We still have some time before we arrive. Why don't you hurry up and rest for a while first..."

"Thank you~" Lyra said softly, then glanced hesitantly at the remaining people in the carriage.

Although I was really tired, and once I arrived at my destination, another busy day would probably begin.

However, the etiquette lessons she received in childhood made her subconsciously avoid making unladylike, impolite, and inelegant gestures like dozing off in front of strangers.

"Mary is right, take a rest. I'll call you when we get there," Ailin said, picking up where Mary left off.

Lyra glanced at the Witcher, noticing the force in his tone.

He then said "sorry" again and leaned back in the soft velvet backrest.

A few seconds later.

Inside the carriage, the sound of steady, faint snoring filled the air.

"Roll~"

The carriage then jolted slightly.

Her face, slightly dirty but serene and pretty, slowly, slowly tilted and finally rested on Ailin's shoulder.

Ailin smelled the faint scent of blood and sighed softly.

He thought for a moment, then lowered himself down a bit so Lyra could sleep more comfortably.

"I've never leaned on Ailin's shoulder like this before..."

Seeing this scene, Mary felt her discomfort, which had just subsided due to pity and admiration, surge up again.

Especially when she thought about how the suggestion to let Lyra rest for a while was actually made by herself, a complex emotion that she couldn't even explain welled up in her, like the Pontar River during the spring flood season.

It got out of control.

When Vesemir seemed to sense something, she withdrew her gaze from the window, glanced indifferently at Lyra on Ailin's shoulder, and then turned her head to look at Mary.

Her pretty face instantly turned red, and she awkwardly looked out the other side of the car window.

Vesemir had opened his eyes at some point, stroking the stubble on his chin with his right hand, watching the scene with great interest.

His smile froze when his eyes met Vesemir's. He nodded ingratiatingly and then closed his eyes to "meditate" again.

that's all.

They remained silent the entire way.

Inside the carriage, there was only the occasional soft snoring of the young priest and the gradually softening sound of the wheels after Vesemir opened the door to remind him.

unconsciously.

The other passengers in the carriage were starting to feel sleepy.

but.

The Temple of Melitele was not far from the city gate, and no matter how slowly the carriage moved, it gradually came to a stop after more than ten minutes.

They arrived at their destination.

Lyra was gently woken up. She was dazed for a moment, not knowing what she saw, and her face immediately turned red.

"Have we arrived yet?" she asked softly, trying to divert everyone's attention.

Then, without making a sound, like a kitten, she stretched and gently brushed away the shiny parts of the Witcher's leather armor with her sleeve.

"Yes, we've arrived." Ailin nodded casually.

actually.

Which person present had a perception level above fifty?

Even Mary, who looked ordinary, had a higher perception attribute than him, reaching 76.

Moreover.

That glistening saliva didn't just start flowing from Lyra after she woke up.

Get off the carriage.

Ailin looked around.

Four days is clearly not enough time to restore this bustling city to its original state.

The bodies on the street had all been cleared away.

Suspicious dark spots can be seen from time to time on the brick and stone floor.

Looking into the distance, the ruins of many gate towers still stand.

Near the ruins, many tents have been set up, presumably to house the citizens who have lost their homes.

A wind carrying a faint stench of decay blew in the air, bringing with it sorrowful sobs from all directions.

In this atmosphere, everyone wore a sorrowful expression.

The coachman, Sayaf Ponte, stopped the carriage in a corner of the city of Arland, not far from the city gate.

This is a fairly large open space, and there are also many other carriages with various noble family crests parked here.

However, they were not the last to arrive; along the long street, there were still carriages heading this way.

"Squeak~"

The car door was closed.

Lyra straightened her clothes inside the carriage and was the last to get off.

"Follow me..." she whispered to the crowd, then led the way.

"Priestess Lyra..."

"Good morning, Priestess Lyra..."

"Lyra morning, Priestess Lysa, in praise of the Goddess Meritellie..."

Along the way.

Every now and then, someone would recognize Lyra, and then make way for her with reverence in their eyes, bowing their head to greet her.

Lyra nodded in return.

Moreover, it wasn't just those dressed simply; there were also many nobles whose clothes were embroidered with family crests and whose scents could be smelled from incense.

Obviously.

In the past few days, Lyra has done a lot of things behind their backs.

Following Lyra through the crowd, we walked up to the city tower from a secluded corner of the city gate.

Their destination seemed to be above the city gate.

"May King!"

Just as everyone stepped out of the dimly lit city tower, opening the door to greet the daylight, a surprised young man's voice suddenly rang out from ahead.

"Smack!"

A heavy thud followed immediately.

"It's Master Ailin!" a deep male voice reprimanded.

The Witcher looked in the direction of the sound.

The familiar silver armor, and the style of the longsword scabbard.

They were Duke Mason's Guard Knight, and at a glance, there were no fewer than fifty men standing neatly on the city gate tower.

"Good morning, Master Ailin. May Cliff protect your sword and keep it forever sharp..."

The owner of the deep male voice bowed slightly, offering a respectful salute.

The young man who had been beaten for calling someone "May King" scratched his head, muttering something under his breath, and also bowed solemnly, saying:

"Good morning, Master Ailin..."

Immediately following.

It was that long row of "Good morning..." greetings.

The Guard Knight were full of energy, which made them look very imposing.

Other nobles passing by on the city gate tower were curious and asked those around them about Ailin's identity.

At this moment.

The richly dressed crowd gathered in the middle of the city gate suddenly parted to make way.

"Come here, Master Ailin!"

A hoarse, aged voice came from within, and the surroundings immediately fell silent.

"It's...it's Duke Mason ..." Lyra seemed a little nervous, her voice trembling as she walked in that direction.

After Ailin emerged from the city tower, Vesemir, Vesemir, and Mary appeared one after another.

I don't know what the considerations were.

The Guard Knight with the deep male voice merely nodded slightly and said "Good morning," only raising his voice slightly more for Vesemir's greeting.

The city gate tower was, after all, a military defense facility, so the space was not very spacious.

As the Witcher approached the Old Duke under the watchful eyes of the nobles with their heads held high, many nobles on the periphery were forced to move outwards.

However, most of the nobles here are quite old, so nothing disgraceful has happened.

The Old Duke's complexion was also not good; the skin on his face seemed to be sagging.

He looked exhausted.

I imagine I haven't been sleeping well these past few days.

As the group approached.

He leaned on his cane, his upper eyelids fluttering slightly as he nodded to Vesemir and Vesemir.

Then.

"Stand beside me!" he said solemnly.

The Old Duke's words caused a stir among the surrounding nobles.

We will not discuss attendants and bodyguards.

In such public places, there are rules about where people of different statuses should stand.

The Old Duke's side should naturally be his sons or nobles of slightly lower rank.

But at the very least, he should be Earl.

Even if a place is crowded, it will be vacated if there is no noble of the corresponding rank present.

However, Ailin clearly didn't have that many concerns.

He walked past the somewhat uneasy young priestess Lyra, and stood directly beside the Old Duke under the scrutinizing gazes of the nobles.

"You're good!" The Old Duke nodded in satisfaction.

Ignoring the commotion around him, he turned and looked down at the city walls.

The Witcher followed his gaze.

Below the city, a group of women dressed as priestesses of the Goddess Meritellie were gathered around many large urns, doing something unknown.

But before he could see it clearly...

A hoarse, aged, and authoritative voice suddenly came from beside my ear:

Would the School of the Wolf be willing to move to Arland?