"Allen just woke up from his coma; how could he drink alcohol…" Francesca Findabair glanced at Mary holding the wine and said softly, "There's Cosatare grass, Heart-pinch herb, safflower, and mint in the flower tea…"
Heart-pinch herb can neutralize toxins and clear gangrene and infections from the blood. Safflower is a good medicine for replenishing blood, and Cosatare grass calms the nerves and aids sleep.
Of course, if it's only made as tea, it definitely won't be as effective as a potion.
Damn it, this elf really is scheming… Mary's face flushed bright red.
Elven flower tea is also well known across the Northern Continent. She learned it from the alchemy master Vera, so it was impossible she didn't know these herbs' effects, and of course she could not forget that Allen was injured.
It was just that the cunning elf had already prepared tea specially for the guests, and she naturally couldn't let the elf take the lead. Instinctively, she took out from Vera's "storage" the most expensive bottle of Est Est.
Before she could even pour it, her buzzing head tried to figure out how to explain to Vera where she would get the money to repay this bottle of wine. The elf had already gone to Allen's side, and she could only follow.
One thing after another—by the time she understood what was happening, it was already too late.
Francesca Findabair raised her head proudly, and Mary's eyes grew teary with anxiety.
"Thanks, Mary, Fra… Enid, I'm not thirsty right now."
Actually, he was very thirsty—his throat felt like it was on fire… Allen sighed inwardly and gave Francesca Findabair and Mary a small nod.
Mary immediately breathed a sigh of relief.
Francesca Findabair did not press the advantage. Quietly and gracefully, she placed the steaming, fragrant flower tea on the bedside table: "Alright, I'll leave it here. Drink it whenever you get thirsty."
Then she stepped aside.
Mary froze at the sight. She sniffed the fresh wine aroma rising from her cup, then looked at the steaming tea on the bedside table, torn for a moment, then lowered her head in defeat.
All the gazes cast at her felt like mockery.
Allen sighed inside but smiled on his face: "Mary, just put the wine down too. I haven't had a drink in a long time—let me smell it to ease the craving."
Danthe laughed loudly to smooth things over: "Don't worry, Allen, once you're healed, you'll have all the alcohol you want."
"Mary's wine isn't enough. I still have some Est Est I won off Aristo," Vesemir added.
"Count me in. I don't have Est Est, but I know the best wine merchant in Mayena," Korin joined in. "And there has to be a bonfire, and—"
Korin suddenly remembered that the sorceress beside him was a druid. He paused and exchanged a glance with Visenna.
"The Mayena Circle of Druids isn't that extreme," Visenna said, shaking her head. "Aedus and Elwin often light bonfires in the forest, drink, and dance. Honestly, with such esteemed guests, there should have been a feast. That we didn't host one was our discourtesy…"
"It's fine. Back then Alan's condition wasn't stable yet—that was our discourtesy," Vesemir waved his hand and laughed heartily. "So let's wait until Allen recovers, and then celebrate together!"
At those words—
The atmosphere inside the wooden cabin instantly warmed.
The men, intentionally or not, began imagining the upcoming feast, and for a while, no one paid attention to the corner where Allen was.
Master Vesemir, Master Danthe… Mary looked back tearfully, nearly moved to crying by the two Wolf School witcher masters.
She suddenly realized her own advantage—Vesemir, Danthe, Aristo, and Hughes, Bond, Fred, even Elwin and Klar…
The Wolf School was her advantage.
Francesca Findabair could prepare elven tea, elven potions, and elven tools with great care, but she would never be a member of the Wolf School.
And the chief sorceress of the Wolf School's Witcher Corps would always be her—Margarita Laux-Antille.
She could tirelessly help Allen refine heart-essence fluid, potions, blade oils, bombs, and decoctions. She could train the witcher apprentices of the corps, teach them Signs and Battle Roar, and assign patrols around Kaer Morhen.
Could Francesca Findabair do that?
Mary proudly lifted her little chin, her eyes slightly red as she glanced at Francesca Findabair.
Francesca Findabair's expression didn't change, but she met Mary's gaze without backing down.
Behind her, two pale fists quietly tightened, her beautiful shell-like nails digging deep into her palms.
At that moment—
"Wmm~"
Several witchers' school medallions in the cabin vibrated.
Everyone stopped talking and looked outside.
A portal opened at the hut's entrance, and Vera stepped through it.
Mary, who had been proudly glaring at Francesca Findabair just moments earlier, shrank instantly. She panicked and hid the opened bottle of Est Est behind her back.
