"In time. Before we arrived, the main tower————" Erland pointed toward the tallest tower within the camp, "there was a violent surge of magical fluctuations inside."
"The Brotherhood of Sorcerers' official statement is that scouts who were surveying the terrain of Dol Dhu Lokke have returned, and they suffered considerable injuries."
"As for why the priestesses of the Temple of Melitele are absent from their quarters, many mages don't even know. Some only realized the Temple of Melitele was participating in this expedition after I mentioned it."
That was hardly surprising.
Although mages, like secular nobles, held high status on the Northern Continent, their daily pursuits were nothing like those of nobles, who had to govern cities, train armies, and maintain vast social networks.
Most mages immersed themselves in research, meditation, and cultivation—people who were solitary and capable of enduring loneliness.
Let alone three or four days without leaving their faction's quarters—remaining holed up in a mage tower for half a year or even a year was commonplace.
Of course, there were mages adept at management and fond of socializing.
But this was the forward camp preparing for the expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke, not some luxurious and secure courtly ball.
And not every extraordinary faction was like the Rogrides family or Redania's Crowned Silver Eagle—troublemakers who had come specifically to sabotage and disgust others.
Those sent to participate in the expedition were naturally those skilled in combat—or at least capable of surviving it. The smooth-talking social types were far fewer.
A male mage as versatile and socially adept as Vilgefortz was an exception.
"Mm, the information I received is roughly the same." Sol nodded thoughtfully. "At this point in time, scouts being injured while surveying terrain can be a minor or major matter. If exploited by someone with ulterior motives, it could affect the expedition. The Brotherhood wanting to keep it quiet is understandable."
"But to hide all the people from the Temple of Melitele altogether… that's excessive."
"What I find strange," Valerius frowned and interjected, "is just how severe the scouts' injuries were. If the Bear School hadn't been delayed by a few days, we should already be setting foot in Dol Dhu Lokke by now."
"The scouts sent to survey Dol Dhu Lokke's terrain should only have been wrapping things up. They shouldn't have suffered any injuries at all—let alone injuries serious enough to require the Temple of Melitele's involvement."
"Where's Vesemir?" Sol suddenly asked. "Didn't you see Tissaia?"
Whether from standpoint or through Vera's connections, the Wolf School's relationship with Tissaia de Vries was quite close.
Making inquiries was necessary—but merely supplementary. It was better to ask her directly.
"I did," Vesemir nodded, though his expression was not good. "But Tissaia only said the expedition would proceed as planned. Relocating the priestesses of the Temple of Melitele to the main tower was simply to facilitate their care of the wounded."
"And did you see the priestesses of Melitele?" Valerius pressed.
Vesemir nodded. "I did. Melitele didn't send many this time—only about a dozen. When I saw them, most were praying and meditating."
He glanced at Allen. "Lysa met with me and told us not to worry about her. When I asked why she wasn't staying in her quarters, she said the priestesses of the Temple of Melitele were not only caring for the wounded, but also preparing medical supplies for the expedition."
"There were sorceresses from Aretuza standing nearby. I didn't ask further. When I heard that the Bear School was about to arrive, I hurried back."
The witchers of the Wolf and Griffin Schools fell silent for a while.
"This… this is too strange." Valerius' brow furrowed deeply.
Yes, too strange—Allen was thinking the same thing.
Just as the scouts surveying terrain should have merely been wrapping things up. Leaving aside whether preparing medical supplies ought to be the responsibility of the Temple of Melitele—external supporters—at this point in time, if not for the Bear School's delayed arrival, the expedition would have already begun. Shouldn't all logistical supplies have long been prepared?
Lysa and Tissaia de Vries were clearly lying—or at least concealing quite a bit.
Yet compared to Lysa's relationship with Tissaia, her relationship with the Wolf School was only closer. She shouldn't be hiding things from them for the Brotherhood's sake.
And from both encounters, Lysa did not seem to be under duress. Moreover, Tissaia de Vries herself was strange.
