How to Deal with Ban Ard?

Ianna's sudden outburst startled everyone present, and their expressions turned somewhat strange.

As the High Priest of the Temple of Melitele, Ianna's reaction seemed a bit excessive.

"I apologize, it was my rudeness." The Old Duke realized his mistake, murmured a few words, and bowed slightly apologetically to Ailin, diverting everyone's attention.

"It's alright." Ailin waved his hand. Although it was somewhat offensive, the Old Duke's words were also a form of praise.

The Old Duke nodded, looked up at the sky, then turned to Arthur and said, "It's getting late, let's go back."

Arthur nodded and helped the Old Duke into the carriage.

The others stood at the door, ready to see them off.

Strangely, after Arthur helped the Old Duke into the carriage, he stayed inside for a while before coming out, as if he was being given some instructions.

"Bang!"

The carriage door was gently closed.

After getting out of the car, Arthur walked up to Ailin and asked, "Ailin, you didn't enter through the city gates of Arland today, did you?"

Ailin's heart tightened immediately, and she subconsciously looked at Ianna, thinking that news of her arrival had been leaked.

"It's only been a month, but there are hardly any people in all of Arland who don't know our hero. If you come in through the city gate, someone will definitely announce your arrival before you come to the temple."

Arthur noticed his odd behavior, smiled gently, and explained.

Ailin breathed a sigh of relief.

But before he could say anything, Arthur suddenly glanced at Ianna and Nannick, and said meaningfully:

"The wizards' portals are convenient, but they miss out on a lot of beautiful scenery."

"Lord Mason tells you not to rush to eliminate those monsters tomorrow, but to take your time exploring Arland."

"Hmm?" Ailin tilted her head in confusion.

"You'll find out tomorrow." Arthur laughed heartily a few times, offering no further explanation.

He bowed to the two ladies, nodded to Ailin, then boarded the carriage, cracked his whip, and rode away.

Rolling wheels crushed the fallen petals on the ground.

"What... do the Old Duke and Arthur mean?"

Ailin watched the black carriage gradually disappear into the distance, then turned back to look at Ianna and Nannick with a puzzled expression.

"It's not a bad thing. You'll see for yourself tomorrow," Nannick said with a gentle smile.

"I won't tell you. Arthur just gave us a look," Ianna chuckled teasingly, without offering any explanation for Ailin's question. "Let Lyra go with you. She knows all about the changes in Arland."

"A bunch of riddle-makers!" Ailin muttered to himself, genuinely curious about Arland had been away for a month.

"Let's go," Ianna patted Ailin on the shoulder and followed behind Nannick with the lantern. "Lyra should have freed those seven unfortunate witchers from the curse."

"Pretty much." Ailin nodded, still following behind them. "Vesemir should be teaching them a lesson right now; he's been holding back for days."

"Vesemir went to unnecessary trouble. There aren't many Witchers who have been turned into jade statues; they're as rare as your Witcher Master. They must have remembered it well." Ianna chuckled twice, then suddenly asked, "By the way, I still don't know how you all got into this state?"

"Did we stumble into some ancient elven ruins and fall into a trap?"

Ailin paused for a moment before continuing on his way.

Ianna noticed this and asked in confusion, "What's wrong? Did I tell you something? Although exploring ruins is also tomb raiding, which is unethical."

"But at this point, it's not really a problem. Whether they're from Ban Ade or Aretuza, they're all proud of it..."

"At least I won't kick you out of the temple because of this."

Ailin shook his head, then thought for a moment and decided not to hide anything.

"It's a male witch. We received a distress call from a friend and went to rescue him. On our way, we were targeted by a male witch in Ban Ade."

"Ernie ... those seven young demon hunters... while Vesemir and I were away on other business, they came knocking on our door and were hit by the Shapeshifting Sealing Artifact ..."

Ianna's expression changed, she stopped abruptly, and reached out to pinch his right hand.

Although it was sudden, it wasn't fast, and Ailin could have easily dodged it, but he didn't. Instead, he said softly:

"Neither Vesemir nor I were seriously injured, and everything has been resolved."

Ianna remained unmoved. A gentle, warm current, like that of a hot spring, seeped into Ailin's right hand and traveled throughout his body. Only after finding that there was no problem did she release her grip.

