Repaying a Favor or Owing Another?

When the Witcher returned to the crossroads, the moon was still high in the night sky.

The campfire crackled and popped, and the snores from inside the tents rose and fell, making the howling mountain wind less harsh and more lively.

Are you on night watch tonight?

The two witchers tied up their horses and asked the approaching witcher, Kray, "Where are Ryan and Charles from the caravan?"

"I just saw them walk that way."

Kray, still half-asleep, pointed in the direction of a thicket of bushes. The shadows of the trees and leaves were faint, and there seemed to be flickering firelight inside, suggesting that there were people there.

Vesemir and Ailin exchanged a glance.

Ryan and Charles were keeping watch with Kray because of the situation in Vergen that Ailin and Vesemir had found out, but for some reason they were hiding in a corner.

"Smack!"

Vesemir slapped Kray on the back of the neck, and the young witcher immediately shuddered.

"Keep a good watch and don't doze off!" the Witcher Master whispered a reprimand, then walked in the direction Kray was pointing.

Ailin gave the young witcher who was making a face a pitiful look, and followed him.

"Swish~ Swish~"

They hadn't walked more than a few steps into the depths of the woods when the night wind, carrying with it the sounds of conversation, blew over.

"... Today it was Free Angell's dereliction of duty... commission..." Ryan's voice was broken by the messy wind.

"Ryan, let's not talk about this anymore," the caravan owner's voice gradually became clearer as he took a few more steps closer. "We've been cooperating for so many years... Today... today's events were all caused by Sally's willfulness, and it even ruined so many of your brothers..."

"Charles, Sally is still young. In the end, I didn't think things through... This money... I feel guilty taking it..."

"Stop being stubborn, Ryan. You're not a kid anymore... If you don't take this money, what will happen to your brothers who died today? How will you support them..."

"I..."

"Stop talking. If you really feel guilty, then be more careful on the road ahead, don't make any more mistakes, and get to Fort Dallas safely..."

"But..."

"The fault isn't ours. Who could have imagined that the familiar, established path would suddenly lead to the battlefields of Kedwen and Ard? War, war, it was war that killed my Liss..."

The Witchers exchanged bewildered glances as they listened to Ryan and Charles's conversation.

It's always been the mercenaries who sell their power and live on the edge who complain about the low pay and have conflicts with their employers.

I've never seen a mercenary voluntarily request a pay cut because they failed to protect their employer...

The mercenary hurriedly refused, but the merchant insisted on giving him money.

That's quite unusual...

but...

Since they weren't plotting anything that would harm them, the two witchers decided not to eavesdrop on their conversation any further.

"Cough cough~"

He coughed lightly twice, making some noise again.

Not long after, two figures, one tall and one fat, carrying torches, emerged from the woods.

In the firelight, the short, stout merchant Charles looked pale and his hair was slightly disheveled; he did not appear to be in good condition.

However, upon seeing Ailin and Vesemir, he still came forward, forcing a smile, and asked in a slightly anxious tone:

"Master Vesemir, Master Ailin, what is the situation in Fergen? Is he besieged by an army? Should we take a detour?"

"Fujian is safe and sound, everything is normal. He can rest for the night and head out tomorrow morning," Vesemir said with an apologetic smile. "We received false information."

"It's inevitable. It's good that nothing happened." The fat businessman looked relieved.

They tacitly refrained from asking what kind of false information could have brought nine highly skilled witchers together.

Just as the Witcher didn't ask them why they were wandering around during the war.

"But since it's fake news, what are your plans next?" Ryan asked curiously, holding his torch and avoiding the low branches.

Charles's eyes lit up upon hearing this, and he quickly added:

"If you two don't yet have a specific destination in mind, why not come with us to Fort Dallas? The reward will certainly not disappoint you."

"No," Vesemir glanced at Ailin and shook his head. "We have other things to do and we're not on the same path. After leaving Fugen tomorrow, we'll have to part ways with you."

"Oh, I see..." Charles said with a hint of disappointment. "That's such a shame."

The group turned back and walked towards the camp.

"Oh, right," Ailin suddenly thought of something, "When you pass through Vengerberg, you'd better go around that capital."

Charles and Ryan stopped at the same time, tilting their heads in confusion.

"Why?"

