After Tissaia de Vries left with her large entourage, the reception hall fell into silence.
Exhaustion surged in like a tidal wave.
It shouldn't have been this way.
After Allen's physique reached 90 points, staying awake for a full day—or even a full week—shouldn't have affected his condition.
But last night, with Bond and Hughes' fates still uncertain, followed by slaying the leshen, infiltrating Drakenborg, accounting for the response from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization and Redania, and persuading Tissaia de Vries...
Too much had happened in just one night.
It wasn't physical fatigue—it was mental exhaustion.
Allen often found himself thinking: with how much effort he spent on the School of the Wolf, he was practically no different from the school's own leader. Thankfully, the outcome had been a good one.
Evenson wouldn't see the light of another day. Tissaia de Vries and Aretuza were now standing firmly with the School of the Wolf. At the same time, Allen's ties with the Temple of Melitele and Ellander had grown even closer.
Everything seemed to be heading in a good direction.
Seemed to.
Ianna and Nenneke could see the exhaustion on the three witchers' faces. They didn't push the subject of rescuing Hen Gedymdeith, only advising Allen to think carefully after some rest, not to "compromise for a mere favor." Then they let the three go to rest.
But the witchers weren't going to just head off and sleep.
First, they went to check on Hughes' room, then made their way to the infirmary.
After confirming that Bond and the two shield-bearers were stabilized under the temple's combined herbal and divine healing, they finally dragged their tired bodies back to the small barracks tucked in the temple's corner.
At that moment—
The long row of witchers' beds echoed with soft, steady snores.
"They sure can sleep like stones," Vesemir muttered with a shake of his head.
"Let them rest," Danthe said, clearly understanding Vesemir's meditative approach to replacing sleep.
"They went through a lot last night—the kids are worn out."
"No one's more worn out than Allen," Vesemir replied pointedly.
Allen gave a bitter smile, saying nothing.
Honestly, he envied Erni and Klar—carefree, without pressure. All they had to do was slay monsters as they came. But he didn't have that luxury.
The School, Kaedwen, Ban Ard, the Rissberg Cooperative, the Wild Hunt, the White Frost...
When would it all end?
Those who care always carry more than they should. And those who choose to lie flat always get to stay that way.
"Allen, I know your strength is now well beyond ours," Vesemir said after a pause, "but infiltrating Ban Ard to rescue Hen Gedymdeith is still far too dangerous."
Though Tissaia de Vries had said it was a mission entrusted to the School of the Wolf—
Everyone present knew that "the School of the Wolf" really meant Allen. At the very least, Allen was indispensable to the operation.
Vesemir frowned deeply and continued: "Hen Gedymdeith is Sunny's biggest bargaining chip. Never mind the other male sorcerers in Ban Ard—for all this time, no one has been able to find him. How will you?"
"And even if you did, he's surely under heavy protection."
"Not to mention Ortolan—someone no weaker than Hen Gedymdeith—is there now as well."
"Allen, the School of the Wolf owes Tissaia de Vries a great favor, yes—but not one worth repaying with a life, especially not your life."
"I know, Vesemir," Allen nodded, "I wouldn't rush headlong into certain death—but..."
He paused for a moment: "I don't believe Tissaia de Vries would have overlooked that risk. Most likely, she has some inside information or magical tools that can reduce the danger..."
Vesemir was clearly doubtful that Tissaia could offer anything that effective.
"What kind of thing could reduce the risk of infiltration?"
"This is Ban Ard we're talking about—once the greatest sorcerer power in the Northern Continent."
"Even the Wild Hunt couldn't destroy it back then—let alone now."
Allen said nothing.
In truth, he wasn't very confident either.
The Night's Shade that Francesca had gifted him could silence and render him invisible in darkness. And the School of the Cat's dual-sword assassination techniques had just proven their worth brilliantly. But the laboratories of the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization in Drakenborg were not the same as Ban Ard.
Ban Ard was a tiger roused from slumber by the Wild Hunt—fangs bared, body crouched low.
Honestly?
Allen didn't want to test whether Ban Ard's traps prepared for the Wild Hunt were as airtight as they seemed.
"Does Ban Ard really intend to found a sorcerer kingdom?" Danthe frowned as he stepped across the cobblestones.
