Ailin is a Good Child

The moment the ice-cold elixir slid down his esophagus, Ailin was surprised to find the abnormality in his muscles had significantly lessened.

A warmer current than the last time he used it quickly spread from his stomach throughout his entire body.

In a daze, Ailin felt as if he were soaking in a lukewarm hot spring, so comfortable he almost let out a sound.

After the warm current disappeared from his body, the pain and itching in his muscles also vanished directly.

The Heart Elixir could even promote the absorption of "lunch"!

Ailin, who had been troubled by the strange mushroom soup, almost cried out in surprise.

For the past ten days, the apprentices' daily schedule was classes in the morning, and absorbing potions in the afternoon and evening.

If he had enough elixir, Ailin could free up at least two-thirds of his time.

He opened his character panel.

[Attributes: Strength 5.5 (+0.2), Agility 5.6 (+0.2), Constitution 6.2 (+0.6), Perception 7.9 (+0.7), Mysticism 3.5 (+0.2]

His total attributes had also increased by 1.9.

This was almost double the value Ailin had estimated.

"I'm suddenly starting to like Drowners," Ailin thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly calmed his excited mood.

After his attributes suddenly increased, the Witcher's senses became exceptionally sharp.

This allowed the gradually calming Ailin to pick up on many details within the dormitory.

Sweat induced by pain, continuous pained gasps, low growls suppressed deep in the throat...

The creaking of the wooden bed frame shattered against the cold, hard walls.

Besides him, everyone else in the dormitory was suffering.

Thinking that the other apprentices were all children under 13, the joy of his gains instantly diminished significantly.

A thought suddenly appeared in his mind.

Should he share the elixir with them?

Ailin sighed and silently apologized in his heart.

"When poor, look after oneself; when prosperous, help the world."

He wasn't qualified to help the world yet.

Not at least for now.

It was already late autumn.

The Witchers who had been traveling returned one after another. They had to get back to Kaer Morhen before the heavy snow blocked the mountain passes for the winter.

From the moment the first Witcher returned to Kaer Morhen, the two-story high fireplaces in the castle hall would be lit with bonfires.

The lively feasts would continue non-stop, from morning till night.

And would continue until the spring equinox, when the ice and snow melted.

After bidding farewell to the apprentices, Vesemir came to the castle hall.

As soon as he entered, the warmth mixed with the clamor of voices hit him.

More than twenty Witchers sat around the dining table, boasting to each other about their experiences over the past year.

Finding a seat at random, Vesemir took the beer mug handed to him by a companion and took a hearty gulp.

"Haa~"

He let out a sigh of enjoyment.

Vesemir turned sideways to look at the companion who handed him the drink and casually started a conversation:

"Dante, I heard our king declared war on the long-ears again."

Dante had just returned to Kaer Morhen today. Witchers on their journeys would always deliberately gather some intelligence.

"Declared war? It's just raiding at most," Witcher Dante shook his head, took a bite of bread, and continued, "Besides, your news is outdated. That war, which involved less than a hundred people, ended two months ago."

"I was teaching apprentices this year and didn't leave Kaer Morhen. It was Leto who told me about the declaration of war."

Vesemir shrugged and then asked, "Tell me in detail what you know?"

"What?" Dante asked curiously, "Do you have an old flame among the long-ears?"

Vesemir's face darkened: "Just tell me what you know! Don't bring up other things."

Not having gleaned any gossip, Dante clicked his tongue regretfully:

"War, war, which year doesn't have war?"

"The nobles blow their horns, and the peasants charge forward with sticks."

"The melee is over, and only the king and the ghouls can feast."

"No, no, no. The ghouls might fill their bellies, but what about the Glutton?" Leto walked over, holding his flask.

"Glutton" was the common nickname for King Haxor of Cidaris.

"Perhaps."

Dante refilled his goblet and said thoughtfully, "Haxor's actions are strange. He claims to be declaring war on the long-ears, but his excuse is that elves stole his jewels."

