163. Too Weak!

"Why?"

The Witcher master stopped in his tracks upon hearing this, turning around in surprise to look at Allen.

The young Witcher glanced inside the inn: "Master Vesemir, regardless of whether the one who ordered the Cat School to attack us last night is who we think it is or not..."

"The Orchard... no... including Ban Ard and the surrounding areas, none of them are safe for us anymore..."

"So, like yesterday during the day, it's too dangerous for just the two of us to go out searching for clues while leaving Hughes and the others to take commissions in the town."

"Taking them along would make us too conspicuous and hard to hide."

"This commission, after all, might be from... the couple we're searching for might also be the ones that person is after..."

"Therefore, if I go alone, it might be the best option."

Allen spoke sincerely, looking directly into the dark golden cat-like eyes beneath the wide-brimmed black hat. Vesemir looked at Allen for a moment, then turned his gaze towards the inside of the inn.

Hughes, Bond, and Fred were engrossed in their lunch, not noticing the two at the door. Although Bond's injuries had mostly healed under the effects of the "Verdant Sigh," the slight stiffness in his wrist movements was still apparent.

Then.

Vesemir lowered his head, pondering for a moment before sighing, his tone wavering as he tried to persuade: "The risk of this commission is too high. The king... and now a powerful figure has shown hostility towards us..."

He paused, hesitating: "Maybe we should abandon this commission, or wait until after the Apprentice Duel Tournament ends. We can send Hughes and the others back, and then I can..."

"There's no time," Allen shook his head, interrupting him, "That powerful figure is also taking action, hesitating even for a moment might mean we'll never complete the commission."

"And this commission..."

Allen emphasized, his expression serious: "Is extremely important for us."

"I have a feeling that the opportunity to change the fate of our school lies hidden within this."

Seeing the Witcher master still hesitating, Allen smiled gently, carefully choosing his words to reassure him: "Don't worry, Master Vesemir. I'm just following up on the clues we found yesterday. With my current strength, there shouldn't be any problems."

"And if I do run into trouble, I still have the magical items Lady Vira gave me!"

The magical items from the Scarlet Fox?

Indeed, Lady Vira had given Allen the "Verdant Sigh" to drink like water, so she wouldn't have left him without some life-saving magical items before departing. Hearing this, the Witcher master's eyes lit up, but then dimmed again.

In fact, even without Lady Vira's magical items, Allen was unlikely to run into any serious trouble.

After all.

Whether in swordsmanship, signs, or physical conditioning, he had far surpassed the average Witcher. Apart from some monster knowledge, search skills, and minor survival tricks, he was more than capable of traveling alone.

But...

But Allen was only fourteen years old!

Such a young age, yet he might have to face a colossus like the King of Kaedwen all by himself...

Thinking of this, Vesemir couldn't help but feel a deep sense of powerlessness and frustration. At such an age, Allen should have been growing slowly under the protection of the Kaer Morhen, under his guidance.

But now.

With potions, sword oils, elixirs, and the Witcher battalion...

Now, it seemed that both he and the school were hiding under the wings of a fourteen-year-old child, like cowardly fools...

What a disgrace!

Vesemir thought.

Then he adjusted his mindset, managing a stiff smile as he nodded to acknowledge the young Witcher's suggestion: "Allen, you must be careful."

"No matter how important this commission is, no matter how much it might change the fate of the Wolf School, your safety is more important."

Allen felt a warmth in his heart at these words, nodding firmly: "Don't worry, Master Vesemir."

"There won't be any problems."

With that.

Allen and Vesemir entered the inn. Two bowls of stew, white bread, and ale were already placed at the empty seats beside Hughes on the wooden table. So, after nodding a greeting to Hughes, the two Witchers sat down to enjoy their meal. Soon, the Witchers had finished their lunch.

"Huh?"

"Allen, where are you going?"

Hughes noticed Allen getting up from the table and heading towards the stables, asking in confusion. The young Witcher turned around with a smile: "I have a commission to complete this afternoon."

A commission?

Hughes glanced at the Witcher master, who seemed unfazed, as if he had already known about it.

If there was a commission to do, why didn't he bring Vesemir along?

