"Cat of Iello, what are you doing at Kaer Morhen? I don't recall inviting you."
The witchers of the School of the Wolf rose together.
Vesemir stared intently at the man who had emerged from the shadows.
Geralt grabbed the silver candlestick on the table.
Eskel and Lambert moved to shield Lynn behind them.
"Worthy relatives of wolves, with hearing to match." The man gave a mocking smile. "Brehen, witcher of the School of the Cat, offers his greetings."
Vesemir said coldly, "Spare us your hollow greetings. Witchers of the School of the Cat aren't welcome at Kaer Morhen."
"Watch your tone, old man. I'll give you one more chance to rephrase that. Don't forget, I have a sword in my hand, and you don't."
Brehen licked the gleaming blade he held.
Yet Vesemir remained unmoved by his threat.
"I know you cats have quick reflexes, but don't you forget, Cat of Iello, we wolves do more than swing swords. We also command Signs, something your school lacks."
"However fast you are, you still have to reach us, and that gives us enough time to cast our Signs."
"Are you sure that leather armor of yours can stop four Igni Signs?"
Each witcher school's mutations were different.
The School of the Wolf's mutations favored balanced development.
The School of the Griffin's mutations enhanced the power of Signs.
As for the School of the Cat...
Since their founder had very likely been one of the Aen Seidhe-the people humans called elves-their fighting style also came from the elves.
Witchers of the School of the Cat often possessed incredible speed.
For example, an ordinary soldier might only be able to attack once in a single round.
But a witcher of the School of the Cat could attack twice, or even more.
Such astonishing speed naturally gave them an advantage against humans.
However, everything had two sides.
When witchers of the School of the Cat gained their incredible speed, the gods also closed a window on them.
And that "window" was their ability to use Signs, which was the worst of all the witcher schools.
Many witchers of the School of the Cat could not even cast Signs at all.
Vesemir's threat worked.
Brehen's expression darkened.
"You damned hypocrites. You can sit at the same table as the Butcher of Blaviken, so why can't you broaden your minds a little and accept another executioner?"
Vesemir ordered him out. "Because we aren't your kind. Leave now, Cat of Iello. If you won't leave with dignity, we'll help you do it."
Brehen's eyes shifted as he twisted the argument. "Witchers don't fight witchers. That's the witchers' code. Do you intend to break it, old man?"
Yet Vesemir remained unmoved.
"If anyone broke the code, your school did it first. Besides, I don't mind making an exception just for you. If you're thinking of spitting, I suggest you hold it in, or I'll wipe my floor with your face."
Brehen forcibly held back the spit in his mouth and swallowed it down his throat again.
After the two sides faced off for a while, he slowly retreated into the shadows, as though he had finally given up.
Some time later, silence returned.
Only the crackling of the fire remained.
"He's gone." Vesemir breathed a sigh of relief. "Geralt, Eskel, Lambert, take Lynn upstairs to rest. It's getting late."
Geralt remained standing. "I'm staying here with you, Vesemir. Before you argue, you're getting old. You need someone watching your back."
Vesemir thought for a moment and did not refuse.
"That works too. Eskel, Lambert, get some proper rest tonight. Tomorrow, you two will be responsible for making sure our 'guest' leaves the Blue Mountains."
"Lynn, my boy, don't let what happened tonight trouble you. Forget about it."
Vesemir had addressed the first part to Eskel and Lambert.
The latter part was for Lynn.
Lynn nodded.
He sensibly said nothing and asked nothing.
Together with Eskel and Lambert, he left the hall.
Accompanied by Eskel and Lambert, Lynn returned to his room upstairs.
"We sleep right next door. If you're scared or can't sleep, you can come to us," Eskel said considerately.
"Thank you, Eskel. You too, Lambert."
Watching Lynn head toward his room, Lambert could not help speaking.
"Kid, don't you want to ask anything?"
"No need. Good night."
The rooms at Kaer Morhen were not particularly soundproof.
Even with the door shut, he could still hear voices outside filtering through the cracks and the thin door.
"What an annoying brat."
"You're talking about yourself, aren't you, Lambert?"
Lynn took off his clothes and lay down on the bed.
He gazed at the ceiling.
He was not deliberately acting mature. He really had nothing to ask.
Because he knew far more than Eskel and Lambert did.
There was a reason Vesemir did not welcome the School of the Cat-one could even say he loathed them.
Long, long ago, so long ago that Geralt had still been an apprentice, the School of the Cat had betrayed the School of the Wolf.
The king of Kaedwen at the time had been swayed by sorcerers into believing that witchers would undermine his rule.
Under the pretext of holding a witcher tournament, he had lured the School of the Wolf out and bribed the School of the Cat to attack them.
In that bloody massacre, Geralt and Vesemir had been the only witchers of the School of the Wolf to escape.
Geralt, in particular, had only survived thanks to a druid's help.
It was from that time onward that Vesemir had developed a deep aversion to, and wariness of, the School of the Cat.
Every witcher school had split off from the Order of Witchers, but each had inherited different knowledge, which also meant their formulas for the Potion of the Grasses differed.
The School of the Cat's Potion of the Grasses was even more unusual, because when their pioneers left the Order, they had tried to secretly take the Potion of the Grasses formula with them. Unfortunately, witchers from the Order had pursued them and reclaimed it.
They had been forced to seek a new path to mutation. They had eventually succeeded, but the new Potion of the Grasses formula also had severe side effects.
The School of the Cat's Potion of the Grasses did not suppress witchers' emotions. Instead, it amplified them, pushing them toward extremism, paranoia, and obsession.
That was why most witchers of the School of the Cat were lunatics, psychopaths, and sadists.
Not only did they frequently accept assassination contracts, but their moral boundaries were also far too flexible.
As for Brehen, he was scum among scum.
Geralt's title, the "Butcher of Blaviken," had come from ignorant fools who had no idea how well he had protected them.
But Brehen's title, the "Cat of Iello," and the Iello Massacre he had caused were thoroughly deserved.
With Geralt and Vesemir keeping watch, Lynn slept soundly that night.
The next day, he woke early.
Since coming to this world, he had broken his old habit of lingering in bed and got up as soon as he woke.
He went downstairs to the hall and saw Geralt and Vesemir sitting on the floor, meditating.
In dangerous, complicated surroundings, witchers could replace sleep with meditation.
A witcher's meditation could likewise restore energy and relieve fatigue.
They also remained aware of their surroundings while meditating, allowing them to emerge from the meditative state at any moment if anything stirred.
So when they heard Lynn's footsteps, Geralt and Vesemir both opened their eyes.
Lynn exchanged good mornings with them, then volunteered to make breakfast.
Before long.
Eskel and Lambert came downstairs too.
After they ate the breakfast Lynn had prepared, Eskel took his sword and called to Lambert.
"Come on, Lambert. Let's see our 'friend' from the School of the Cat off. We wouldn't want him getting lost in the snow-covered Blue Mountains."
For once, Lambert had nothing to add.
After the two left, Lynn and the other two sat at the long table in the hall, enjoying breakfast.
"Vesemir, what should Lynn learn today?" Geralt suddenly asked as he speared a piece of meat with his fork.
Feeling a little thirsty, Vesemir picked up his beer and took a swig.
"He's making excellent progress with his sword lessons, so I plan to start teaching him Signs today. They are an important part of being a witcher, after all."
Geralt volunteered. "Then go get some rest after breakfast. I'll teach him."
Vesemir was exasperated.
"Please, I'm not that old yet. Still, your suggestion isn't bad. All right, I'll leave it to you."