"Didn't Tissaia de Vries say, 'my people heard'? It's all just hearsay."
"Exactly." Vesemir's eyes lit up, his voice growing urgent.
"Sorcerers interfering with royal authority is a true taboo. The original formation of the Novigradian Union was meant to eliminate just that."
"Even when the Council of Wizards was first founded—on paper just royal advisors—in practice, they ruled Temeria. That's when Raffard the White died."
"And back then, Raffard was one of the earliest sorcerers in the Northern Continent. His strength was nearly on par with the founders of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art But still—he died."
"How does Sunny dare take that risk?"
"Could they really withstand the pressure from the outside world long enough to establish a sorcerer kingdom?"
Allen said nothing to that. He silently walked to the doorway of the small hut and stopped.
"We'll know the details—what the plan is, where Hen Gedymdeith is, and what aid we'll have—when Tissaia de Vries returns tonight," he said.
"But I've been thinking... If Ban Ard really wants to establish a sorcerer kingdom... now might actually be the perfect time..."
The perfect time?
Vesemir and Danthe exchanged glances.
"What do you mean, 'the perfect time'?" Vesemir asked.
Allen rested his hand against the wooden doorframe and took a moment to organize his thoughts: "Kaedwen has fallen. The kingdom is gone. There's now a large number of exiled nobles—people with armies and wealth—but only two options lay before them. One: follow the exiled Kaedweni royal family. Two: surrender to Aedirn."
"The first option is dangerous. The Kaedweni royals are utterly defeated—it's clearly not a wise path."
"But the second isn't much better. Aedirn's hatred of Kaedwen runs deep. Tissaia de Vries mentioned it herself—those who surrender to Aedirn face a fate little better than chains."
"Even if they're spared, they'll have to pay a steep price."
"And now…"
Allen paused and glanced at Vesemir and Danthe.
"Sunny has offered a third road—join Ban Ard."
"There's still the threat of the Wild Hunt, but compared to the very real and immediate danger of war, Ban Ard offers magical wards and powerful sorcerers for protection."
"Now that the city of Ban Ard lies in ruins, there's ample space to house people."
"If they abandon the so-called ancient Novigradian Union, maybe they won't even need to give up much of their wealth—and could even become founding nobles of a new nation."
"Do you really think these desperate, disillusioned nobles will stay loyal to Kaedwen?"
Vesemir remained silent.
Allen didn't seem to mind. He continued, "Nobles bring administrative ability—with craftsmen, blacksmiths, tax officials, and so on. A few noble families can govern an entire town. That's potential population."
"And now, Aedirn's military advance was mysteriously halted by the Wild Hunt. Likely with heavy losses. That creates space for Ban Ard to grow."
"With the population and room to expand, if they're bold enough… founding a sorcerer kingdom isn't out of reach."
"What about the other kingdoms and the Brotherhood?" Danthe frowned. "They won't let that old pact be broken."
"Won't they?" Allen replied coldly.
Danthe and Vesemir both paused in surprise.
"What do you mean?" Vesemir asked. "Didn't Tissaia de Vries represent the Brotherhood when she came to us?"
Allen answered, "So does Ortolan. He's also part of the Brotherhood. Like Tissaia, he's one of the five from the Chapter of the Gift and the Art And he's currently in Ban Ard. Why isn't he stopping it?"
"Ban Ard was once the Brotherhood's strongest faction."
"Is Sunny really the only one trying to establish a nation of sorcerers?"
Vesemir stood dumbfounded. For someone never at ease with politics, it was like a whole new world was taking shape in his mind.
Danthe looked equally shaken.
In the witchers' straightforward and modest worldview, all sorcerers were just members of the Brotherhood—one unified group.
Just like all witchers—though divided into the Wolf, Griffin, Viper, Bear, Manticore, and other schools—when they travel the Northern Continent, they are often seen as one unified group. Even now, many old sorcerers still refer to them collectively as the "Witcher Order."
Danthe's brow furrowed so tightly it looked like a knot.
"But in the past… centuries have passed, and no one has broken that old pact…"
Allen listened to the sound of the young witchers snoring behind him and took a deep breath.
"The past is the past, Master Danthe. Times have changed."
"The number of Witchers from the School of the Wolf is rising. And sorcerers? They're multiplying even faster."
