Captain or Vice-Captain-Who Was Stronger?

Although I got up very early today, I spent time learning how to build a fortress from the chief, and in the castle hall with Vesemir, I spit on the dead King Haxor and chatted about the people and things we had encountered along the way.

Time flew by and it was noon.

The chef from the school entered the castle hall, went into the side kitchen, and tinkered around for a while.

They put several baskets of hot bread on the long table and set up a large pot in front of the fireplace to start cooking lunch.

Yes.

The School of the Wolf also has its own chefs, and like ordinary aristocratic families, they not only have chefs but also pastry chefs.

If Kaer Morhen had a climate unsuitable for growing grapes, there might even be dedicated winemakers.

Of course.

They are not ordinary people either.

These chefs and pastry chefs are all demon hunters who lost their fighting ability after failing to hunt monsters.

There are quite a few witchers in Kaer Morhen who do this as a side job.

They had served the school and humanity, so when they lost the ability to continue fighting, the school would take care of them and let them do what they could at the Ancient Sea Fortress.

However, they were all veteran demon hunters in their fifties or even hundreds of years, so their skills in these side jobs were quite good.

Let's put it this way: the bread baked in the morning, in terms of texture, softness, aroma, and taste, is far more delicious than anything Ailin has eaten since leaving Kaer Morhen.

Even the bread made at the temple of Meritellie is not as good as that made by these old witchers.

"Rumon, is this year much busier than in previous years?" When Vesemir saw someone coming, he stopped discussing whether Haxor was cinders or meat scraps and greeted them.

"Of course," the witcher named Rumon said without turning his head, continuing to put meat and vegetables into the stew pot. "In previous years, there weren't this many people left in Kaer Morhen. Those little brats probably ate them!"

"Aren't you tired?" Vesemir teased.

The old witcher glanced at Vesemir sideways and cursed irritably:

"Who do you think you are? While I was battling the demons for two days and two nights, you were still playing in the mud with the water ghosts..."

"If it weren't for that damned Giant Thornwood Tree, I would definitely have become a master much sooner than you..."

Vesemir seemed to know Rumon well, and he wasn't angry when he heard this. He chatted with him for a few more minutes.

In their conversation, no one pitied anyone, and no one envied anyone.

Those skilled at swimming drown; those skilled at riding fall.

Even Witcher Master cannot guarantee that they will always be the winner in battles against monsters.

Compared to his contemporaries who died young in some nameless place, or even before they left Kaer Morhen, Rumon's ending was already quite good.

Both Rumon and Vesemir held this view.

"Glug~ Glug~"

Bubbles, emitting an enticing aroma, began to rise from the stew pot.

The old witcher immediately fell silent, focused his attention on poking at the charcoal fire, then put the lid on and began to simmer.

After completing this series of actions, the old witcher stared blankly at the doorway and muttered to himself:

"More people is better, more people is better..."

He then glanced at Vesemir, nodded to Ailin, and went to the side room to prepare other ingredients.

Only then did Ailin notice that, under the shadow of the hood, Rumon's face looked as if it had been corroded by some kind of acid, making him appear ferocious and terrifying.

One eye was empty, and the other seemed to be covered by a murky white film.

Ever since drinking that cheap milk tea and transmigrating, Ailin has been focused on improving his strength, and soon after spring arrived, he went down the mountain again.

I've never paid any special attention to this group of people in the Ancient Sea Fortress.

In a daze, I suddenly felt a vague sense of destiny.

It was as if he were their past, and they were the future he was destined to face...

Ailin didn't like this feeling.

"Bang!"

Just as Ailin was contemplating his own fate, the castle gates were suddenly pushed open.

"I'm starving! I wonder what kind of soup Uncle Rumon made today..."

"All you ever think about is eating! Didn't you meet the commander yesterday? Tell me what he looks like..."

"What commander? You're not even qualified to join the Witcher Company yet..."

A cacophony of chatter suddenly burst forth.

"Youth is truly wonderful!" Vesemir remarked upon hearing this voice, then glanced at him sideways. "Speaking of which, you're only fourteen, yet you have no vitality at all, always looking worried like an old man..."

nonsense...

Ailin rolled her eyes inwardly.

Having just transmigrated, they were slapped hard by the Trial of Grasses, and before the extremely deadly Trial of the Mountains even began, the threat from the King and the Warlock arrived.

He just dealt with Haxor, and now the Wild Hunt has appeared. Even the Goddess Meritellie, who hasn't shown her face for centuries, has reappeared, forcing him to make a choice...

One problem after another, each more unsolvable than the last, suffocating people with pressure.

In this situation, what heart size is needed to be free from worry and enjoy life?

