"The Arch-mistress has returned to Aretuza. As for the rescue of Hen Gedymdeith, I'll be your point of contact."
With her jet-black hair neatly coiled at the back of her neck, Philippa Eilhart stepped into the parlor. She wore an outfit similar to her daytime attire—a short-cut men's jacket, leg wraps, and tall boots—but now dyed a vivid red. Black onyx jewelry nestled sharply against her pale neckline, dazzling and aggressive in presence.
From the moment she entered the room, the sorceress seized control of the conversation with sheer presence.
"I don't recall us agreeing to any rescue earlier," Allen frowned slightly. "I thought it was still under discussion."
"So, you're planning to refuse?" Philippa raised an eyebrow but remained calm under the rebuttal, her bright eyes fixed on him with amusement.
Before Allen could answer, Philippa suddenly remarked without context, "Arch-mistress Tissaia de Vries should already be at Aretuza, trying to convince those stubborn elders."
"Convince them of what?" Vesemir asked, brows furrowed.
Philippa's crimson lips curled into a captivating smile. "Why, to beat Ban Ard and the Risberg Civil Cooperative to the punch—by formally accusing Belendil Rogrides."
"Right… you're probably not familiar with Belendil Rogrides yet?"
Allen raised a brow. "A black acorn crest with golden diagonal stripes?"
"Exactly." Philippa's expression brightened. "That's the family sigil of Belendil Rogrides, a noble sorcerer who split from House Rogrides. He and I both serve on the Brotherhood of Sorcerers' Intermediate Council."
"Of course, the real reason the Arch-mistress acted so quickly wasn't because of the man himself—but because of who stands behind him."
"The Rogrides family is a true behemoth."
"Though Belendil is the only one in the Intermediate Council, the family has no less than five other members on the Brotherhood's Lower Council."
"Six sorcerers?" Vesemir's expression tightened. "How could the Rogrides family possibly have that many magic users?"
Female mages, by their nature, were infertile. Male sorcerers had slightly better chances of reproduction, but even then—only a tiny margin when they first stepped into the arcane path. Perhaps two or three out of a hundred could father a child.
And even then, the odds of a sorcerer having a gifted child with an ordinary woman weren't significantly higher than two normal people having a child born with magical talent.
Arcane talent was exceedingly difficult to pass down.
So, for one family to produce six sorcerers? That defied all reason.
Philippa scoffed. "No family can defy the laws of magic—not even the Rogrides."
"Adoptions. The Rogrides test magical aptitude across their territory and take in gifted children as wards."
"Those adoptees then use the family's influence to quietly form a power bloc within the Brotherhood."
"But magic is a meritocracy. Wealth can't buy talent. Even with all their resources, they've only managed to build power within the Lower Council."
Perhaps noticing the unspoken questions in everyone's eyes, she added:
"Belendil Rogrides may hold the same council rank as I do, but he's nearly two hundred years old and only ascended to the Intermediate Council a few years ago. His talent has almost run out along with his years."
"And, I also discovered this afternoon that both he and the other male sorcerers in the Rogrides line have had plenty of issues with the academic integrity of their 'advancements.'"
"Still, even with that said—one Intermediate and five Lower Council members make the Rogrides a formidable force within the Brotherhood."
"Especially since many of the Brotherhood's administrative duties fall to Lower Council members. In practical, worldly terms, their real authority sometimes surpasses even those in the higher ranks."
Vesemir and Dante both nodded at that.
Seeing Allen's puzzled expression, Vesemir explained, "The Brotherhood of Sorcerers' High Council consists of only five members. They hold the highest authority, but each has their own faction to manage—like Ban Ard Academy, Aretuza, or the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization—so they rarely involve themselves in internal affairs."
"The High Council handles the evaluation of magical accomplishments, the revision of internal laws, and the judgment of internal disputes."
"The Intermediate Council is responsible for overseeing sorcerer organizations, monitoring violations, and conducting diplomatic relations with the Northern kingdoms."
