Vera stopped on the path through the sea of lilies of the valley. "Where did you hear that term?"
The sorceress's ruby-like eyes shimmered with surprise.
So Vera really does know something... Allen's eyes lit up as he made something up on the spot:
"From a male sorcerer named Ronnie Dickinson, from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization."
"Ronnie Dickinson?" Vera's eyes widened even more. "I know him. He's a senior member of the Sorcerers' Brotherhood's High Council. But he usually operates around Redania and doesn't have a very friendly stance toward non-human races or witchers…"
"So why would he talk to you about the Legacy Vessel?"
"Wait a moment…"
The sorceress paused, her brows knitting in a worried frown. She asked, now with urgency and concern: "What exactly did he say to you? Besides the Legacy Vessel, did he mention anything else?"
Realizing that her tone had been too pushy, and remembering Allen's wariness since the Trial of the Mountain, she quickly added: "I'm not trying to sow discord between you and Ronnie Dickinson."
"While the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization covers a wide range of research fields, their strengths lie in genetic modification, biomaterial mutation, and magical warfare constructs."
"Their general orientation is far from friendly to witchers. You can't take their words at face value…"
"Ronnie Dickinson, in particular, has a long record of persecuting elves, dwarves, and gnomes... His past is filled with atrocities…"
"You didn't sign any experimental contracts with them, did you?"
"Did they take your blood? Hair? Any tissue samples—skin, flesh?"
The more she spoke, the more panicked she sounded. She circled around Allen, touching here and there, worried sick he might've been marked or implanted with something.
Before Allen could even react, the bronze clasps of his leather armor had already been undone. He jumped back in alarm and quickly explained: "No, no, I didn't sign anything! And no one took my blood or any part of my body."
Vera finally stopped, frowning in confusion. "Then why would Ronnie Dickinson tell you about the Legacy Vessel?"
Allen countered, "Is information about the Legacy Vessel really that important?"
She nodded. "Within the Sorcerers' Brotherhood, only High Council members with high-level clearance—who pay a huge price and sign strict secrecy contracts—have access to that classified information."
"Without paying that price, Ronnie Dickinson would never have gone around the secrecy pact just to tell you."
"He didn't exactly tell me…"
"Then how did you—?"
"I killed him," Allen said bluntly. "You know I have a few... special methods. I used them to extract the information about the Legacy Vessel from him."
Vera was stunned.
Though she was aiming for a seat on the Brotherhood's Supreme Council and a provisional position with the Talent and Technique Association, her current rank was the same as Ronnie Dickinson's—both were High Council members.
Even if his magical strength was slightly lower than hers, Ronnie was far from someone who lacked combat ability.
Just a few months ago, Allen had needed Sol's help just to take down large monsters in Ban Ard. Even fighting off a rampaging Drowner would leave him exhausted.
And now, this boy—who only became a witcher six months ago—was telling her he'd killed Ronnie Dickinson?
That… that was impossible!
"Of course," Allen said, noticing Vera's stunned, suspicious gaze and feeling a chill down his spine, "it wasn't exactly a fair fight. Ronnie underestimated me."
"If he'd been fully prepared, I'm not sure I would've won."
"Still… that's not something just anyone could pull off," Vera murmured.
Isn't it normal for a child of miracles to perform miracles?
Only… were the miracles coming a bit too frequently?
Once again, Vera had to convince herself to accept that her boy was a genius. But then a troubling thought hit her—
Why did Allen even cross paths with Ronnie Dickinson? And end up killing him?
"Can you tell me the full story?" Vera took a deep breath, her voice laced with concern.
Allen thought for a moment. Since he would eventually have to talk about the letters and reporting to the Chief, he might as well start from the beginning—his journey down the mountain over two months ago.
He told her everything: how he went with Vesemir to rescue Lord of Vergen, the dwarf master-smith Houghton Qui-Gon…
How they were deceived. How he convinced Vesemir to subdue the Griffin terrorizing Vengerberg. How they were ambushed by Vilgefortz , sent by Ban Ard. How he tamed the Griffin, lifted a curse at the Melitele Temple, stopped an evil god from descending, stormed into Drakenborg, and executed Redanian nobles…
Aside from the part about rescuing Hen Gedimedes, Allen told Vera everything.