"We can't let our guard down," Ianna breathed a sigh of relief, then chided, "For a fleeting power, they resort to poisoning, abortion, curses, spreading rumors..."

"I've seen these kinds of things many times."

"Most of the male witches these days are extreme and insidious, making the countries of the Northern Continent a chaotic mess..."

The bluntness of the words left Ailin speechless with surprise. "Mother Ianna, you are the High Priest of the Temple of Melitele. Aren't you afraid of causing trouble if people find out about such things?"

"Will you tell anyone?" Ianna asked.

"No... of course not..." Ailin quickly replied.

"That's settled then," Ianna rolled her eyes, withdrew her right hand and continued walking forward. "Besides, I'm just a dying old woman. What can those cowardly sewer rats do to me?"

"High Priest!" Even Nannick couldn't stand it anymore, not because of the words that belittled the male wizard. "You have a long life ahead of you, how can you talk nonsense like that!"

Nannick stared at Ianna with his brown eyes.

Ianna, however, seemed completely unconcerned. After chuckling twice, she narrowed her eyes and teased, "..."

"What? You really don't want the position of High Priest?"

"If you don't want it, then I'll just give it to Lyra..."

"High Priest!" Nannick's eyebrows shot up, and he rebuked in a low voice, "How could you say such a thing?"

"Serving the Goddess Meritellie, Mortal World rights are meaningless; only the golden wheat fields where maidens yield their bounty are their final resting place..."

"Okay, okay..." Ianna seemed unable to resist and surrendered, "You're just too serious."

"You have been too reckless and arrogant."

Nannick retorted again before picking up his lantern and continuing on his way.

It seems that this somewhat outrageous topic has been discussed many times before.

However, Ailin pretended not to Long-ears and silently followed behind.

Until Ianna turned around again and looked at him seriously:

"Are you really not going to reconsider moving to Arland?"

Ailin paused for a moment, then said, "This is something only the Chief can decide..."

"Even Blue Death, the master of the School of the Wolf Witcher Master, couldn't do it six months ago?" Ianna chuckled.

Ailin smiled helplessly and shook his head in denial.

"What if you're alone?" Ianna asked. "Mason certainly wouldn't mind having another monster advisor in his court; the whole of Arland would welcome you..."

Ailin paused, then shook his head vigorously. "I am a Witcher, a Witcher of the School of the Wolf."

"Okay." Ianna showed no displeasure at being rejected again; instead, her smile of relief deepened.

Even so, the group fell silent for a moment.

The only sounds in the air were the footsteps of boots on the stone slabs and the chirping of insects.

"Oh, right, I haven't thanked you for speaking up for me in front of the Old Duke," Ailin suddenly said.

If it weren't for Ianna's words, the Old Duke wouldn't have gone to such lengths.

Moreover, judging from the tone of the Old Duke and Arthur, quite a few people—including the Old Duke's heir—have been complaining this past month about him bestowing a knighthood upon a witcher.

Without Ianna's words, the Old Duke and Arthur's favorability might not have soared as it is now; in fact, it might have decreased because of Ailin's bluntness.

"But many people in the temple already know about our arrival," Ailin hesitated for a few seconds as Ianna turned back with a smile. "Won't it cause problems if the Old Duke finds out the truth about this deception?"

"What I mean is, even if we're exposed, we witchers can just walk away, but the temple has always been rooted in Elran..."

"Aren't you going to clean up those ghouls tomorrow?" Ianna interrupted him with a laugh.

"Of course I'll go."

"Can't you resolve the troubles in Arland as you promised?"

"Definitely. Two Witcher Master and seven Witchers are more than enough to deal with some ghouls."

"That's enough, Ailin." Ianna nodded slightly. "As for whether this will affect the temple..."

"Ailin, you may not know this, but the Temple of Melitele was not established in connection with Arland."

"On the contrary," Nannick said with a slight smile as he turned back, his eyes filled with pride and self-satisfaction, "Arland did not begin to be built until thirteen years after the temple was established."

"Dismode (the first king of Temeria) established his Kingdom of Temeria, incorporating Arland into it, fifty years after the temple was built..."

"Ailin, it's not that Meritellie needs Arland, but that Arland needs Meritellie."