"As for the Lower Council…"
Vesemir paused, glanced at Philippa Eilhart, then said after a moment's hesitation, "Except for those particularly gifted sorcerers who hold academy positions or are promoted straight to higher councils, the rest in the Lower Council… pretty much do everything else."
Got it. So they do all the grunt work, Allen thought.
To put it simply—forget the High Council; they're basically the overlords.
The Upper Council sits in offices, the Intermediate goes out on assignments, and the Lower does all the dirty work.
Simple and direct.
"Exactly," Philippa nodded. "Most of the merchant guilds affiliated with the Brotherhood are also supervised by the Lower Council. And these guilds have close ties with nobles across the Northern Continent."
"So while the Lower Council might sound like it has little authority, in truth, it's responsible for quite a lot."
"More importantly, the Rogrides family includes a duke, an earl, three viscounts, and numerous barons and knights. Their influence spans Kaedwen, Redania, and Aedirn…"
"With both magical and secular power combined, the Rogrides family is immensely strong—extremely strong."
Philippa fixed her gaze on Allen.
The three witchers fell silent.
A duke, an earl, three viscounts—in any kingdom, this kind of noble power would be among the most elite, enough to sway the throne.
Even if Tissaia de Vries didn't care—acting out of a desire for balance and order—this favor she was calling in was no small matter.
Still… Rogrides… the name rang a bell for Allen.
"Yes, the Wolf School certainly owes Lady Tissaia de Vries a big favor," Vesemir said, shaking his head. "But rescuing Hen Gedymdeith… that's far too dangerous. I can't see any real chance of survival. It would be a suicide mission."
Philippa Eilhart, however, showed no change in expression—as if she had anticipated this response.
"Allen," she said, smiling sweetly at the silent witcher, "I don't know why the Arch-mistress believes you can rescue Councilor Hen Gedymdeith either… but I promise you, it's not a death sentence."
"Because I'm going with you."
"What?!!" the witchers and even Lysa exclaimed in unison.
Only now did Philippa notice there was someone else in the parlor.
She looked over at the young girl in priestess robes, taking in the wary and defensive look on her face. Then she glanced at Allen, clearly intrigued.
"And who are you?" she asked, amused.
The girl standing beside Ianna looked like a fiercely territorial kitten, small but ready to scratch.
"I am Lysa, servant of Melitele," she replied, expression blank but posture proud.
Philippa's gaze slid down two handspans from Lysa's face before replying with a slight smile, "Philippa Eilhart, Inspector of Mages."
"You said you're coming too?" Allen cut in, redirecting the conversation.
"Of course!" Philippa said. "Without me, you wouldn't even know where to go. I'm the only one who has the classified intel."
"And besides, the honorable male sorcerers of Ban Ard would only trust me—not some witcher."
"So…"
Philippa Eilhart's gaze swept across everyone in the parlor, and she curved her lips slightly.
"Now, do you all still think this is a suicide mission?"
"I wouldn't risk my life without assurance. Nor would Aretuza gamble with the life of a gifted sorceress who's a member of the Brotherhood's Intermediate Council and a field investigator."
"Does it have to be Allen?" Danthe interjected. "Vesemir and I—either of us could go in his place…"
Philippa shook her head. "Naturally, I believe the two masters of the Wolf School are more reliable, but the Arch-mistress clearly values Allen more. Before leaving, she emphasized it to me—this mission is meant for me and him…"
"Just the two of us."
Whether deliberately or not, when she said "two," Philippa cast a subtle, half-smiling glance at Lysa.
Lysa's expression remained flat, but her right hand behind her back clenched into a fist.
"I've never worked with you before," Allen said after a few seconds of silence. "Are you sure, in a place that dangerous, we'll cooperate naturally instead of becoming a liability to each other?"
He still hadn't forgotten the lesson from Francesca.
By now, Allen no longer held any idealized illusions about the canon characters, unlike when he had first crossed over into this world.
What did it matter if Philippa Eilhart was destined to become a royal advisor, a regent queen, the founder of the Lodge of Sorceresses, or the mastermind behind the Continent's political shifts?