Vera's expressions were just as vivid as the story itself—her face shifted constantly, her mood fluctuating with every turn of the tale.
Once Allen had finished, she stared at him in silence for a while, clearly wanting to say something but holding back. Finally, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and spoke with a complicated expression: "Male sorcerers, royal griffin, evil gods, Drakenborg… Are you seriously telling me all of this happened in just two months, not two years?"
Allen chuckled awkwardly and sighed. "I didn't expect so much to happen just from going down the mountain…"
Yeah, originally it was just about fetching the Wolf School's master gear from Horton Qui-Gon—who would've thought things would spiral into all this chaos?
"Kaedwen has fallen…" Vera sighed, looking north toward the illusionary sky.
Her tone was tinged with emotion, but not quite sadness. It seemed more like a sigh over the passage of time and the changing of eras.
But that made sense. It was Sol and the Wolf School who had adopted the glutton Henselt and helped Kaedwen clear out monsters.
Who knows—Vera might've even had some conflicts with the Chief back then over that mother and child.
Don't be fooled by Vera's gentle demeanor in front of Allen—she was still a typical sorceress through and through.
"Does Sol know?" Vera suddenly asked as she gazed at the serene, cloudless sky.
"Everything except for Drakenborg was already sent back in a message over half a month ago," Allen replied. "But it seems like the Chief hasn't seen it yet. I'm still hesitating about when I should report it all to him."
"I wonder how the Chief is doing now…"
"Wait a few more days," Vera interrupted. "Sol's current condition isn't suited to hearing this news."
Allen fell silent for a few seconds.
Of course, he'd prefer if the Chief never had to hear it at all—but the world wouldn't stop turning just because he wished it would. Every event that had unfolded needed a timely follow-up, or else the consequences could be dire.
Compared to all that, even Francesca coming to sign an alliance on behalf of the Free Elves seemed like a minor matter.
He thought aloud, "The attack at Drakenborg just needs to be reported to the Griffin School with a warning letter. That's not urgent."
"As for the response from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization and Ban Ard, Lady Tissaia de Vries is already handling it."
"But Kaedwen's downfall, while it hasn't yet affected Kaer Morhen directly, will definitely reach us soon."
"If the nearby village of Kaer is overrun by fleeing soldiers or refugees, it'll threaten our supply lines."
Kaer Morhen wasn't like in the original story, where only Vesemir, Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert held down the fort—each one powerful and capable of hunting year-round, even in deep winter.
In reality, the fortress housed dozens of full-time apprentices still undergoing grueling training, many of whom hadn't yet passed the Trial of the Mountain. There were also elderly, disabled, or otherwise injured witchers who could only do basic, non-combat tasks.
There were fewer than ten active witchers in total, and even those varied widely in strength.
And that was with Fred, Erni, Klar, and the others who had just returned from their missions.
If not for the fact that the monster-hunting team had recently grown strong enough to operate independently, they themselves might've become an unsustainable burden on the Wolf School.
It was clear that relying solely on a handful of familiar faces wouldn't be enough to support all of Kaer Morhen through hunting and foraging once the supply lines were affected.
Even if they could initially hunt game and gather wild berries, the animals would flee, and the edible plants wouldn't just grow back instantly after being picked.
Over time, the food sources would inevitably dwindle.
If they didn't plan now, once the harsh winter arrived and the witchers of the Wolf School returned, the situation would only grow worse.
And without the involvement of the Chief, all efforts would yield half the results for twice the effort.
Besides, were Dante, Hughes, and the others the only unlucky ones on the Continent to be ambushed? Wouldn't other witchers of the Wolf School also encounter similar conspiracies and dangers?
After the fall of Kaedwen, in addition to bandits and refugees, there were also looming political crises.
How should the Wolf School position itself with Aedirn's rise?
Should they rescue Kaedweni noble exiles? Submit to Aedirn? Or try to maintain neutrality?
Even if they chose neutrality, it would still require a clear stance from the Chief.
Moreover, they couldn't ignore Ban Ard, which was secretly pushing for independence. What should the Wolf School's attitude be toward that wizard kingdom brimming with hostility?
These matters simply couldn't be handled without the Chief.
Vera clearly understood this too. She furrowed her brows and lowered her head in deep thought for a while before finally saying, "As for the bandits and refugees, we can Chief warn the village chief of Kaer Village and have them prepare accordingly."