"An excuse?" Vesemir asked curiously, "You don't think it's true?"

Dante nodded and continued, "Whoever stole the jewels, they could have just issued a warrant."

"To declare war on an entire race using that as a reason, doesn't that strike you as absurd?"

"Also, on the way back to Kaer Morhen, I encountered the King's personal guard. They seemed to be looking for someone."

Leto probed, "Are you sure it was Haxor's personal guard? Don't they usually stay within the royal court?"

"Black unicorn cloaks on a yellow background. I wouldn't mistake it," Dante continued. "And, I saw three sorcerers among them."

Upon hearing this, Vesemir and Leto exchanged glances.

Leto said, "That is indeed strange. But since they were looking for someone, didn't they ask for your help?"

For Witchers, the most crucial part of hunting monsters was tracking them down based on scarce and incomplete clues.

Footprints, bloodstains, scents – as long as there were clues, they couldn't escape a Witcher's keen senses.

Over time, every Witcher became a natural detective.

"Not only did they not ask, they seemed to be deliberately avoiding me," Dante said, scratching his head with some annoyance. "I just feel like something is off here, but I can't put my finger on it."

Seeing Dante's mood dampen because of his casual remark, Vesemir said with some guilt, "If you can't figure it out, don't worry about it."

"Ultimately, this is a conflict between the elves and the King of Cidaris. It has nothing to do with our School of the Wolf."

"We maintain neutrality."

Dante nodded at this and took a sip of his wine.

However, his furrowed brow made it easy to see that he hadn't let the matter go.

Seeing the atmosphere becoming a bit stiff, Leto raised his goblet and said, "Let's not talk about politics during meals."

"Let's switch to a more interesting topic."

Vesemir agreed with a nod, then noticed Leto's playful smile.

Vesemir's heart skipped a beat; he sensed that things were not simple.

"What interesting thing?" Dante asked curiously.

"Vesemir lost his Elsha to an apprentice." Even with Vesemir's masterly skills, he still couldn't shut Leto up.

Dante asked hesitantly, "El...sha? That silver sword worth over ten thousand Oren?"

"17,325 Oren. Yes, the very sword you're thinking of."

"What! Vesemir, is that true?"

Dante shouted out in surprise.

His loud voice was particularly noticeable even in the noisy hall.

At the dining table, the attention of the other Witchers was drawn to them.

At this moment, Vesemir's face was as black as charcoal in a fireplace.

As if anticipating something, Vesemir didn't reply. Instead, he raised his goblet, covering his eyes.

"Hahaha, it's absolutely true. Let me tell you..." After laughing heartily, Leto began to narrate what had happened that morning.

Several Witchers who had witnessed it firsthand chimed in with laughter, filling in any gaps.

As the story unfolded with its ups and downs, Witchers sitting further away pricked up their ears and slowly stopped their conversations.

Before long, only Leto's voice could be heard in the hall.

"...That's roughly how it happened."

Leto finished his embellished story and took a sip of beer to wet his throat.

The silence at the dining table lasted only a few seconds before erupting like boiling water.

Among the Witchers, some marveled at the apprentice's skill, some confirmed the price of the silver sword, and some good-naturedly teased Vesemir...

Of course, there were also those interested in the Witcher's Eye.

It was a shame none of the Witchers at the table enjoyed browsing the library, so naturally, no one could answer.

"I don't know what the Witcher's Eye is, but judging by the situation, you didn't lose unfairly," Dante said, patting Vesemir on the shoulder by way of comfort.

Vesemir sighed, as if a thought had occurred to him, and drained his mug of beer in one gulp.

After wiping the foam from his beard with the back of his hand, Vesemir pondered for a moment before nodding in agreement:

"Skilled swordsman, sharp mind, and able to remain calm and rational when frustrated."

"Ailin is a good kid!"

"I really didn't lose unfairly."

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