The Witcher: Wolf School's Hunting Notes

"How is it?"

The dwarf's proud voice made the two witchers withdraw their gazes, both swallowing almost simultaneously.

To be honest.

If it were some expensive jewels or paintings, no matter how valuable, they wouldn't be too impacted. But sharp weapons, sturdy armor, and various magical artifacts...

And each one a masterpiece.

Tsk, tsk...

Look at those alluring lines and curves, and that enticing glow. Which witcher—no, which warrior—could resist such temptation?

"You better watch yourself, Houghton," Vesemir said sternly, "I'm already considering escape routes…"

"Hahaha."

The dwarf burst into hearty laughter, his booming voice making the entire stone house seem to tremble.

"But you won't, Vesemir. And I trust Allen won't either," the dwarf said suddenly, his tone firm as he put away his laughter. "You wolves from the School of the Wolf are all too proud for that. Otherwise, you wouldn't have ended up like this, thanks to those damned nobles and sorcerers in Kaedwen."

"God knows why those ungrateful bastards are so hostile toward you."

"To think that if you trace back far enough, not a single ancestor of theirs in Kaedwen hasn't owed their lives to a witcher from the School of the Wolf."

"That damned glutton—well, he's dead now—only managed to secure his throne with the help of a grandmaster from your school…"

"Houghton!" Vesemir interrupted coldly.

"All right, all right, I'll stop…" The dwarf raised his hands in mock surrender, giving an awkward chuckle before looking at Allen. "Come in then… I promise, Allen, you're going to fall in love with the beauty I've crafted for you."

With that, the dwarf led the two witchers into the treasury.

Crossing the threshold made of dimeritium, a chilling coldness immediately rushed over them.

"It's a bit cold. The heart of a werewolf, the silk of venomous spiders—these rare materials from monsters tend to spoil quickly in high temperatures. So, I specifically had the Rissberg Consortium's civil engineering division design this sustained magic array for me..."

"Isn't dimeritium supposed to suppress magical energy?" Allen asked curiously.

Logically speaking.

Being surrounded by such thick dimeritium walls, even the magical lights on the walls being lit was something of a miracle.

At least, after entering the treasury, Allen felt as if the elemental energies of the four spheres around him were frozen, and his senses were slightly discomforted.

He suspected this was because his affinity for water and earth elements had surpassed ten points, allowing him to sense both.

As a side note.

Because of his ability to sense water and earth elements, he had sought out Vera to learn some spells while at Kaer Morhen.

The sorceress had examined him and confirmed that Allen could indeed learn spells, though only in water and earth elements.

She was very excited about the results. However, Allen gave up after two or three days of learning.

The progress was just too slow.

While a beginner spell had taken Mary only two or three days to learn, it would take him two or three years.

The Witcher's Codex could, of course, force it, but learning a simple water-cleansing spell would cost 137 experience points.

He'd have to be mad to spend that much. So, after a few days, he politely asked the sorceress to pause the lessons.

Still, it was a promising sign. Once his elemental affinity increased, the difficulty of learning should decrease.

"Good question!" The dwarf smiled but didn't answer directly. "That's why this treasury cost me my entire life's savings and quite a bit borrowed from Vivaldi Bank."

Even Vesemir, who had been keeping a stern face, was surprised.

For a dwarven master blacksmith to pour his life's savings into something—and still need loans—

That must be an astronomical figure, at least tens or hundreds of times greater than Elsa's wealth.

"This is it," the dwarf stopped in front of a suit of crimson medium armor on an armor stand.

It was the very piece Allen had noticed as soon as he stepped into the treasury.

Up close, the details of the armor were even clearer.

The bright red breastplate looked as if it were burning embers, or perhaps freshly stained with blood from the battlefield.

The pauldrons, bracers, and knee guards, designed to fit the body closely, shimmered with the same bluish glow as the treasury walls.

The reason Allen had noticed it at the entrance was naturally because its design was strikingly similar to Vesemir's mastercrafted armor set. Its style was unmistakable at a glance.

But the reason he hesitated to immediately identify it was because this armor seemed to be on an entirely different level in terms of material quality and craftsmanship compared to Vesemir's.

How to put it...

It was like the difference between a low-tier game's normal, rare, excellent, epic, and legendary equipment.

