The Truth Revealed?

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty, please... please come with me..."

"Lord Fao..."

"Let His Majesty go first!"

The council chamber was thrown into chaos and utter confusion.

For the past month, the Greater Griffin have been coming to harass us very regularly in the mornings and leaving before noon.

Therefore, Demavend II and his courtiers became accustomed to resting in the newly opened underground chambers of the palace and in their private rooms in the morning, and then discussing state affairs and war matters in the council hall in the afternoon.

As for why the meetings aren't always held underground?

Doesn't the king have any pride?

How can a court meeting concerning the future of the entire country be discussed in the shadows like a rat?

"That's so out of line! So out of line!"

Demavend II roared in fury.

At the same time, a strong sense of panic welled up in his heart.

The Greater Griffin changing the frequency of its normal attacks is no small matter.

If even the small number of people in the palace are in such a panic, it's easy to imagine the terrible state of affairs inside and outside Vengerberg.

The hard-won order will inevitably collapse in an instant.

What's even more frightening is that if there's no war, it wouldn't be a problem; the royal family would only suffer a slight loss of face.

But now!

Especially now that the situation on the front lines is so favorable!

Because of the attack by the Greater Griffin, the supplies such as food and fodder placed at the front line in the afternoon were already insufficient to meet the needs of the front line, and were becoming unsustainable.

The discontent within the city was palpable daily in the palace, and the protests at the Vivaldi Bank were merely a microcosm of the larger issue.

If the Greater Griffin isn't dealt with soon, no matter how hard he tries to maintain it, he won't be able to hold out for even a month... no... maybe not even half a month.

Even now, Demavend II dares not imagine what would happen if the Greater Griffin came to Vengerberg twice a day like today, and the front lines collapsed.

Let alone half a month, it might not even take three days before the sound of protests from Vengerberg fills every corner of the royal court.

Merchants and nobles would use various means to obstruct the war, and might even launch riots or palace coups.

"That damned beast had to do it at this time... of all times..."

Demavend II roared as he was helped away from the council chamber by his attendants.

He saw the portrait on the ground, which had been accidentally trampled on several times and whose wooden frame was broken.

The ambitious, sharp look in his eyes when he first ascended to the throne now seemed to be silently mocking him.

Is this all you aspire to?

Is this how the oath made to the late king's coffin is about to end?

Just because of a flying animal?

"Never end! Never!" Demavend II shouted.

"Your Majesty! Hurry! The Greater Griffin has arrived!" the King's Hand cried out.

"Thump!"

The magnificent wooden doors of the council chamber slammed shut, cutting off Demavend II's view of the monarch's portrait, and seemingly cutting off a dream of national revival as well.

"Ah!"

The chaos outside the council chamber was even greater, with palace servants, feeling the familiar oppressive aura in the air, running around aimlessly like headless flies.

"Don't block the way! How dare you! Let His Majesty go first!"

Protected by his guards, Demavend II and his courtiers finally managed to squeeze out of the crowd and hurried down the long corridor into the underground.

Demavend II waved away the attendants' support, lowered his head, and frowned, seemingly lost in thought.

The other ministers and attendants all knew that the king must be in a very bad mood, so they held their breath and dared not make a sound at this time to avoid bad luck.

"Da da da~"

For a moment, the only sounds in the long corridor were the footsteps of the crowd and the sounds of turmoil coming from outside the corridor windows.

Duke Mars, the white-haired King's Hand, sighed softly, quickened his pace, and leaned closer to the King's ear, whispering words of advice:

"Your Majesty, it's time to reconsider."

"What are you considering?" Demavend II turned around and asked instinctively.

Upon seeing the King's Hand's expression, his pale, slightly sweaty face instantly turned red.

"You're trying to persuade me to stop the war?!"

Demavend II immediately stopped and looked at the ministers around him.

Not only was the usually silent, middle-aged man in charge of intelligence found to be keeping his head down and remaining silent.

He has always advocated war, and the moment anyone expresses any inclination towards peace talks, he immediately curses the former Minister of Military Affairs. He stares silently at the stone wall of the corridor, as if it holds the secret to Ard's conquest of Kedwen.

"Your Majesty, the losses are not yet significant, and Kedwen has not yet noticed. If we miss this opportunity, the consequences will be unimaginable!"

The King's Hand staggered forward and took another step to persuade him.

