A Distinctive Wolf School Master Set
The wind blows from the high mountains to the plains.
Clusters of clouds drifted past the moon and hovered above the city built of large bluestone blocks.
"No dragons flew above the 'princess's' castle, and no heavy troops surrounded it..."
"Horton lied."
Vesemir tied the reins to a tree beside the ancient road, his two dark golden Cat Eyes gleaming in the darkness, revealing an uncontrollable hint of annoyance.
It was precisely because of the urgency and anxiety in Horton's letter, which was so urgent, that he hurriedly returned to Kaer Morhen and then took Ailin down the mountain again.
They braved wind and rain along the way, and the young witchers developed blisters on their groins, attracting the attention of a high-ranking sorcerer who was hostile to witchers...
But when I looked at this...
Let alone dragons and heavy troops.
The sturdy walls of the city, carved out of the mountain rocks by the city of Fugen, showed no signs of having been besieged or attacked.
The trees and bushes outside the city gate were exactly the same as when I last came here...
No!
In fact, because it is the month of blooming, the trees are lush and the bushes are full of flowers, making it a truly vibrant place.
His apprentice was right.
Kedwen's army never reached this place.
"Hmm..." Ailin stroked the mane on Radish's forehead, "He definitely lied, but since we're already here, let's go check out Fujen first..."
He paused, then continued:
"We can't possibly send a distress letter to Kaer Morhen just to play us for a fool..."
"Then he's finished!" Vesemir angrily pressed down on his Black Wide-brimmed Hat, his one exposed eye filled with murderous intent.
Even if Horton is a dwarven master blacksmith, he has no right to play tricks on the School of the Wolf like this.
"Phew~"
Take a deep breath and calm your anger.
Vesemir looked up at the colossal city that lay sprawled among the mountains like a giant beast:
"Be careful when entering the city, just in case."
"OK."
Every Witcher who has undergone the Trial of Grasses is a born assassin.
Light steps, keen senses, abundant energy...
Especially at night, the city's alleyways are crisscrossed and sparsely populated.
In comparison.
Ailin was even more skilled in this art than Vesemir, who was dozens or hundreds of times older than him; he was completely at ease with it.
Even though I only visited Fujian once and stayed for a short day.
He always managed to find a suitable spot before Vesemir, avoiding blind spots in the sight of passersby and guards.
Startled, the Witcher Master could only barely follow behind him, pointing in the general direction with astonishment.
Well...
The School of the Cat is indeed professional in assassination, and the LV5 School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword is really useful.
After entering Fergen, the two witchers, because the city gates were closed at night, spent some time scaling the city walls without anyone noticing, and arrived at the stone house of Lord Fergen, the dwarven master blacksmith Horton Qui-Gon.
"The guards along the way are still from Ard. There are slightly more guards than last time, but this is normal given that the two countries are at war..."
As Vesemir muttered to himself, he surveyed the distribution of guards around Horton's residence and the expressions on their faces, abandoning the last shred of trust he had in the dwarven master blacksmith.
"Don't think about it anymore, Master Vesemir." Ailin patted him on the shoulder. "Judging from his breathing, Horton should be resting in his bedroom. We'll find out the truth if we go see him."
Vesemir nodded.
Emerging from the alleyway and dodging the lax guards, I took two steps forward and with a light leap, easily landed on the second-floor terrace.
Ailin followed closely behind.
The pale moonlight blanketed the terrace with White Frost, and the wooden door was tightly shut.
"Snoring"
A deafening shout squeezed out from between the cracks in the door.
"She slept quite soundly."
Vesemir sneered and pushed the door open.
The wooden door wobbled slightly, but remained firmly in place and was not pushed open.
The door was locked.
I glanced through the crack in the door.
A metal rod, about the thickness of a finger, lies across the center.
But this is no challenge for the Witcher Master.
Although Vesemir didn't know how to pick locks, he knew a basic fact: metal melts at high temperatures.
The Igni Sign has a high temperature that can melt steel.
He reached forward with his right hand, channeling his magic, intending to use a hand seal to melt the iron bar in the crack of the wooden door.
Ailin reached out and grasped the Witcher Master's right hand, interrupting him. "Let me do it."
"You're coming?" Vesemir paused for a moment, then instinctively stepped aside.