Fortunately, everyone's attention was on the portal—otherwise it would've been another round of public humiliation.
Allen, however, guessed what happened and couldn't help but shake his head in amusement.
Est Est was an extremely high-grade and expensive wine, ancient in history, even predating the founding of the Duchy of Toussaint. The duchy even had a special decree for it—the "Holy East Wine Ordinance."
Every year, during the ceremony, two barrels of that year's wine were placed in a reserved spot in Beauclair Palace's cellar. Anyone who unsealed them privately would be sentenced to death—dragged behind a carriage until dead.
Less than a thousand bottles were produced each year, each worthy of appearing in any high-end auction.
Allen often saw it only because Vera, Vesemir, and Aristo—whether sorcerers or witchers—were all peak figures in the supernatural world, influential people with long lives. They naturally had opportunities to buy a few bottles. That didn't mean Est Est was not rare or precious.
Mary had truly been driven to desperation by Francesca.
"Hmm? Everyone is…"
After Vera entered the hut, she froze when she saw everyone holding both a teacup and a wine cup.
"Enid and Margarita are very hospitable…" Ida Emean said with a half-smile, meaningful in tone. "They prepared both tea and wine for us…"
Hearing this, Vera looked at Francesca Findabair, then at her beloved apprentice, lost in thought.
Francesca Findabair immediately stepped forward and also poured a cup of elven flower tea.
Mary bit her lower lip, shouting in her heart, "It's over! It's over! It's over!" She stiffly walked forward as well, and under Vera's meaningful smile, she also poured her a cup of wine.
Vera sniffed the unique smoky aroma of Est Est and glanced at Mary.
Mary blinked her large, glossy, slightly reddened eyes pleadingly.
"Vilgefortz still hasn't arrived…" Allen spoke up at this moment.
Vera looked deeply at Mary, then downed the elven flower tea Francesca Findabair had poured for her in one gulp. She approached Allen and said, "Vilgefortz left half a month ago. Many major events happened in the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, and Tissaia asked him to help."
"What happened in the Brotherhood of Sorcerers?" Allen raised an eyebrow.
Vera sat on the bedside, looked at Allen's bright blue eyes, and sighed meaningfully: "A lot… a lot of things. It's hard to make it clear in a short time…"
From Vera's tone, Allen sensed something and frowned.
But because there were many people in the cabin, Allen did not ask further, deciding to wait until fewer people were around.
Vera also had no intention of explaining further. Just as she was about to set down the wine cup and examine Allen's injuries, she turned her head and saw the untouched tea and wine on the oak cabinet. Her hand holding the cup paused slightly. She placed the wine beside the tea and asked: "Allen, how do you feel?"
"Not bad. Lady Visenna just examined me and said I'm recovering very well…"
Hearing this, Vera stopped her own examination, thanked Visenna, and casually asked a few questions about the black dragon and the dragon-slaying.
Visenna answered truthfully.
After hearing that the black dragon's traces had vanished and the dragon-slaying party was about to dissolve, Vera nodded lightly, then changed the subject and asked what everyone had been talking about before she arrived.
Very soon, because of the topic of a banquet, the cabin became lively again.
When the bonfire feast was casually decided with just a few words, the men—more accurately, Korin—had drunk enough wine and began bragging.
Korin talked about leaving Kaedwen alone and drifting between various mercenary groups, and also about meeting Visenna in the Amell Mountains and the thrilling experience of slaying a Koshchey together…
Vesemir and Danthe lifted their cups enthusiastically, shouting loudly, telling all kinds of thrilling witcher stories and making the atmosphere extremely lively.
Even the always-silent Jerome Moreau drank his wine and told Korin and Visenna about the differences and origins of the Griffin School and the Wolf School, explaining that the Griffin of the Griffin School was not the royal griffin tamed by Allen, but the name of an instructor from the witcher order era who taught swordsmanship and knightly spirit—"Griffin."
After that, the topics drifted everywhere—witcher masters who had traveled across the Northern Continent, stories from all corners of the world, strange male mages, the overbearing ways of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, and which regions still foolishly practiced the "right of the first night"…
The women did not join in but smiled as they watched the men revel.
Vera summoned several more bottles of wine, Ida Emean somehow produced a bowl of nuts, and Visenna cast a spell inside the cabin, enlarging the small oak table and adding a few extra seats.
Only Mary and Francesca Findabair looked somewhat uncomfortable, staring blankly at a corner of the room, lost in thought.