Demavend II stared blankly, saying nothing.

"It's too dangerous here, Lord Mars, let's leave first." A Guard Knight came up to dissuade him.

Just then.

"Bah!"

Suddenly, Greater Griffin, came from beside the window of the corridor.

"Danger! Crouch down!"

Everyone squatted down simultaneously, leaning against the corner of the wall.

"Phew~"

The wind in the corridor suddenly picked up, blowing up her robes and hair.

But only for a moment, and then the wind gradually subsided.

"That... that monster flew away?"

The impetuous young knight, looking out the window, exclaimed in surprise.

"What?!!"

After confirming there was no danger, everyone cautiously approached the corridor window.

A repulsive, familiar figure flew westward beneath the clear sky, flapping its wings.

"What is that? Is the Greater Griffin holding something in its two claws?" someone asked curiously.

"Two horses, two black horses!" the Minister of Military Affairs said confidently, "And they're both alive!"

At this moment.

Demavend II suddenly noticed a shift in the intelligence minister's expression, as if he had thought of something and was somewhat incredulous.

The Greater Griffin gradually flew away and disappeared from the sky.

"The Greater Griffin has flown far away, do we... still need to walk?" someone asked.

The crowd looked at each other in bewilderment. Due to the earlier commotion, everyone was disheveled, and the minister in charge of the king's purse was even wearing only one shoe.

However, no one was laughing or joking at this moment; everyone was in a sorry state, just as bad as each other.

"Let's go," Demavend II sighed. "If the Greater Griffin turns back, are we just going to run again?"

Then he waved his hand, refusing the servants' help, and walked down into the castle's underground.

The basement of the destination didn't have a name like "Council Room," but the room was actually quite nicely decorated.

Exquisite court paintings, high-backed chairs intricately carved with the legend of Ard's founding, soft, wine-red carpets...

Aside from being somewhat damp and dark in its location, it is even slightly larger than the council chamber.

Smack!

The door to the room was closed.

After the king and his ministers took their seats, they remained silent for a while before beginning to discuss the Vivaldi Bank, though they all seemed somewhat distracted.

until...

Smack!

The door opened.

A young man walked in, whispered a few words to the middle-aged man in charge of intelligence, and then left.

"The unrest in the city has subsided, and apart from a few people being injured at the beginning, the losses are not significant."

"And not a single place was damaged..."

The middle-aged man paused, then continued, "The Greater Griffin... seems to have just been passing by..."

"Just passing by..." The people in the basement all felt it was somewhat absurd.

Regardless of whether the Greater Griffin would actually behave in such a human way, for the past month, this monster has been coming in furiously every morning without fail, more punctual than the ministers when discussing state affairs.

Based on this level of hatred, even if one were human, one would still want to stomp on it and spit on it as a passerby.

"Could it be a different Greater Griffin?" someone asked.

"It's the same one," the middle-aged man said. "The feathers, shape, and size of its wings are all correct..."

Everyone fell silent.

It's not that I have nothing to say, but rather that I have so much to say that I don't know where to begin.

"It's always good to have no losses," the King's Hand tapped the table with his index finger, then looked at Demavend II. "However, Your Majesty still needs to think carefully and make a decision as soon as possible."

What are we thinking about?

Everyone present knew this, but none of them spoke, and none of them even dared to look at Demavend II, who sat at the head of the table.

The bright candlelight flickered and trembled in the darkness, casting overlapping shadows on the wall, blurring into one blob after another.

"I will consider it carefully," Demavend II sighed and waved his hand wearily. "Let's call it a day."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Everyone stood up, bowed, and left.

"Squeak~"

The door opened.

"Kut, stay behind," Demavend II.

The middle-aged man in charge of intelligence paused as he reached the door.

The King's Hand and the Minister of Military Affairs exchanged a subtle glance.

"Bang!"

The door closed.

The candlelight flickered quietly for a while.

Demavend II rose and stood before an oil painting. In the painting, a crowned king stood on horseback, his sword pointing to the sky.

Before the king stood a ferocious-looking, Long-ears elf, and behind him were many shouting human knights.

"Do you also think we should stop the war?" Demavend II asked without turning around.

"Your will is my will, Your Majesty." The middle-aged man touched his chest.

Demavend II nodded, as if noticing the respect shown by the middle-aged man behind him.

His gaze shifted to an inconspicuous corner behind the king, where a man dressed entirely in inconspicuous gray with a blurred face stood.