Moreover, with the Cat School attacking just yesterday, how could Vesemir allow Allen to act alone?

Then it hit him, and Hughes froze, glancing at the equally bewildered Bond and Fred. Then, they stared blankly at Allen as he bid them farewell. He thought he understood why.

Not bringing Vesemir along was because the master needed to protect him, Bond, and Fred.

After just being attacked, and Allen still insisting on completing the commission, with Vesemir agreeing to it...

Naturally... it must mean that what Allen was going to do was extremely important. So important that it had to be done, even if it meant Allen might face danger, Vesemir had no choice but to let him go.

Hughes absentmindedly accompanied the other Witchers in seeing Allen off at the inn's door, watching him mount his black horse and ride towards the mountains, braving the early spring chill. His solitary figure gradually receded into the distance and then vanished around a corner.

Looking at the empty street, Hughes suddenly asked: "Master Vesemir, are we too weak?"

The question was vague, but the Witcher master understood. He turned to look at Hughes, who was staring off into the distance.

At that moment.

He suddenly realized that this student, who used to doze off in class, flee in panic at the sight of drowners, and seemed unfit for a Witcher's life in every way...

Had somehow... changed.

Just then, Hughes also turned around, meeting Vesemir's gaze.

He didn't shy away as he usually did, nor did he avoid eye contact. Instead, he looked seriously at the Witcher master.

"Master Vesemir, are we too weak?" he asked again.

Beside him.

Fred was deep in thought, his head lowered.

Bond was instinctively touching his wrist, where the recently healed wound still felt itchy and uncomfortable, his expression downcast. Vesemir looked at the scene before him, and the comforting, dismissive words that were about to leave his mouth suddenly changed.

"Yes."

He said seriously.

"Yes, it's precisely because you are too weak that I have to stay here to protect you."

He continued, his expression solemn.

"Yes, it's because you are too weak that Allen and I don't even dare tell you what's really going on."

The three young Witchers heard this and almost simultaneously lowered their heads in shame. After a brief pause, the Witcher master looked over the three, all of whom were only fourteen or fifteen years old, sighed inwardly, but still continued in a stern tone: "Remember this day, my apprentices."

"Remember this silhouette and the shame you feel right now, young witchers."

"The reason you couldn't walk alongside him, fight beside him, is simply because..."

"You are too weak!"

-------------------

A clearing in the woods near Ban Ard.

"Oh, so Brett is dead, is he?" The bald man shook his head without emotion. "A pity. His swordsmanship was the best among all the Cat School witchers."

Even though the bald man said it was a pity, Guxart could not detect a hint of emotion in his tone or expression. Only indifference and coldness.

"Oh," was the only response the bald man gave after Guxart reported the results of last night's attack on the Wolf School. As for the death of Fredeca, the bald man didn't even utter a word of evaluation.

"Treyse, there's something wrong with this contract," Guxart said.

"I know there's something wrong with it; we knew that even before the mission began," the bald man tilted his head slightly, confused by Guxart's statement.

Guxart was at a loss for words.

Indeed, this mission was openly a scheme by the king. He wanted to stir up conflict between the two witcher schools. But looking at the indifferent tone and attitude of the Cat School leader, Guxart couldn't help but feel disheartened. There weren't many witchers in the Cat School to begin with.

Including the apprentices in training, there were only about forty of them. There were just fifteen fully-trained witchers... or rather, there were now only thirteen. Because of the king's intelligence, the Cat School had lost one-seventh of its manpower.

In terms of combat strength, the loss of Brett and Fredeca alone reduced the school's fighting power by at least a quarter. But... but as the leader of the Cat School, Treyse merely expressed mild regret.

"It's not just that. The king deceived us."

"How could he not know the strength of the Wolf School witchers who openly entered Ban Ard?"

"This is different from just being hostile to the Wolf School afterward. We..."

The bald man raised a hand to interrupt Guxart, his murky yellow cat-like eyes showing a trace of laziness. He casually said, "500 Orens!"

"What?" Guxart was momentarily stunned.

"500 Orens for a regular apprentice, my dear Guxart. That price alone should have told you this mission wasn't going to be simple."