Tissaia was not someone who liked concealment.
On the contrary, she was almost frank with everyone who could approach her—so frank that she hardly seemed like a sorceress fond of political maneuvering.
Besides, in this expedition, aside from Aretuza itself, the Wolf School could practically be considered Tissaia de Vries' direct ally.
Allen did not know what had happened within Dol Dhu Lokke that would compel Tissaia de Vries to choose concealment.
He only knew that it must be something that would completely affect the entire expedition—
No.
It was something that would cause the expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke to die before it even began—
A heavy, obscure shadow fell over Allen's heart.
The expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke had not yet started, yet it already seemed to be going awry.
"There's no need to investigate this further," Sol said, pushing himself off the wall of the Griffin School's quarters and uncrossing his arms. "Other factions might withdraw from this expedition, but our two schools will not. Continuing to dig would serve no purpose."
"On the contrary, it might alert other factions and disrupt Aretuza's plans."
"When Tissaia de Vries placed such a heavy bet, we should have known this commission wouldn't be so easy to accept."
"And there's no need for too much worry————"
Sol cast a subtle glance at Allen. "Since Lysa is helping Tissaia conceal matters, then this incident is not aimed at us witchers."
"So we take it one step at a time—and be extra cautious."
"That's all we can do." Erland shook his head helplessly.
Indeed—when had anything in this world ever been that simple?
Tissaia de Vries adhered to principles, but she was no great philanthropist. If she promised to expend enormous resources to rebuild the Novigradian Union and bring the witchers into it, she would certainly expect sufficient returns.
Merely reassuring the witchers so the expedition could proceed normally would not be enough.
Afterward, the witcher masters of the Wolf and Griffin Schools conversed a while longer. The topic no longer centered on the Temple of Melitele's priestesses, but instead shifted to the Rogrides family and Redania's Crowned Silver Eagle.
Clearly, while gathering information, the Griffin School witcher masters had also learned of the conflict the Wolf School encountered upon arrival.
As fellow victims of the Rogrides family's schemes, the Griffin School naturally chose to stand on the Wolf School's side, promising to fight in unity during the expedition.
"Oh, right—wait for me a moment————"
As the discussion was nearing its end, Allen suddenly slapped his forehead. After apologizing, he ran to the Wolf School's quarters and returned shortly.
"Allen, what is this?" Erland looked at the saddlebag Allen had brought back. After a moment's thought, he waved a hand. "You can keep that saddlebag to store books. I'll ask the Brotherhood for ano—"
As Allen approached, Erland heard the faint clink clink of glass lightly colliding and the sloshing of liquid inside the saddlebag. His voice faltered.
At the same time, Allen shook his head.
"I'm not here to return the saddlebag."
Erland subconsciously accepted it and looked inside.
Inside the saddlebag were bottles of potions in various colors, each labeled and annotated with chiffon paper.
"Petri's Philter — increases Sign intensity after consumption —"
"Tawny Owl — accelerates stamina regeneration —"
"Golden Oriole — grants immunity to toxins and neutralizes poison in the blood — Allen, these are—"
"They're all potions I brewed," Allen nodded expressionlessly. "Vesemir and I have both used them. These are the ones selected as suitable for the Griffin School."
The saddlebag's contents had indeed been chosen long ago.
Witcher's Notes was an extremely precious gift. Although Erland surely had not expected anything in return, Allen could not truly treat it merely as repayment for saving Jerome Moreau.
Even though the relationship between the Wolf School and the Griffin School was already close enough, bonds could only truly warm through exchanges like this.
Moreover, enhancing the Griffin School's survivability and combat capability during the expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke was also, in a sense, an enhancement for the Wolf School.
Allen could find no reason not to share the potions.
And these potions had not been selected by him alone—they were chosen after two full days of careful consideration by Vesemir, Sol, and himself together.