"It's said that monsters harass the area every day," Ailin said. "And two months ago, before Ard declared war on Kedwen, Vengerberg was already hunting down mercenaries and idlers with weapons and sending them to the front lines. The situation is only going to get worse now."

Charles and Ryan exchanged glances before simultaneously thanking Ailin.

Vengerberg was, after all, the capital of Ard, rich in resources and with smooth roads, so the caravan originally had the idea of replenishing its supplies in Vengerberg.

If the situation is really as the Witcher said, it's possible that once you enter the city, you won't be able to get out.

"I owe you two another huge favor..." Ryan said with emotion.

Upon hearing this, Ailin joked, "Then how about we return one?"

Ryan paused for a moment, then immediately stopped, turned to face the Witcher, and solemnly said, "Master Ailin, please speak. The Free Anglin Mercenary Group will do its best to fulfill your request."

"It's nothing serious," Ailin waved his hand to indicate that there was no need to be so serious. "Kaer Morhen is a remote and isolated place, and this false information caused us to make a wasted trip. So I would like to ask you to send a letter to Kaer Morhen every month or two, and record in the letter any events that you think the School of the Wolf needs to know."

"Hey! This is no big deal, there's no need for a favor." Ryan shook his head.

"Our Charles Chamber of Commerce can also do this," the merchant quickly added. "And although our chamber of commerce is not very large, we have branches in Ard, Kedwen, Temeria, and the United Kingdoms of Lyria and Lyria."

"Then I'll leave it to you." Ailin smiled gently.

Information stagnation is really unbearable.

Whether or not Fugen was besieged was not a secret, but because of the information stagnation, Horton Qui-Gon's identity, his relationship with the School, and the Wolf School Master Set, they had to rush over.

This time it's at least a harmless request; I can accept it or not.

But what about next time?

The living conditions for witchers in the Northern Continent are visibly deteriorating, and who knows if the next one will be a trap.

Therefore, he could no longer wait until he had fully considered the matter and until the School of the Wolf had enough Witchers to permanently station one in each major city. He had to start building the school's intelligence network now.

Unfortunately, he really didn't know anything about this, so he could only try it out haphazardly for now.

Ryan and Charles are fairly trustworthy, and for the time being, there is no need for them to be particularly reliable.

"It is our honor."

"It would be my great honor."

The two agreed and began asking how to deliver the letter to Kaer Morhen.

"Well..."

I really don't know much about this, Ailin.

Vesemir has always been in charge of delivering and receiving mail.

"At the foot of the Blue Mountains where Kaer Morhen is located, there is a village called Kaer, and you..."

Vesemir seemed to sigh softly, glanced at Ailin with a complicated expression, and then explained how to send the letter.

After the Witcher Master finished explaining, Ailin thought for a moment and said:

"Sending letters is quite expensive, and we can't let you spend that money..."

"Master Ailin, please don't say that!" Ryan said urgently. "If it weren't for you, I would have become Ghoul food long ago, and the Free Angelin would have been wiped out..."

"Yes, and sending letters doesn't cost much..." Charles added.

"One month, two months, or even half a year is fine, but it definitely won't work in the long run." Ailin shook his head, interrupting the two.

After thinking for a moment, he took out several bottles of Necrophage Oil from the reagent bag and handed them to Ryan.

"This is Necrophage Oil. Applying it to the blade will make it easier to kill ghouls and other Ghoul -eating creatures."

Ryan, who had instinctively taken the Sword Oil and was about to argue his case, was stunned for a moment.

But before he could say anything, Charles carefully held the Sword Oil in both hands and examined it closely:

"Master Ailin is too modest. This... this is not something that is 'easy'."

"Hmm? You know about Necrophage Oil?" Ailin asked curiously.

Charles nodded:

"I saw it when I passed by La Valedi half a month ago. It's pretty much known throughout Temeria. As long as you apply this Sword Oil to a longsword, even a steel sword can be used like a silver sword."

"What!"

Ryan exclaimed in surprise, nearly throwing away the Necrophage Oil. After regaining his senses, he was so frightened that he quickly grabbed the bottles of blood-red potions and hugged them tightly.

Having just suffered at the hands of Ghoul during the day, he understood better than anyone the meaning of "a steel sword can be used as a silver sword".

Silver weapons are expensive and very easy to wear out.