The air was filled with the rich smoky aroma of Est Est and with laughter and cheer.
With only a bonfire missing, the feast had begun early.
Allen leaned against the bedframe, smiling, occasionally responding to keep the mood lively.
In a daze, Allen felt as if he had returned to a year ago, when he had just passed the Trial of the Mountain. Back then, in the great hall of Kaer Morhen, the returning witchers also drank and boasted loudly like this.
The fireplace sent out rolling heat; on the spit above it, the roasting boar sizzled with oil, filling the hall with fragrance.
It was then that he made up his mind—to change the fate of the Wolf School's Kaer Morhen defense battle, to stop its destined destruction.
And now, he could finally say he succeeded.
No matter what happened next, the possible instigators of the Kaer Morhen defense battle—Kaedwen's royal family, nobility, and the mages of Ban Ard—could no longer pose any threat to Ban Ard.
But…
Allen suddenly froze. He saw Francesca Findabair, staring blankly into the void, a line of blood appearing across her swan-like slender white neck, her blue eyes turning pale and empty; he saw Mary, her head lowered, her chest torn open, scarlet intestines, stomach, liver… all her organs spilling out and splattering onto the ground; Vesemir, laughing heartily, suddenly turned into roaring and screaming as the flesh on his face dissolved and flames burst out of his eye sockets…
Danthe's head was smashed into his chest, Vera crushed by a giant stone…
"Huff—huff—"
He gasped violently, lifting a hand to clutch the sudden stabbing pain in his chest—but a slender, cool hand grasped his.
"Allen?" a clear, cold voice called to him.
He returned to his senses. There was no bloodline on Francesca Findabair's neck, Mary's chest was full and well-developed, Vesemir's beard was stained with dark-red wine, Danthe still wore that careless look, and Vera was watching him with her mouth half open in worry.
That cold, clear voice—it was Vera's voice.
"Mm… ah?" Allen instinctively let out two broken sounds.
"Korin is asking you, asking how you killed the old speartip?" Vera answered.
"Uh, that… that was…" Allen, who still hadn't pulled his mind away from the bloody scene just now, felt terror pounding in his chest like thunder, making him unable to speak a complete sentence.
Forcing control over his facial expression was already the limit of what he could manage now.
"Are you tired?" Visenna asked with concern. "You recovered quickly, but you were seriously injured after all…"
"P-probably…" Allen endured his rampaging heartbeat and closed his eyes, pretending to be exhausted so the sharp-sensed witchers and sorceresses wouldn't notice the fear in his eyes.
The cabin still carried the smoky wine scent of Far East East liquor, mixed with the fruity aroma of other grape wines, but the lively atmosphere suddenly cooled down.
Allen felt someone holding his hand. Water-aligned magical power mixed with gentle mental waves traveled from his wrist and flowed through his body.
"It's fine, he's probably just tired." Vera withdrew her right hand.
"Then let's leave and let Allen rest properly." Visenna suggested, pulling Korin as she headed out.
"Sorry…" Lying on the bed with eyes closed, Allen suddenly spoke. After pausing for a few seconds, he continued, "Once I'm recovered, I'll tell you everything about the Trial of the High Mountain."
"What are you apologizing for?" Korin laughed heartily. "Rest well, Allen. In this state, you won't be able to handle much drink at the banquet."
"Hahaha, that's right, Allen, rest well!" Vesemir and Danthe also laughed.
"All right, let's go, don't disturb Allen's rest." Visenna began ushering them out.
Everyone nodded and left the cabin.
Only Francesca Findabair and Mary were still lingering, unwilling to go.
Vera exchanged a glance with Ida Emean.
Ida Emean patted Francesca Findabair's shoulder. "Enid, your father sent a letter. He has something to discuss with you…"
"Father?" Francesca paused. "I can go later—"
"Now. It's urgent." Ida Emean interrupted.
Francesca looked at her, understood the insistence, glanced at Allen, then at Mary. In the end, unable to resist the authority of the Sage, she followed Ida Emean out of the wooden house.
"Mary, come with me. I have questions for you…" Vera looked at Mary without expression.
Mary, who had been excited when Francesca was being driven out, instantly turned ashen.
Bang~
The wooden door closed softly.
For a moment, the small cabin held only the rustling of leaves in the wind and the crisp cry of a kingfisher.
Until…
A low, wounded-beast-like growl suddenly sounded, shattering the peace and quiet of the cabin—
"I'm going to kill you, Eredin Bréacc Glas!!!"
..........
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