Right now, she was just like Francesca had once been—a talented, newly graduated sorceress from Aretuza. Nothing more.
"Worried I'll drag you down?"
Philippa paused for a moment, then chuckled.
She lifted her chin high—her swanlike neck pale and elegant—then dropped the smile and replied haughtily: "Funnily enough, I have the same concern."
"This mission concerns the future of the Brotherhood and the entire Northern Continent. Though I'm sure the Arch-mistress wouldn't pair me with someone useless, I've never seen you in action."
"Fortunately, the Brotherhood and the Arch-mistress still need time to gather intelligence and coordinate with our informants. I imagine your school needs time too—for recovery, arrangements, and follow-up."
"So, I'll stay close to you from now on. We'll have plenty of time to get to know one another, to adjust, and to learn how to fight as a team."
Allen exchanged a glance with Vesemir, who gave a subtle nod. Then Allen thought for a moment and said, "Tomorrow, we return to Kaer Morhen."
"If you don't mind having me along, I'll follow," Philippa inclined her head. "I also have a way to contact the Arch-mistress. And… I've long been curious about that first griffin ever tamed by humans."
Lady Vera had her songbirds to send messages. It wasn't surprising Philippa and Tissaia de Vries had their own means of communication. However, thinking of the royal griffin who would soon be fully occupied with hatching her eggs, Allen hesitated and said: "The royal griffin can only take us back. For some reasons, she won't be available for summoning again for quite some time."
"If rescuing Hen Gedymdeith requires the griffin..."
He spread his hands helplessly.
The royal griffin wouldn't be summonable anymore... Philippa Eilhart frowned at his words. "Not even in an emergency?"
Allen thought for a moment, then answered truthfully, "She's nesting. I can't be sure that if I try to summon her in a real emergency, she'll respond."
"Nesting?!" Philippa's eyes lit up instantly. She hurriedly asked, "Can we get one of the hatchlings? I can pay for it!"
Allen looked toward Vesemir and offered an awkward smile. "Sorry, we don't even have enough for ourselves."
"I see..." Philippa looked slightly disappointed.
A well-trained royal griffin would be an enormous asset to a sorceress. In times of danger or combat, she could cast spells from the skies with ease and safety.
Letting a bunch of sword-swinging muscleheads ride one—what a waste.
Still, since the griffin belonged to Allen, he had every right to decide whom to share the hatchlings with. Philippa had no grounds to argue.
But…
Philippa cast a sideways glance at Lysa, who was quietly listening to High Priestess Ianna. Perhaps... there might be a way to negotiate for one after all.
"I'll explain everything to the Arch-mistress," Philippa said, "but I doubt it'll affect much—though leaving Ban Ard might come with more complications now."
"As long as it doesn't affect the plan," Allen nodded.
With the business discussed and settled, a moment of silence fell over the sitting room.
Then—
"Allen."
Ianna, who had so far silently observed both sides reach their agreement, suddenly spoke.
"Mother Ianna?" Allen turned at the sound of her voice.
"Once matters with Ban Ard are settled, don't forget to return to Ellander," Ianna said calmly.
"Ah… alright..." Allen nodded reflexively, then blinked and asked curiously, "Is there another task from Duke Mason?"
"How forgetful you are!" Ianna frowned, clearly displeased. "You were in a hurry to return to your school and now you're off to rescue this Hen Gedymdeith—granted, both matters are urgent, so I held my tongue."
"But once those are done, don't tell me you won't have time for the Holy Son ceremony?"
The Holy Son ceremony… Philippa Eilhart gasped and covered her mouth in surprise.
She had assumed that after the public trial of the Redanian noble Evenson that afternoon, the matter was quietly buried.
After all, the Temple of Melitele accepting a witcher—someone shunned by so many factions—as their Holy Son? It didn't make sense.
She turned her gaze to Allen, who was now frowning in thought. For the first time, Philippa studied a witcher this seriously.
She was truly curious—
What was the power hidden in this man?
....
📢Advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)
1. 20 advanced chapters of The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes.
2. 30 advanced chapters of What year is this? You're still writing a traditional diary?.