Although the Free Anglin Mercenary Group prepared silver weapons for everyone, these "silver weapons" were actually just a thin layer of silver plating.

When faced with a large-scale Ghoul during the day, most mercenaries' plating was quickly depleted.

As the story progressed, the mercenaries could only use their shields to repel the monsters, and only a few of them, clad in heavy armor, were able to kill the Ghoul.

Otherwise, while they might not be able to completely eliminate the Ghoul, the time it would take for the battle lines to collapse would certainly be extended considerably.

"Master Ailin, where... where can I buy this kind of potion? How many Oren?" Ryan hesitated for a few seconds, his tone revealing his urgency.

"You can't buy it." Charles shook his head. "It's produced in Aretuza, Vesemir's alchemy workshop."

"Currently, only Arland can see it, and it is only for use by the Monster Hunter Army."

"Forget about whether you can even buy it, even the king's guards in Vizima —the capital of Temeria —haven't been used yet."

Charles knew all the details.

It's clear they've considered using Necrophage Oil.

No wonder, as long as water ghosts and Ghoul exist in this world, which merchant can suppress his desire for Sword Oil, which is practically a hard currency?

"I see..." Ryan, somewhat disappointed.

But upon reflection, something seemed off.

Etc!

Since I don't even have Vizima, where did the Necrophage Oil in my hand come from?

Charles had also thought of this.

The two of them looked at Ailin almost simultaneously.

"The recipe for the Necrophage Oil was Ailin's idea," Vesemir glanced at Ailin and, seeing that he did not object, continued, "His alchemy teacher was the Bloody Red Fox — Lady Vesemir, Vesemir's Alchemy Workshop was also helping him produce consignment potions."

Charles, Ryan:?

A witcher who only knows swordsmanship and rudimentary magic tricks, an alchemist who created such an amazing alchemical formula from Bloody Red Fox?

How are these almost mutually exclusive elements combined together?

Not to mention...

The two carefully examined Ailin's face, which, though not angry, exuded an imposing aura that commanded respect, yet still appeared somewhat immature.

Not to mention he's only fourteen!

Under the incredulous gazes of the two, Ailin nodded slightly. "The Necrophage Oil is indeed the formula I came up with."

The woods were quiet for a moment.

The only sounds were the rustling of the trees in the mountain wind and the crackling of the burning pine resin in the torch.

"Yes..." Charles's chubby face revealed a complex expression of excitement that he tried hard to conceal. "Master Ailin and Master Vesemir appeared in Arland just over a month ago during the May Festival."

"The Necrophage Oil also appeared suddenly after that."

"It's truly... truly unexpected. Master Ailin not only became Witcher Master at such a young age, but also has extraordinary achievements in alchemy..."

He truly is a professional businessman.

Charles showered him with praise, one after another.

However, Ailin knew what he meant.

"You want to get a license to sell Necrophage Oil?" he asked.

Charles's tone suddenly faltered.

The pale but round, chubby face shook violently, about to speak.

"Okay." Ailin nodded casually.

"Huh?" Charles was taken aback for a moment, then his expression suddenly turned serious. "What do I need to give in return?"

"Take Ryan with you," Ailin glanced at the mercenary leader, "And then, as we agreed before, just send a letter to Kaer Morhen every month."

"When I see Lady Vesemir, I will give your name to the Alchemy Workshop."

Perhaps the Necrophage Oil was very precious to Charles and Ryan, but to Ailin it was just ordinary Sword Oil.

Besides, he was just a distributor, helping him make money.

As for whether this will affect the livelihoods of other witchers...

The effects of Ban Ad's Planetary Alignment are already taking shape, and now even neighboring Ard is being affected.

From now on, witchers will probably only complain that there are too many monsters.

"Of course, this only applies to Necrophage Oil for now," he added.

The implication that it only refers to Necrophage Oil is that there are other "bio-oils"... Charles was taken aback.

After hesitating for a few seconds, he asked:

Why are you treating me... and us so well?

Ailin: "Maybe it's because I find you guys more pleasing to the eye."

He finished speaking.

He nodded to the Witcher Master, and then the two Witchers headed straight for the camp.

Charles and Ryan were left standing there, staring at each other in bewilderment.

"Charles, are we repaying a favor, or have we incurred another huge one?"