Vesemir's mastercrafted School of the Wolf armor might be considered rare-grade. But this piece here, at the very least, was an epic-grade with glowing special effects—maybe even legendary.

Thus.

Even though Allen hadn't appraised Vesemir's armor stats, he couldn't resist appraising this eye-catching masterpiece.

And then…

Huh?

[Name: ?]

[Type: Artificial Magical Material]

[Function: ?]

[Note: An Unfinished Masterpiece]

The question mark for the name meant it hadn't been named yet. He'd seen this before when his wolf medallion had taken shape in the Elemental Ring.

But a piece where even the function was unknown—this was a first.

Additionally...

Artificial magical material?

Peering through the semi-transparent panel, Allen's gaze landed on the flamboyant armor of the mastercrafted School of the Wolf.

"This classification is new to me."

Still, since it could be appraised, at the very least it would be something like Nightshade, a magical artifact with unique effects.

Maybe it even had game-like set bonuses when combined with other parts.

"And with the 'masterpiece' note… Maybe I should set my expectations even higher," he thought.

"She just needs an alchemist to carve the magic array and unleash the elemental energy stored in these exquisite materials," the dwarf said, his tone brimming with pride. "Don't let some second-rate alchemist ruin this."

"We won't. Lady Vera's alchemy is among the best in the Northern Realms," Vesemir said, waving a hand dismissively, though his eyes never left the crimson armor.

In his gaze, there was longing and admiration, but more than anything, confusion.

"This…" Vesemir hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer to examine it carefully for several seconds. "This doesn't seem to be the wyvern leather I gave you…"

"It's not," the dwarf nodded, stroking his beard. "Try it on first. There's a surprise waiting…"

Allen looked at Vesemir.

Vesemir glanced at the grinning dwarf, hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"Let me give it a try."

The breastplate felt firm and resilient to the touch, yet amidst the chill of the treasury, it emanated a faint warmth.

"Dragon leather..." Vesemir, helping Allen put on the armor, ran his hand over the scaled texture of the breastplate and froze.

"Red dragon," the dwarf added with a pleased smile.

The witcher master gave him a long, probing look, said nothing, and then neatly placed Allen's old armor aside before securing the straps on the new one.

The breastplate, crafted by the dwarven master, was slightly loose when worn.

Both witchers had anticipated this. After all, Allen was only fourteen, still in the phase of rapid physical growth.

With the dwarf's expertise in crafting, it was clear he had tailored the armor for Allen's eventual adult build.

However...

As soon as the straps were tightened, there was a soft swish. The entire breastplate seemed to come alive, contracting snugly to fit Allen's current frame perfectly.

"Hahaha!" The dwarf burst into hearty laughter, clearly having awaited this moment. "Did you think I'd make it based solely on Allen's future build?"

Before the witchers could respond, he continued, answering his own question: "But I, Houghton Qui-gon, am no mere ordinary craftsman who forges mundane items..."

"And the cost?" Vesemir took a deep breath. "This must have required new materials as well, correct?"

"Sharp eyes!" The dwarf gave him a thumbs-up. "The silk of a Scorpion Queen—capable of granting a leather material lifelike flexibility and activity..."

"Red dragon hide, Scorpion Queen silk, and what else? Lay it all out now," the witcher master demanded, watching Allen finish putting on the last boot.

In that instant, a glowing red shimmer spread across the armor, starting from the boots upward like rippling waves. The armor radiated a vivid, magical aura that enveloped Allen, making him resemble a high vampire from legend—majestic, mysterious, and immensely powerful.

"That's it," the dwarf said, stroking his beard. "The materials like the stomach of a archgriffon, a werewolf's heart, and dimeritium are already top-grade crafting components. Using anything better wouldn't significantly improve the results..."

Pausing, the dwarf added, "I know you witchers aren't flashy human nobles, so I only upgraded where necessary."

"Well, what do you think?"

"It feels... amazing," Allen said, closing his eyes.

A soothing warmth coursed through his entire body.

The sensation wasn't merely about resisting the cold. It seemed to interact with the magic in the environment and within the witcher's own body, making his vitality and magical energy more vigorous.

In practical terms, it slightly improved the rate of healing, mana regeneration, and the intensity of spells, especially fire-based signs and magic.