The more you know, the less happy you are—that's definitely true.

The laughter and playful banter of the Witcher apprentices abruptly ceased when they reached the dining room.

"Commander Ailin!"

A familiar voice exclaimed.

Ailin looked in the direction of the voice and, sure enough, it was someone he knew: Ernie.

He was among the first members of the Monster Hunting Legion to be recruited after Huus, Bont, and Fred. If I remember correctly, his loyalty level was around 80...

While exchanging a few casual pleasantries, a thought suddenly occurred to me.

Um?

Name: Ernie

Loyalty: 93

[Attributes: Strength 9, Agility 8.6, Constitution 11.2, Perception 7.4, Mysticism 4.5]

[Skills: School of the Wolf Two-Handed Sword LV2 (23/100), Ice Lance Spell LV1 (3/100), Quen LV1 (46/100)...]

After such a long time apart, how come the loyalty rating not only didn't decrease, but actually increased by four points?

Out of curiosity.

Ailin then opened the panels around Ernie, showing the six other members of the first Monster Hunting Legion.

Each person's loyalty level increased by a few points, and all of them were above 85, with half of them even reaching 90.

This is already a very high number.

If we were to translate this into the language of a typical game from a previous life, 50 and above would be neutral, 60 and above would be friendly, 70 would be trustworthy, 80 would be intimate, 90 would be loyal, and 100 would be die-hard loyal.

Based on the division of member permissions that he has been pondering these past few days.

Once someone reaches eighty or above, their skills can be passed on to them without reservation.

Once you reach level 90 or higher, you can open portals and hunt large monsters at the Conjunction of the Spheres.

Thinking of the commotion on the city gate tower yesterday...

"Could it be because Mary spread the word, and my experiences along the way played a role?" Ailin wondered to himself.

Just as he was curious and about to ask tactfully, the noisy apprentices suddenly fell silent from back to front.

Not long after.

A witcher carrying two swords, sporting a thick black beard, and with dark gold Cat Eyes walked over.

"Long time no see, Aristo." Vesemir went up to him and patted his arm.

"Not long, much earlier than usual." A smile broke out on Aristo's cold face.

Noticing that Ailin was also there, he nodded respectfully and sat down next to Vesemir.

"But I heard about your great achievements all the way in Kaer Morhen," Aristo exclaimed, glancing enviously at Vesemir. "You've been through so much in just six months!"

Is that too much?

Aristo probably has no idea what they went through after leaving Ben Ade.

Vesemir gave a wry smile, shook his head, and said, "A lot has indeed happened; I almost didn't make it back."

Aristo's hand, reaching for the bread basket, paused. It seemed there was a story he didn't know in Vesemir's words, so he asked curiously:

"What's wrong? After leaving Ban Ade, could you encounter anything more exciting than the death of a king?"

The apprentices around them also quietly took their seats.

However, no one reached for the bread on the table; instead, they all pricked up their little ears and stared intently at Vesemir.

Vesemir glanced at Ailin, who nodded subtly, then swept his gaze over the surrounding witcher apprentices, cleared his throat, and said:

"It's not necessarily more exciting than the king dying in front of you, but it's certainly not much less exciting."

He finished speaking.

Vesemir fell silent and stared at Aristo.

Not weak and the death of the king?

Arester, who had just broken open a piece of bread, ready to dip it in the steaming hot soup, suddenly became interested.

Seeing that Vesemir was keeping him in suspense, he put down the bread and asked helplessly:

"Is this story really worth a bottle of the old rules?"

"Of course!" Vesemir laughed heartily, looking at Aristo. "The Greater Griffin, the Wild Hunt, hundreds and thousands of wraiths, and..."

Vesemir paused, glanced at Ailin, and then continued:

"There's also a knighting ceremony and Cliff's honor ceremony..."

"Old pal," Vesemir grinned, showing his white teeth as if he had him cornered, "This isn't the kind of good story you can hear with just a bottle of the old rules."

Looking at Vesemir's expression, Aristo was already feeling a pang of regret even before he had agreed.

He was interested in every point Vesemir mentioned.

now.

The entire castle hall was so quiet it was suffocating. The campfire flickered in the fireplace, and the apprentices' ears were perked up, their hands frozen in place.

They all held their breath and stared intently at Aristo, afraid that he would refuse.

How many bottles?

Aristo's beard was trembling.

The moment he saw Vesemir proudly raise five fingers, he felt his powerful, pounding heart throb.

A long silence followed.

"You better have a story worth telling!" Aristo gritted his teeth, looked at Vesemir's smug expression, and shouted angrily, "Rumon, bring out five bottles of my old rule that I've been hiding there."