Aside from Petri's Philter, Tawny Owl, and Golden Oriole, the saddlebag also contained Killer Whale (enhances underwater breath-holding capacity and improves underwater vision), Cat (grants vision even in total darkness and increases critical strike chance), and White Honey (reduces toxicity to zero and removes other potion effects).
Petri's Philter and Tawny Owl strengthened the Griffin School's advantage in Signs. Killer Whale enhanced survivability. Golden Oriole prevented being poisoned and severely injured—or killed—by "one's own side." White Honey allowed them to purge toxicity when necessary, switch potions, and adjust tactics.
It could be said that, given limited carrying capacity, this was the most suitable potion combination for the Griffin School.
Of course, Blizzard—the universal potion that slowed time when one was in danger—was applicable to any witcher school.
But considering how special its effects were, and especially that the Griffin School witchers were completely unfamiliar with these potions and required annotations at present, it was not suitable to expose it now.
After all, an expedition meant many people and many loose tongues. Mages had all sorts of investigative tricks. There was no guarantee secrets would not leak.
Potions like Killer Whale, Cat, Petri's Philter, and Tawny Owl would have some impact if exposed—but not much. In essence, they were enhancements to abilities witchers already possessed. Among mages' potions, there were expensive superior substitutes.
But Blizzard was different.
Blizzard could be regarded as a trump card. Its effects were subtle after consumption.
As long as the Wolf School did not expose it themselves, few could even guess at its existence. More importantly, no alchemist had ever created a potion with a similar effect.
Thus, for now, Blizzard was the Wolf School's "forbidden potion."
As for the Archgriffin Decoction Allen frequently used, there simply was not enough supply.
Not current supply—these gifted potions had already been prepared for long-term provision.
But the Archgriffin Decoction required archgriffin bone marrow and lesser red mutagens. Large-scale supply was impossible at present. Moreover, its adrenaline-centered combat style suited the sword-focused Wolf School far better—so it was omitted entirely.
Sword oils were also not provided, because those from the Griffin School participating in the expedition were all witcher masters.
Ordinary oils would not have much effect for them. This was not a game where every strike shaved off fixed health. In reality, a single decapitating blow killed a monster thoroughly, regardless of type.
"You created all these formulas?!"
Erland looked down again in astonishment. At a glance, there were at least four or five types of potions inside. And from Allen's tone, these were only part of the varieties he had created.
He was certain these had all been developed within the past year.
Before the Trial, witcher training was extremely rigorous. There was neither time nor opportunity to study alchemy, much less experiment with it.
Adding in sword oils—had Allen created nearly ten different potions in a single year?
"Yes… I did." The formulas had come from treasure chests; the chests came from monsters Allen had slain. If the formulas obtained from the chests were not considered his creations, whose were they?
Of course they were his.
"Remarkable!"
Erland and the other Griffin School witchers exchanged glances, unable to restrain their admiration—once again.
But then his tone shifted.
"However, Allen, Witcher's Notes was a gift. You don't need—"
Potions were extremely expensive on the Northern Continent. No witcher school treated sharing suitable potions as routine. Erland instinctively wanted to refuse.
"Accept them, Master Erland," Vesemir said. "Allen's potions are not that costly to produce, and their effects are outstanding. They suit witchers very well."
"Dol Dhu Lokke is too dangerous. And now so many unexpected variables have appeared. Any increase in strength is worthwhile."
Erland looked at Allen, then exchanged glances with the other Griffin School witchers.
"Accept them, Grandmaster," Jerome Moreau spoke up as well. "I've used these potions. They're indeed very effective."
"Very well. Then I'll accept them." After a moment's thought, Erland no longer refused and took the saddlebag from Allen.
At that very moment—
Bzzz...
The witchers' school medallions suddenly vibrated.
Immediately after, an orange-red portal spiraled open before the Wolf School's quarters.
The sorceress Maeve stepped out of the portal, her face solemn as she announced: "The Conclave is being urgently convened!"
........