Doesn't it matter who uses Igni?
He stared at Ailin's movements in confusion, only to find that he was not using the Igni Fire Sign.
Instead, he fiddled with the door in front of him with his hands in a dazzling manner.
"Click~"
With a soft click, the wooden door loosened.
"Hmm!" Vesemir's gaze toward Ailin immediately changed.
The stealth they just did demonstrate Ailin's high talent; he's naturally sensitive to other people's gazes and suitable hiding places.
But this "lock picking"... no one is born knowing how to pick locks...
Where did his apprentice learn this skill?
"Ailin, you..."
"Just some trivial tips," Ailin waved his hand. "Business is more important."
Yes, compared to the pure skill in the School of the Wolf Two-Handed Sword, the ability to open some simple locks is also part of the School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword.
The lock on this terrace falls within the range of "some simple door locks".
Vesemir nodded, setting aside his doubts for the moment, and pushed open the door.
"Squeak~"
The wooden door was pushed open.
Horton Qui-Gon lies alone on the hard stone slab with his eyes closed, snoring loudly.
"Click~"
As Ailin locked the terrace door again, Vesemir had already walked to the dwarf's unique stone bed.
Smack!
He slapped Horton on the forehead.
The snoring stopped abruptly.
Horton opened his eyes in a daze, glanced at the Witcher Master, and then his eyes widened immediately.
"Visemi..."
"Keep your voice down!" Vesemir glared at Horton, covered his mouth, and only released it when he nodded.
To the two witchers' surprise, Horton's first words were not a terrified question, but rather a firm grasp on Vesemir's hand, exclaiming with delight, "Your School of the Wolf has finally sent someone!"
Ailin and Vesemir looked at each other in bewilderment.
"You mean that letter was forced upon us by the King of Ard ..." Vesemir rubbed his hair.
Fearing something might happen, he left his hat on his horse outside the city of Fujian. As the wind blew through his hair in the stairwell, he suddenly felt a little uncomfortable.
"To be precise, they were members of the Knights of Ard... but that's about right..." Horton, having changed his clothes, led the way with a lantern. "Demavend II always seems to have an unexpected talent for being despicable and shameless, doesn't he?"
The candlelight flickered, casting three large shadows in the narrow stairwell.
"He was like that back then..."
"They had someone steal your most beloved hammer, and while you were looking for it, they also stole your boiler and anvil. You had no choice but to agree to that scoundrel king's request, didn't you?" Vesemir interrupted. "You've told me this story many times already!"
"Ailin has heard of it too." After a pause, the Witcher Master added.
"Alright." Horton smacked his lips, glanced at Ailin, and his long black beard trembled.
He remained silent for a few seconds before recovering from being interrupted.
"Although I was forced to send the letter by Demavend II, I still have to say a good word for them."
Horton didn't stop, turning back to look at Vesemir seriously. "Demavend II was also forced into this situation."
What happened?
"Two or three weeks ago, Vengerberg was attacked by Greater Griffin..."
The Greater Griffin ... Ailin glanced at Vesemir instinctively, his eyes meeting those of the Witcher Master.
"That feathered beast suddenly fell from the sky one day, and the gust of wind from its flapping wings overturned a large area of shacks in the lower town of Vengerberg..."
"Then, almost every day, I would visit that city that had been nearly hollowed out by the war— Vengerberg was now probably the poorest kingdom capital in the entire Northern Continent. It was said that even Demavend II's personal treasury was completely empty— the Greater Griffin was no easy monster to deal with, and the few remaining guards in the city suffered heavy casualties as a result..."
"So they needed an experienced witcher, so Demavend II sent someone to me—I don't know which bastard leaked the news that you were staying with me—to prevent the carrier pigeons from being intercepted by the people of Kedwen, and to avoid the news of the chaos in the heart of Ard from reaching the locals, they used the excuse that Fergen was besieged and my life was in danger, hoping to attract some Witcher Master from the School of the Wolf..."
"I never expected it to be you... the two of you..."
"By the way, when I last heard news of you, weren't you still in Arland? How did you receive my letter?"
Before the two witchers could answer, the dwarf suddenly seemed to remember something, his hand stroking his long beard paused, and he turned to look at Ailin, revealing a hearty smile:
"Well done, May King of Arland."
