Wolf, Griffin, Cat
"If you ask me, it's all a warlock's conspiracy!" the black-bearded Witcher Master said bitterly.
"Uh-huh!"
White, White his graying hair, coughed softly, reminding him:
"Aristo! It's a wizard's plot!"
The burly man Aristo Aresto glanced cautiously at Vesemir, and seeing that she didn't react, continued:
"Yes, yes, it was all the sorcerer's conspiracy."
"They must be plotting something in the palace, trying to slander the king."
"Ever since White was ousted from the court by the wizards as a monster advisor, the relationship between the next two kings of Kedwen and the school gradually became distant."
White, having been called upon, nodded slightly in agreement and continued the conversation, saying:
"That is indeed possible. Long ago, the Ban Ade wizards showed hostility toward the school."
"Our lads are better and have taken away a lot of their jobs, so the real enemies of the School of the Wolf may only be those male wizards."
"And..."
White, with his graying hair, tilted his White slightly, glanced at the expressionless chief, and said:
"Moreover, prophecies are not necessarily accurate."
"We all know that prophets usually speak in a vague and ambiguous way."
The other Witcher Master nodded in agreement.
The king's dissatisfaction and the envoy's spying were merely speculations and were not brought to the forefront.
Their sense of crisis almost entirely stemmed from the chief's prophetic dream of unknown origin.
The Witcher Master believed the Chief, but not the one who uttered the prophecy.
"Chief, is it possible that it is precisely because we know this prophecy and firmly believe in it that..."
"That's why we completely broke ties with the king and the wizards, and ultimately met our demise."
"If we had adhered to the principle of neutrality, perhaps none of this would have happened."
Vesemir tapped the table, taking it a step further.
If the prophecy hadn't been spoken by the chief, he would have even thought it was a conspiracy against the School of the Wolf.
Let them lose their composure, show hostility, and ultimately offend both the king and the wizard's faction.
"Perhaps the king really just forgot to send the letter in advance."
"This is just a notice for an apprentice competition. The Glutton really enjoy holding these kinds of competitions."
It is logically sound, consistent with the facts, and most importantly, it is easier for those present to accept.
After hearing this, the Witcher Master all breathed a sigh of relief and nodded in agreement.
Even Ailin began to have doubts and uncertainties.
after all,
He has no prophetic abilities.
The Battle of Kaer Morhen was merely a deduction he made based on background stories from games and novels, combined with the sorcerer's suspicious behavior.
Even the prophecies of the ancient children can be altered.
What if this war had never happened, but Ailin's words created a butterfly effect, triggering hostility between several factions?
That...
That's really fucking awful.
"Thump~ thump~ thump~"
The chief tapped the black wooden table with his index finger, interrupting the commotion.
"That concludes today's meeting."
"Regardless of whether the Precognitive Dream is accurate or not, and whether there is any malicious guidance involved."
"At least the king is indeed dissatisfied with us because of the elves, and this goes against the school's principles and is not negotiable."
"So..."
After a pause, he leaned forward, his silver vertical pupils contracted, and a strong aura instantly pressed down on everyone.
"Be on your guard, Witcher."
"We are walking on a cliff."
The Witcher Master, their expressions solemn, spoke in firm and resolute voices:
"Yes, Chief!"
The chief nodded, then looked at Ailin and said:
"Ailin, inform Huus, Bont, and Fred, and ask them if they would like to participate in the dueling tournament between the two schools."
"If they wish, each will receive 100 Oren, plus the school's standard silver sword and Cotton Armor."
"The school of thought will receive an even more generous reward after winning the competition."
Ailin nodded, then hesitated for a moment before saying:
"Can I participate in this competition?"
The chief paused for a moment, then fell silent.
The Witcher Master, who had already risen from their seats, exchanged bewildered glances.
Ailin's achievements often make people forget his age.
Even though they were also Witcher Master and geniuses of the School of the Wolf, they knew they couldn't compare to Ailin in terms of talent.
"Would you like to participate?" the Sorceress asked as she approached.
Ailin nodded.
"Then let's participate. Anyway, the letters sent to other schools of thought and nobles haven't been sent out yet."
Sorceress spoke, she turned her head to look at the chief.
For Ailin, the title of Witcher Master only had some use within the school.
Outside of Kaer Morhen, who would entrust a thirteen or fourteen-year-old child with a large commission befitting Witcher Master?
On the contrary, it will draw the attention of hidden enemies to the genius of the School of the Wolf.
After a moment's thought, the chief agreed.
Upon seeing this, the Witcher Master all wore strange smiles.
Dante put his arm around Vesemir's shoulder and said with a smile:
"Haha, Vesemir, double the gift money is in hand."
"It seems we can change the drinks at next year's banquet to East of the East."
"It's not that exaggerated, but at least we can get Toussaint's Duke's wine," White, who was in charge of finance, corrected with a smile.
Bright sunlight streamed in through the window, and the dust motes in the air danced with the sound of hearty laughter.
Joyful and cheerful.
It seems that everyone has put the danger of the school's demise behind them.
It was nearing dusk.
After the meeting, the Witcher Master exchanged a few words and then left one after another.
Ailin and the Sorceress agreed to use the Alchemy Room after dinner, and then they left the meeting room.
A moment later.
The hustle and bustle faded away, and the space surrounded by cold stone walls fell silent.
"Do you believe the prophecy Ailin made before?" the chief asked, breaking the silence.
"He had no reason to lie, did he?"
The Sorceress had somehow acquired a cup of wine in her hand. After taking a small sip, she continued:
"However, what those witchers said is also true."
"The Glutton may only be slightly dissatisfied right now, and it hasn't escalated to the point of no return."
"If you react strongly and are hostile, it might cause him to act rashly."
The chief nodded, sighed, tapped the table lightly with his index finger, and lowered his head to think.
The setting sun cast its golden-red light on his profile, casting a deep shadow on the other side of his face, where his brows were furrowed.
The Sorceress gave him a long look, then, after a rare moment of careful consideration, asked in her tone:
"Soyer, are you really not going to consider Haxor's proposal?"
"After all..."
"You have no connection with the elves. No matter how far back you go, it was a sorcerer like Alzure who created you."
The chief looked up, gently shook his head, and said firmly:
"Vesemir!"
"You know that's impossible."
"Wolves may not be as noble as griffins, but they will never be reduced to domesticated cats."
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