"But..."

"No buts. I've told you before, Guxart..."

The bald man looked seriously at the puzzled, naive Cat School witcher and shook his head, saying, "The world's food supply is dwindling. For a wild cat to avoid starvation, even its enemies could be its own kind."

Guxart froze.

Enemies could be their own kind?

Wasn't this referring to the Wolf School witchers?

But from Treyse' tone, it sounded like... it sounded like...

He suddenly widened his narrowed pupils in disbelief, staring at the person he had always trusted and respected the most: his companion, mentor, and leader. He felt that at this moment, Treyse was completely unfamiliar. Cold and cruel, like a merciless wild cat.

A creature so ruthless that, when hungry, it wouldn't hesitate to eat its newborn cubs.

"Treyse, do you know what you're saying?" Guxart couldn't help but raise his voice.

"Of course I know, my dear Guxart, of course I do."

The bald man adjusted the sword bag on his back. After a moment's pause, he said seriously, "My apprentice, my naive friend, the Cat School is finished."

"What?" Guxart looked around.

Ever since the sorcerers had "politely" escorted them out of Ban Ard yesterday, the Cat School had found this spot in the forest to settle. The witchers had, as usual, found a clearing, instructed the apprentices to dig a small pit, and then watched them spar with long swords in the pit.

This "real sword duel" was the favorite sport of Cat School witchers. Except for Guxart and Treyse, everyone was gathered around the "arena." Of course, besides being a form of entertainment, it was also the final trial for Cat School witcher apprentices. So, as long as they had a caravan, it didn't matter if there was no inn, no stone or wooden house.

Any forest could become their home. They could pass on their skills anywhere.

How could a school like the Cat School suddenly be finished?

"Or rather, it's nearly finished."

Raising his hand to interrupt Guxart's doubts, the bald man continued, "Do you think the king only wants to incite hatred between the Cat School and the Wolf School, to weaken and eventually eliminate the Wolf School?"

Isn't that the case?

Guxart hesitated, about to ask in return. But the bald man tilted his head, looking into the depths of the forest, muttering to himself, "No, he wants to destroy the Wolf School first, then the Cat School, completely wiping us out."

"Not just us. All witcher schools will gradually be wiped out!"

"Why?"

Guxart's pupils contracted in shock at the revelation.

"Fewer monsters, more witchers, lawlessness, inhuman appearances..."

"So many reasons, who knows which one?"

"But I know this—the witchers are finished!"

The bald man sighed.

"Where did you hear this... this news that witchers are finished?" Guxart quickly asked.

"I'm the leader of the Cat School. As the school that's closest to humans, of course, I have my channels."

The bald man chuckled, brushing off the question, then sarcastically added, "Those old fools nesting in their mountain castles probably still dream of reviving their schools, rebuilding the Witcher Order!"

For a moment, the flood of information was overwhelming, too shocking. Guxart found it hard to accept all at once. The bald man didn't rush him, glancing at the noisy apprentice duel in the distance, his eyes reflecting emotions even he couldn't fully grasp.

"If that's the case, why did we take the king's contract?"

"Shouldn't we be joining forces with other schools?"

"And why do you seem so indifferent to the deaths of our comrades due to the king's false information? Shouldn't we be..."

Regaining his senses, Guxart, still shaken, fired off a series of questions.

"Join forces? Are you serious? Which school would ally with the infamous Cat School?"

"Wolf? Bear? Or Griffon?"

Guxart was momentarily stunned by the bald man's reply. Seeing Treyse shake his head, he continued, "And even if we did join forces, so what?"

"All the witchers in the world combined probably don't even number five hundred, while the soldiers of the worldly kings and nobles exceed tens of thousands!"

"As for those worthless fools who died..."

The bald man turned, looking deeply into the horrified Cat School witcher's eyes, and coldly said, "Guxart, that was my intention..."

....…

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164. Even if He is the King of a Nation!

165. The Woman in the Camp.

166. The Daisy of the Valleys and the Child of Miracles.

167. That Damn Reckless Elf!

168. A Trap from Fifteen Years Ago.