The two priestesses of the Temple of Melitele spoke in a flat, matter-of-fact manner, without any persuasive tone.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, Ailin realized something.

It has always been the Old Duke who personally came to "invite" High Priest Ianna.

Whether it's setting up an exorcism ritual, or pressing and urging the School of the Wolf to relocate, as is the case today...

Although he has already placed the Meritellie Cult in a very high position in the world, it seems that it is not high enough.

However, Ianna and everyone in the temple were very kind to him, while the Old Duke always had a stern face and a serious expression.

He then had the misconception that the High Priest was of equal or even slightly weaker status than the Duke of Arland.

In fact, the status of the Temple of Melitele has always been very high, not only higher than that of Duke Mason of Arland, but even much higher than that of the King of Temeria.

At least...

This is how it is now.

Cross the beautifully decorated wooden bridge over the waterfall and wait for the sound of the water to gradually subside.

Ianna suddenly added, "Since you're unwilling to move to Arland, let's think of a way..."

"What method?" Ailin was taken aback.

"How can the hero who saved Arland be framed by a rat in the gutter without any consequence, is that right, Nannick?"

"Of course." Nannick said, holding the lamp, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, like a judge acting on behalf of the gods. "The lady said that good deeds will be rewarded and evil deeds will be punished."

"Mother Ianna ... Nannick ..." Ailin's heart warmed instantly.

Nannick smiled.

"I told you, we are...one of us!" Ianna smiled kindly, ruffled Ailin's hair, and hugged him gently, like a mother bird protecting her chicks under her wings.

She looked up, frowned, and gazed northward into the deepest darkness.

"Ban Ade... Ban Ade..."

"Let me think of a way to avenge you..."

The next morning.

The underground of the royal city of Vengerberg.

Wearing a crown, Demavend II stood before the portrait of the founder of Ard, his gaze fixed on the figure on horseback, as if admiring the painter's skill.

Although there were candles in the basement, only a few were lit.

The dim lighting and shadows made the portrait a blurry mess, almost impossible to see clearly.

"Not here yet?" Demavi asked, his right hand resting on the high-backed chair, without turning around.

"Your Majesty, the Greater Griffin has not yet attacked." A servant went out to inquire and quickly returned to report respectfully.

"Not here yet..." Demavend II tapped his index finger restlessly.

He couldn't tell whether he hoped the Greater Griffin wouldn't come, so he could dream a little longer, or he hoped it would come soon and wake him from his dream of revival.

Nobles, bankers, merchants, and even ordinary citizens and farmers, and even himself, all seemed to have reached a critical point.

It could explode at any moment, like the dwarves' gunpowder.

After an unknown amount of time, there was still no news from outside.

Demavend II turned around irritably, about to urge his attendants to go out and inquire about the news again.

"Ta-da~"

Suddenly, hurried footsteps came from outside the door, making his heart sink.

At that moment, his mind went blank, he felt intensely dizzy, and the feeling of weightlessness made him feel as if he had fallen into an abyss.

What was bound to happen has happened.

Fate never seemed to favor him. No matter how frugal he was, how diligent he was, how respectful he was to his subordinates, or how much he avoided all unfavorable legends and proverbs, he could never escape the nightmare of being sucked dry and suppressed.

Fate seemed to be mocking him.

So what if Kedwen suddenly lost a cruel and tyrannical king?

What if we replace it with a wet-behind child?

The surprises of the past few months felt like a beautiful dream come true.

But fate is fate, and fate cannot be defied.

"Your Majesty... Your Majesty... Are you alright...?"

He was suddenly jolted awake by the urgent shouts that came from his ear.

Smack

He seemed to hear the soft sound of bubbles being popped.

"What's wrong?" Demavend II looked up and was stunned to see that it was his intelligence minister, Kut.

The previous meetings were all postponed to the afternoon due to the monster attack.

"What? You're the one who needs to report the attack of the Greater Griffin?" Demavend II gave a wry smile, his right hand trembling as he reached for the wine glass on the table to take a big gulp. "Or are you the one who needs to persuade me to stay?"

"The Greater Griffin didn't come, Your Majesty!" Kurt said rapidly. "Your guess yesterday might be true!"

"Besides..."

Kurt paused:

"Ban Ade's sorcerers have infiltrated!"