"Back in the days of Raffard the White, how many mages were there across the continent?"
"Only the most gifted humans were selected to study magic. They were sent to Aen Seidhe for arcane training."
"The passing down of magic was strictly through the master-apprentice system. A single mentor would only take on one or two apprentices—those without enough talent weren't even considered."
"But now?"
"There's Ban Ard, Aretuza, and the Nilfgaardian Imperial Academy of Magic. Even those who once would've been deemed unfit can now become sorcerers."
"Compared to the Raffard the White era, the number of sorcerers in the Northern Continent has likely grown a hundredfold."
Sunny was the leader of the radicals—those who advocated "Magic is power," "Human talent is destined to rule over nonhumans," and "Only those who are long-lived are fit to govern."
But without enough people, what are ideologies worth?
And without followers, what are factions?
In the end, Sunny's push to found a sorcerer kingdom came at the perfect moment. But really, wasn't it inevitable?
A century from now, there would be sorceresses like Philippa Eilhart undermining King Radovid V of Redania. Vilgefortz would attempt to control Nilfgaard. And the Lodge of Sorceresses would manipulate the entire continent's political and military affairs…
By many forms, with many motives and goals, sorcerers have always sought to dominate the continent. And this—despite the waning of magic and the diminishing power of sorcerers.
At its core, this is about a supernatural caste—no longer content with the limited power offered by the Brotherhood—seeking to extend their influence into the realm of mortal authority.
After all, when a sorcerer apprentice in the Brotherhood is at the very bottom of the hierarchy, yet possesses the strength to easily kill an ordinary human, a noble, or even a knight in full armor… how long could they truly stay obedient?
"What about the nobles?" Vesemir asked, still resisting the idea.
Allen shook his head.
"Even I know that many sorcerers come from noble backgrounds. Their ties run deep."
"Perhaps the nobility as a class opposes the founding of a sorcerer kingdom, but on an individual level—especially among families with mage bloodlines—not all will resist."
And so…
In the Northern Continent, where the bond between kings and nobles is far looser than a feudal chain, it's likely that the monarchs would oppose it—but whether that would matter, whether they would even dare risk war to stop it… is far from certain.
"Is Sunny really going to found a sorcerer kingdom?" Vesemir asked grimly.
"Population, ruling class, external factors…" Allen said, "aside from the Wild Hunt being a real threat, whether this was a desperate gamble or a long-laid plan—Sunny has, undeniably, found the perfect moment."
Vesemir and Danthe fell into long silence.
You don't need to be a political genius to see it clearly: Sunny, who has always harbored hatred for witchers, and the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, which now holds the same hostility toward the School of the Wolf—once they establish a sorcerer kingdom, the first target will undoubtedly be the School of the Wolf.
At that point, it won't just be a matter of whether Kaer Morhen remains inhabitable—under the enmity of an entire kingdom, can the School of the Wolf... no... can witchers truly survive on the Northern Continent at all?
Seeing the two men silently lower their heads in thought, Allen sighed and pushed open the door to his room.
And that's when—
"So, you've already made up your mind, haven't you?"
Vesemir's voice held an indescribable sorrow and guilt.
Allen didn't know what to say.
His right foot paused at the threshold before he stepped inside the room in silence.
"Creak—"
The thin wooden door let out an especially harsh groan.
—
Through the door, with only the fading footsteps left in the silence...
Allen leaned against the wooden wall, eyes on the charm above.
The three holy icons of Melitele wore their gentle, all-embracing smiles—unchanged from when he left yesterday.
The sunlight was warm, the breeze carried the earthy scent of grass, and the rustling of the leaves whispered the same white noise as always. It was as peaceful as it had been yesterday—and every day before.
Unfortunately, people change every day. Whether by choice or by force, time always pushes them forward.
"Feels like the perfect time for a nap," Allen thought, inexplicably.
But regrettably, he still had things to do.
Exhaling deeply, Allen focused his thoughts and opened his Witcher Journal.
[Ding! Would you like to use Ronnie Dickinson's Legacy Vessel?]
...
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 30 advanced chapters of American Comics: Multiverse of Madness.
2. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.
3. 30 advanced chapters of What year is this? You're still writing a traditional diary?.