"Only a demon hunter like you is worthy of the beauty I've meticulously crafted. Believe me, when you see her, you will fall in love with her..."
"Enough of this, Horton!" Vesemir interrupted the dwarf. "So, Demavend II wants someone to destroy that Greater Griffin, is that it?"
"This isn't off-topic... alright, alright..." Under the Witcher Master's glare, the dwarf backed down. "That's pretty much the gist of it. Driving it away is fine, as long as it doesn't attack Vengerberg again..."
"Because of that hairy beast, the road for supplying materials from Vengerberg to the front lines is completely unusable. Now we have to take a long detour, which puts a lot of pressure on logistics."
"It is said that Ard is gaining momentum at the front, Demavend II is so anxious that his eyes are bloodshot. One day, the granary in the capital was ravaged by that beast, and he almost rushed up to take the Greater Griffin down with him. Fortunately, the guards acted quickly enough."
"When you go to Vengerberg, you can ask for an exaggerated fee. This is a rare opportunity to make a fortune..."
"Why not go find the male wizard..." Vesemir pursed his lips, his brows furrowed. "What I mean is that Vengerberg should also have court wizards. Killing a Greater Griffin might be difficult for them, but driving it away should be manageable."
"Don't say such unprofessional things, Vesemir ..." Horton didn't turn around, paused for a moment, and then continued down the stairs.
Even farmers in the countryside know that the wizard's stronghold is in Kedwen.
"Besides, that Fritz from Vengerberg was recently imprisoned in the dungeon with Aetherium shackles on his head for espionage—advocating war, leaking important intelligence, inducing monsters, and damaging roads."
"Demavend II is just despicable and shameless, not stupid."
He finished speaking.
The entire stairwell suddenly fell silent.
Only the sound of three people's footsteps echoed back and forth between the hard, cold stone walls.
"Horton, you know the School of the Wolf..."
"We've arrived!" Vesemir was interrupted by the dwarf before he could finish speaking.
The two witchers looked up.
A dark blue Metal Door, shimmering under the candlelight, appeared before us.
The Metal Door was etched with countless intricate runes, as well as many wrench-like and wheel-like objects.
Although Ailin didn't know the meaning or function of the runes engraved on the Metal Door, he recognized that the dark blue texture was clearly the most expensive metal in the world— Aetherium.
This isn't a lock that Igni could melt open.
This isn't the place where they had their body measurements taken the last time they came.
"Please turn your back to me," the dwarf said.
The two witchers exchanged a glance and turned away on their own.
"Crunch—Sizzle—"
Various strange sounds of metal rubbing and mechanical operation.
A while later.
"That's fine."
The Witcher turned around at the sound.
The dwarf's right hand was gripping the dark blue wrench, a proud smile on his face:
"The treasure room contains my proudest works, the world's rarest materials, and countless treasures."
"Vesemir, Ailin, if it weren't for your good character in the past and my good relationship with the School of the Wolf, I wouldn't have brought you here in the dead of night."
Then, before the two witchers could speak...
"Sizzle—"
The heavy, Aetherium gate opened.
A chilling, white mist instantly billowed out, filling the entire corridor.
As the fog dissipated, the dwarf proudly raised his head and stroked his beard.
Behind him was a huge Aetherium "box" that was almost the size of the Kaer Morhen Castle hall.
Yes.
Under the candlelight in the dwarves' hands and the magic lamps in the treasure room...
The ground, surrounding walls, and ceiling all shimmered with the unique blue glow of the Aetherium.
The entire treasure room is a giant Aetherium safe.
Looking inside, Ailin saw for the first time what true glitter and jewels looked like.
Aside from some precious magical materials, the majority of items were swords, hammers, knives, axes, and various types of armor, almost all of which radiated a gentle magical glow.
"Buzzing~"
The School Emblem on the chests of the two witchers hummed greedily and violently.
However, none of them paid attention to the vibrations in their chests.
After scanning the treasure room, Ailin's gaze almost instantly locked onto a set of medium-sized red armor in the northeast corner.
He had a strong premonition.
That's his Wolf School Master Set.
But...
"This looks so different from what Vesemir is wearing!"