"Hahaha, of course it feels amazing," the dwarf declared, crossing his arms and grinning with pride. "Wait until Lady Vera inscribes the magical runes. It'll only get better!"

"This will be my greatest masterpiece yet!"

After a few more sincere compliments, the three in the treasure room fell into silence.

"We're very satisfied with the armor," Vesemir finally spoke, glancing at Allen. "So, tell us, Houghton, how much do we owe you?"

The dwarf shook his head.

"Don't tell me these materials were free," Vesemir said dryly, a mocking edge to his tone. "Dragons have long disappeared from the world, except perhaps beyond the Blue Mountains in Zerrikania, where such magnificent creatures might still be found..."

"The silk of a Scorpion Queen isn't much cheaper. These two materials alone are far beyond the 10,000 orens we paid you months ago."

"Of course, they're not free," Houghton admitted with a wry smile. "But you don't need to pay more. Someone else has already covered the cost."

"That conniving, unscrupulous Demavend II?"

"Conniving, unscrupulous... but exceedingly generous Demavend II," the dwarf corrected after a moment's hesitation. "He's played his fair share of tricks to get me here, but he's always delivered on his promises. He never backstabs his allies, and I've been very comfortable here in Vergen over the years."

Vesemir glanced at Allen. "I'd rather pay more orens, Houghton. While I may be broke, this armor's owner happens to be surprisingly wealthy."

Under the dwarf's baffled gaze, Allen casually pulled out a few bank certificates. The sums printed on them totaled over 100,000 orens.

These were bearer bonds from Vengerberg and Ellander, collected over the past six months.

"Name your price, I can pay," Allen said decisively, as earning money was hardly a challenge.

In fact, with a large new order for necrophage oil and specter oil from Ellander, Allen's earnings would only grow in a couple of months.

The dwarf stared in stunned silence, as though he'd misheard.

After confirming the long strings of zeroes on the Vivaldi Bank notes, his rough, bearded face was filled with disbelief.

A witcher master who'd lived for centuries was somehow poorer than a 14-year-old?

Seriously?

The dwarf scrutinized Allen for a moment longer, as though trying to discern what unique method a young witcher could have for making such money.

"Even so, I can't accept it," he eventually muttered with a bitter smile. "Both the red dragon hide and Scorpion Queen silk were delivered by knights under Demavend II's orders."

"When we return to Kaer Morhen, the council will surely..."

"Hey, hey, hey!" Houghton interrupted loudly, raising his voice. "Vesemir, my old friend, it's just a archgriffon! Didn't you kill one just a few months ago?"

"You know why, Houghton," Vesemir replied coldly. "The School of the Wolf..."

"The School of the Wolf maintains neutrality..." Houghton grumbled, tugging at his beard in frustration. "I get it, everyone knows about your damn code of honor."

"But think about it! Ignoring how the sorcerers and nobles of Kaedwen treat you, a Archgriffin isn't even at the front lines. You wouldn't be favoring any side..."

"Even at the front lines, witchers have been known to clean up necrophages during battles. Many times, even!"

Vesemir's icy glare silenced the dwarf, who began to stammer. His voice grew smaller and his tone guiltier with each word.

Finally, when Houghton's face twisted into a grimace and he fell silent, Vesemir spoke without a hint of emotion: "Don't play word games, Houghton. Don't play word games."

"Clearing ghouls on battlefields was done with the consent of both sides. Would Demavend II let Kaedwen learn about this?"

Houghton's expression turned sour. "Doesn't all our years of friendship count for anything?"

"If it's just drowners or ghouls causing trouble, of course, we'll help you. But a Archgriffin..." Vesemir shook his head firmly. "The impact of a Archgriffin on Kaedwen and Aedirn's political situation is far too significant."

"No room for negotiation?" The dwarf's thick eyebrows bristled with anger.

Vesemir sighed deeply and resolutely shook his head.

At that moment, the chill in the treasure room seemed to deepen further.

.....

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

For advance chapters: [email protected]/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)

337. Neutrality?

338. Repaying a Favor or Owing One?

339. Strange Strengths and Lifts.

340. Hunting the Royal Griffin.

341. The Demon Opened Its Crimson Eyes.