"As for supplies, I'll send some over through a portal, and then have Kaer Village step up their purchasing and collection efforts."
"The rest…"
She paused again in silence. "Let's make arrangements shortly. Hand me that letter—I'll find the right moment to pass it to Sol."
Allen could only nod.
Earlier, Sol had only been asked to come out and sign an alliance agreement in the evening, and that alone had caused Lady Vera to dramatically proclaim "You'll come home when you're better!" and angrily shout, "Don't you want to be part of our future?!"
Clearly, the Chief's condition was far from normal.
In Allen's previous world, this would be equivalent to being admitted to the ICU.
And this wasn't even over Kaedwen yet—it was the death of the gluttonous Henselt, who betrayed him, that had devastated Sol this much.
Kaedwen's stability had been Sol's lifelong endeavor. Allen dared not imagine her reaction when she learned that Kaedwen had fallen, and that half a lifetime of effort had been ruined in a single stroke…
No matter how dire the situation was, now was not the time to disturb her—it would have to be left to Vera.
"The Legacy Vessel…" Allen brought the topic back around. "Lady Vera, have you also signed the secrecy pact under the Brotherhood of Sorcerers?"
Vera nodded, complaining, "Though I heard it from Tissaia de Vries, she's such an old stickler—she wouldn't tell me anything until I signed the pact."
Seeing the shift in Allen's expression, she asked curiously: "You want to know how the Legacy Vesselis formed?"
"But didn't you already get information from Ronny Dickinson?"
So… he had signed the contract too… Allen felt a bit disappointed.
Still, at least there was now a channel to gather more information—and he could still ask Aristo and Sol—so he didn't press further. Instead, he patiently explained: "I only learned the term 'Legacy Vessel' from Ronny Dickinson… and that it's some kind of object that leads to the pinnacle of strength…"
"I see…" Vera lowered her gaze and thought for a moment. "Actually, how a sorcerer condenses their Legacy Vessel… well, bound by the secrecy contract, I can't say—but for witch…"
"Bzzzz~"
The wolf medallion on the witcher's chest let out a shrill hum, cutting off the sorceress.
Allen instinctively turned to look behind him.
"Rooaar—!"
A deafening dragon's roar suddenly exploded in the direction of the courtyard.
Within the roar, faint sounds of chains clashing and a man stifling groans of pain could be heard.
It was the voice of the Chief—Sol.
What kind of agony could make a man like Sol—someone of such stature—groan involuntarily, even before his lover, Vera, had gone far? Allen frowned slightly.
The next second—
"Boom!"
A bolt of crimson lightning shot up from the courtyard, carving a black and red scar across the clear sky in the blink of an eye.
Then—
"Shhk—"
As if a sharp spear pierced delicate silk, the illusion of Toussaint was torn open, revealing the gloomy and oppressive stone cavern hidden behind it.
A monstrous draconic aura surged forth, stirring up violent winds. Even the remaining illusions rippled under its pressure—
Like a massive stone dropped into water, waves of distortion spread outward.
Vera's brows furrowed as she looked down sorrowfully, as if deeply empathizing with Sol's pain.
Only when the howling winds of dragon might were about to reach them did she suddenly snap back to awareness.
"We need to get out."
She bit her lip, grabbed Allen, and pulled him back the way they had come, barely reaching the edge of the courtyard that overlooked the sea of bluebells before the storm hit.
With a long finger, she touched the air beside a signpost engraved with a lion.
In the next moment—
That familiar sensation of weightless teleportation returned. This time, there was no pain, unlike the excruciating one they'd felt when arriving.
Then—
The howling wind ceased abruptly, the overwhelming tinnitus vanished, and darkness fell over the world.
When the blue cat-like pupils adjusted to the shadows—
A massive anti-magic golden gate, embossed with a snarling wolf's head, loomed before him.
"Because of the secrecy contract," the sorceress broke the silence with her cool voice, "I cannot tell you how sorcerers condense a Legacy Vessel. But Sol's... that one I can."
She locked eyes with Allen.
What reflected in her gaze was a sorrow as deep and frozen as the icy rivers beneath the hundred-foot cliffs of Blue Mountain in the dead of winter.
"Once you step onto that path... there's no turning back."
"Do you really want to become the next Sol?"
......
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