His Legend Still Lives in the Jianghu

Ban Ard was a city built around a mage academy, its commodity economy sustained by mages and mage apprentices as its core competitive strength.

Mages supplied magical items for merchants to sell, while merchants provided the materials mages needed. Together with Gors Velen and Novigrad, it was one of the three major distribution hubs for magical goods.

Compared to Ard Carraigh, its walls were not especially lofty. But it did not need towering walls—mages were the guardians of this city.

It was nearly noon when they paid to enter the city. The youth took out a pair of sunglasses he had bought at the Ard Carraigh market and gave them to Lambert to wear, then wrapped the silver sword in cloth and placed it on the horse.

Thus, the two travel-worn wanderers drew no strange looks or harassment along the way, and smoothly booked rooms at the Limping Hank Tavern.

What a dreadful era. There were cripples everywhere.

The two ordered food and devoured it at the table in their room, putting away two herb-roasted chickens, a huge bowl of mashed potatoes, a bottle of wine, and a jug of milk.

Full and satisfied, Lambert patted his stomach. "Straight to the mage academy?"

Victor wrung out two towels, flung one onto the witcher's face, and used the other to wipe his own face clean.

"Let's go!" They would soon find out whether his dream could come true.

They did not ride their horses, choosing to walk instead. As they passed through streets and alleys, they could vaguely hear hawkers calling out all manner of wares. Lambert was naturally used to it, but Victor listened with great interest.

"Come take a look! Incredible magical locks—locks that can only be opened with a secret password!"

"Honored lady, come and have a look at my wares!"

"Sir, have you heard of the Eternal Fire?"

"Come on, everyone, come on! There are only three magical boxes that play music on their own!"

"Stop thinking about it and buy it! You won't find anything cheaper north of the Pontar River!"

Some sales pitches truly could transcend time and space.

Ban Ard Academy stood in the city center. Though it was called a mage academy, it was actually more of a comprehensive institution, offering educational resources in subjects such as clerical work, accounting, law, and engineering.

Its outer grounds were surrounded by red brick walls, while inside stood multiple Gothic buildings. Looking in from the entrance, its grandeur was no less impressive than the Kaedwen palace complex visible from afar in Ard Carraigh.

"I'll see you this far. Go in yourself. Mages and witchers can't stand each other, so I won't be going in." Lambert stopped before the academy gates. The magical array at the entrance made the Wolf School medallion tremble without pause.

Victor paused, about to speak, but was unexpectedly interrupted.

"By magic! Look what I've found—a witcher!?" The speaker wore a purple velvet doublet beneath a short jacket trimmed with sable fur. Sitting astride his horse, he stared at the Wolf School medallion vibrating on Lambert's chest.

He casually glanced at Victor. "And his apprentice."

Lambert put on his standard sour face and gave no response whatsoever.

Then, unexpectedly, ignoring the disgust nearly spilling from Lambert's face, the mage dismounted slowly and with great dignity before introducing himself. "Greetings, gentlemen. I am Master Doregarray—a mage."

Since the man had introduced himself so forthrightly, failing to respond would have been highly impolite. And in a place like Ban Ard, being rude to a mage would inevitably come at a cost.

So the witcher shrugged. "Master Lambert, witcher."

Victor was somewhat speechless, but he followed the format anyway. "Master Victor, alchemist."

Doregarray clearly appreciated this mild yet restrained sarcasm. He let out a laugh and even gave Victor a slight nod in apology for mistaking his identity.

He said, "Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, was my friend. May he rest in peace."

"May he rest in peace," Lambert and Victor said together.

The mage continued, "I owed him a favor.

"So, Lambert of the School of the Wolf, and... an alchemist. What brings the two of you to Ban Ard? I believe I may be able to help." The mage tried hard to sound friendly, but his slightly raised chin and proud tone showed that he was not particularly skilled at it.

Lambert looked at Victor, and after exchanging a glance, said, "I came with Victor. He hopes to become a mage." After thinking for a moment, he added, "He was also quite familiar with the White Wolf."

Hearing that answer, the archmage revealed a strange smile. "Is that so? You wish to become a mage. Very well, gentlemen, follow me!"

Rather than mounting his horse, he led it through the academy gates and walked straight down the road toward the tallest mage tower at the center of the grounds.

At first, the two travelers noticed nothing unusual as they followed behind him. But as he advanced, the students they passed naturally stepped aside to clear a path and bowed in greeting. Even a monkey would have known something was off.

"May I ask what position you hold at the academy?" Victor stepped closer and asked respectfully, quietly switching to a more formal address.

The archmage's smile grew even more pronounced. "Archmage Doregarray—the dean of Ban Ard Academy. I took office after the Thanedd Island coup. It has been nearly two years now. You didn't even know that?"

This was truly awkward... but Victor genuinely had not known. He had never expected to run into such an important figure. He had only planned to take the entrance test and see what happened; if he truly had the talent and enrolled, he would naturally learn what he needed to know.

Yet who could have expected the witcher elder's legacy to run so deep that it could make the dean of a mage academy dismount and personally lead someone through the gates?

Perhaps understanding the youth's embarrassment, the mage said no more. He led them to the mage tower, waved a hand to open its doors, and the three entered.

"Mage, wizard, sorcerer—different terms, but they all refer to the same kind of person: spellcasters who command the power of Chaos.

"Air, fire, earth, water—which elemental power can you sense? Or are you a Source yourself? Have you ever shown signs of magical frenzy?"

Doregarray had the two sit in the drawing room. After asking their preferences, he conjured mandrake vodka for Lambert and milk for Victor, assuming the posture of a serious conversation before asking the question that left Victor awkwardly speechless.

The youth could only keep a blank face. "Sorry, I haven't sensed anything, and I've never experienced magical frenzy. I simply refuse to believe I have no talent, so I came to verify it."

Even the archmage was rendered somewhat speechless by that answer.

After a moment of silence, he waved open a cabinet, and several instruments floated over. "Then let's put it to the test!"

Some time later...

"I'm sorry, but unfortunately, you do not have the aptitude to become a mage." The impeccably dressed archmage put on a professional mask of regret, his two little mustache tips twitching as though he were genuinely disappointed.

In truth, the archmage was indeed somewhat disappointed and dissatisfied. He had thought he could repay Geralt for his help during the Thanedd Island coup, only to find that these two had come to play a joke on him...

No, they had only wanted to test it out in the first place. It was his own mistaken expectations that had left him feeling let down.

Thinking that, the dean immediately felt much calmer. "Although you cannot become a mage, Ban Ard's humanities programs are also among the finest educational offerings on the Continent. If you wish to become a clerk or a lawyer, I can write you a letter of recommendation for admission."

With the mage's gentle words, Victor's dream came to an end... without even the slightest chance of reversal.

"I hope you understand that mage academies never turn away talented children. At the same time, that means we cannot accept children without talent.

Victor, there is absolutely no sign of magic stirring within you. You are nothing more than an utterly ordinary, normal person."