"The Mondon family has a long history of loyalty, and I trust you." Demavend II paused. "When that monster attacked, what were you thinking? Why were you surprised?"

The middle-aged man looked up in surprise, hesitated for a moment, and said, "A baseless, unfounded conjecture..."

"What conjecture?" Demavend II turned around.

The middle-aged man hesitated for a few seconds. "Master Vulture is holding two black horses..."

"Hmm, and then what?"

"The two leaders of that group of mercenaries, who appeared to be witchers from the School of the Wolf, were also riding black horses, and..." The middle-aged man paused, "... the direction that Master Vulture flew in was exactly where my men were searching for their trail."

"You think the monster's unusual behavior is because of the Witcher?" Demavend II's eyes lit up as he took two steps closer.

"No," the middle-aged man shook his head, "It just so happened that we were discussing those witchers, and it suddenly made the connection..."

"That's it," Demavend II paced excitedly in the basement, "Otherwise, how could that damned beast have passed by without destroying anything or taking anything away?"

"It didn't even kill those two horses, did it? How could such a brutal and stupid monster not kill those two black horses?"

"Could it be..."

Demavend II's eyes grew brighter and brighter:

"Could it be that the Witcher subdued that damned monster!"

"Your Majesty!" the middle-aged man couldn't help but interrupt loudly, "Your Majesty, such a thing has never happened before. No one can subdue a large monster, not even wizards, let alone demon hunters!"

"Just because it hasn't happened before doesn't mean it's impossible. How can those damned wizards compare to the masters of the School of the Wolf?"

"Your Majesty, they're even hiding from the people we sent, deliberately concealing their whereabouts..."

"The School of the Wolf maintains neutrality, but everyone knows how those shameless wizards and nobles in Kedwen treat them. They are hiding their whereabouts only to prevent those damned wizards and nobles from using this as an excuse... Yes... that's right... that must be it!"

"His Majesty!"

"It must be a demon hunter! It must be a demon hunter!" Demavend II roared at the middle-aged man, his eyes bloodshot and his expression as fierce as a wounded beast.

The dim candlelight flickered timidly, and the shadows trembled fearfully.

The middle-aged man fell silent, simply watching Demavend II quietly.

"I'm sorry." Demavend II took a deep breath and patted the middle-aged man on the shoulder.

"I just...I just..." He looked again at the painting of the king standing on horseback, sword pointing to the sky, "Twenty years have passed. My father, my elder brother, my uncles, your father... Kedwen killed our family. I want revenge, revenge... This is the only chance. If you miss it, it will be gone forever, never again, Kut, do you know that?"

Hearing the king's almost delirious voice and feeling the increasing pressure on his shoulder, the middle-aged man sighed and said:

"Your Majesty, I will find the Witcher, I will definitely do it."

Demavend II was silent for a moment before saying, "Is it really impossible?"

The middle-aged man shook his head. "Something that has never happened before, what else could it be but impossible, unless... a miracle occurs..."

"A miracle..." Demavend II sighed, then looked at the painting again, at his invincible ancestor.

"What a miracle..."

——

On the other side.

Ailin knew that the passing of the Greater Griffin would cause riots, but he didn't know that it almost caused Ard and Kedwen.

Even if you knew, there was nothing you could do.

The Greater Griffin is not a commercial airliner like in the previous life, with radar and a pilot.

Ailin wanted to Greater Griffin back to the hotel, but if they flew high in the air, they would be completely lost on the ground.

It must be done at low altitude along the iconic river and city.

Perhaps in the future, once the Greater Griffin has memorized a few locations, it can navigate automatically, but that's definitely not possible now.

"Good Girl, wait for us here." Ailin patted the Greater Griffin's beak as they landed in the woods mentioned in Vilgefortz's provocative letter.

The Greater Griffin gently nudged Ailin, causing him to stumble and almost fall.

Vesemir smiled slightly, and then the two of them led their horses out of the woods.

The reason we didn't ride horses wasn't because the terrain was unsuitable, but because both horses were shaking so badly that we couldn't ride them at all.

The two witchers each used an Axii Sign to calm the horses, allowing them to safely leave the forest.

They then quickly returned to the village where the inn was located.

However, as soon as they entered the village and saw the scattered wooden fence, Ailin and Vesemir both raised their eyebrows.

Something's not right here...