"Hahaha, don't worry, you won't be disappointed!" Vesemir laughed.

soon.

Wearing a hood, Rumon brought over a beautifully carved oak box.

The witcher, who had been watching the show from the sidelines, finally understood what the old rules were.

This is Toussaint's national treasure – East of the East Wine – with a history of nearly three hundred years.

And that's not all.

These wines were all bottled more than thirty years ago.

Actually, wine doesn't necessarily become more fragrant and mellow with age.

Generally, the best drinking period for wine is within one to two years after bottling. Only 10% of wines have the potential to age for five to ten years, while 1% of the top wines may reach their peak quality after 10 years.

The East of the East is in this one percent.

Even witchers would find it hard to imagine how much these five bottles of wine would be worth at an auction.

"Are we playing this high?" Rumon asked Aristo in surprise as he brought over the wine.

Even though many witchers have the habit of storing wine due to their long lifespans, a thirty-year- East of the East is still considered one of the few precious wines in Kaer Morhen.

"Rumon, you stay here too, be my witness..." Aristo glared at Vesemir with annoyance, "I want to hear how good his story is."

"If it's not worth these five bottles of the old rule, then take me to where he keeps his wine."

Rumon glanced at Vesemir.

"No problem!" Vesemir smiled confidently and snatched a bottle of East of the East with faded labels.

The moment the cork was skillfully unscrewed, a rich smoky aroma mixed with the fruity scent of grapes wafted out.

Almost simultaneously, the entire castle hall resounded with swallowing sounds.

"You're still young, just enjoy your soup. There's no wine for you." Vesemir smiled and poured a glass for Ailin.

Looking at the clear, exquisite wine, like a liquid ruby, slowly flowing down from the bottle like thick honey, Ernie and Klar swallowed hard and looked at each other.

If I remember correctly, Commander Ailin was only a year older than them...

However, seeing the solemn expression on Aristo's face, they wisely refrained from voicing their doubts.

With the aroma of wine in hand, the two of them took two big gulps of the stew.

But the usual delicacies seemed tasteless at this moment.

"Speak quickly!"

Ares poured himself and Rumon a glass as well, urging them on repeatedly.

"Don't rush!" Vesemir took a sip of the mellow wine, smacked his lips, and then began to explain:

"After leaving Ban Ad, we plan to proceed to Arland as originally intended..."

Although Vesemir's lectures were dry, his storytelling was truly excellent.

As the fireplace flickered gently, mingling with the aroma of fine wine, it seemed as if he had transported everyone to Vengerberg, to the Gors Velen, to Arland ...

Greater Griffin cast an immense pressure, Skeleton Knight galloped overhead, and countless demons carrying eerie green lanterns attacked human cities...

Throughout the story, Vesemir conceals and downplays himself in all the events, just as he does after the May Festival in Arland.

Ailin knew, of course, that this was not the case.

Whether it was the Greater Griffin or May Festival, although he may have made the greatest contribution, Vesemir played a crucial and indispensable role in both.

Therefore, many times he tried to correct it, but Vesemir simply covered it up.

Vesemir pressed his hand down on Ailin's push and gestured with his eyes, "Shut up and listen to me!"

At first, Ailin didn't understand that in Arland, it was to enhance his reputation and prevent all the credit from being drawn to the more famous Vesemir.

But why do this in Kaer Morhen?

But gradually, the Witcher apprentices looked at him with increasing longing and yearning.

A thought crossed Ailin's mind.

Name: Ernie

Loyalty: 94

Name: Ernie

Loyalty: 95

After opening Ernie's panel for a moment, his loyalty increased by one point, and the same was true for the panels of the other members of the Monster Hunting Legion.

The story isn't over yet, but it's already past ninety.

Moreover, looking at the apprentices who had just passed the Trial of Grasses, he estimated that their loyalty would definitely not be low once they joined.

Not only that.

Even Aristo and Rumon cast unusual glances at him.

for a long time.

The story is over.

"Is it worth it, Aristo?" Vesemir asked sarcastically, taking a breath.

Aristo did not reply. After staring at Ailin for a few seconds, he glanced at Vesemir with envy, even jealousy:

"I wish I had been the one selected as the apprentice mentor."

After speaking.

He sighed inwardly.

People are truly different.

While other traveling apprentices were glorified like legendary human heroes, his traveling apprentice Sali abandoned his companions without even seeing the enemy's face.

Vesemir burst into laughter upon hearing this.

At this moment.

A hushed discussion suddenly broke out among the apprentices who were watching the drama unfold:

"The veteran Witcher Master Aristo and their leader, Master Ailin..."

Which one is stronger?