LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 336: 337. Neutrality?
The Wolf School adhered to neutrality.
In fact, aside from the Cat and Manticore Schools, other schools like Griffin, Bear, and Viper also avoided tasks that went beyond their core duty of hunting monsters.
This principle of "non-interference" was a lesson learned from the collapse of the Witcher Order. It was also a necessity imposed by the humans of the northern continent during the times of rampant monsters.
The moral compass of humans could sink astonishingly low.
If working for the powerful—killing people—could bring enough wealth and status, who would risk their lives hunting strange, dangerous, and powerful monsters?
Thus, for a long time, "adhering to neutrality" was virtually regarded as a law, mutually acknowledged by the Witcher schools and the ruling powers of the northern continent.
Any Witcher or school that broke this law faced severe repercussions.
Over time, however, as the number of monsters dwindled and humans occupied the habitable lands of the northern continent, eliminating monsters fell lower on the list of priorities for rulers. Only the Witcher schools remained committed to this tradition.
Even if Allen found the principle frustrating, he had to admit that the Wolf School still needed it. At least in this instance, the principle was indispensable.
Otherwise...
Unless Aedirn completely conquered Kaedwen, the forces within Kaedwen hostile to Witchers could openly attack Kaer Morhen, settling scores after the war.
And there would be no need for mages or nobles to fabricate rumors to tarnish the Witchers' reputation.
Helping an enemy nation during wartime would make the Wolf School outcasts in Kaedwen, viewed as traitors. The Kaedweni nobles and commoners alike would despise them, likely drawing the ire of other northern kingdoms, ultimately forcing them into Aedirn's camp.
If that happened, they might as well have relocated to Ellander earlier and allied with Temeria.
At least Temeria, being the strongest among the northern kingdoms, treated Witchers far more favorably than Aedirn, whether by its nobility or its common folk. So, Vesemir wasn't wrong.
Dealing with regional monster infestations or even bending the rules to eliminate small monsters preying on soldiers might be excused.
But the Royal griffin Houghton Qui-Gon mentioned was too significant a factor in the war, possibly even part of Kaedwen's strategy.
That was a job Vesemir and Allen simply couldn't take.
"At least not publicly," Allen thought to himself.
The suffocating silence, enhanced by the icy chill, felt as though it could freeze the very air. Suddenly, Vesemir broke the silence. "Name your price, Houghton."
The dwarf glared at him, then looked at Allen, finally letting out a long sigh and waving his hand dismissively.
"Forget it. Take my masterpiece and go. Just make sure Lady Vera chooses an appropriate alchemical enchantment. I'd recommend fire or earth…"
"Wait…" Vesemir interrupted the dwarf's rambling. "The red dragon hide and the silk of the Scorpion Spider Queen are worth at least 30,000 or 40,000 orens. You're just letting them go?"
"They weren't mine to begin with," Houghton replied bluntly, waving his hand.
"But this…" Vesemir hesitated.
"Take it," the dwarf said with a grin, patting Vesemir's thigh. "Demavend II anticipated your refusal. He's cunning, yes, but undeniably generous…"
"I know how generous he is," Vesemir replied with a helpless smile. "You've mentioned that plenty."
"Then let me give you some advice," Houghton laughed heartily. "You Wolf School Witchers should visit Aedirn more often. We may not be as wealthy as Ellander or offer a castle like Temeria, but there's no shortage of contracts here."
Vesemir paused, sensing an underlying message in Houghton's words.
"What do you mean?" he asked, frowning.
"Ever since the Curse of the Black Sun, the world has grown increasingly chaotic," the dwarf explained, gesturing for the Witchers to follow as he left the treasure room. "Deep within the valleys of Vergen, things are still fine, but the villages below have been attacked by drowners two or three times. The battlefield carnage has also drawn an unusual number of ghouls."
"You care about that?" Vesemir asked in surprise. "Aren't you only interested in hammers and ale?"
"What nonsense!" the dwarf huffed, puffing out his chest indignantly. "I'm still the lord of Vergen, responsible for the lives of hundreds…"
Bang!
The treasure room doors, glowing faintly with a bluish hue, slammed shut, locking away every warrior's paradise behind them.
Vesemir cast a skeptical look at Houghton.
The dwarf smacked his lips, hoisting a lantern. "Fine, it's a warning from Demavend II. In one of his letters, he admitted he has a bad feeling about the future."
"What kind of bad feeling?"
"He says he senses the world might return to an age of rampant monsters," Houghton replied dismissively, leading the way. "Of course, I think he's talking nonsense. The man schemes all day in his palace; no wonder he's paranoid…"
"Every mage, dwarf, and elf knows the number of monsters has been decreasing."
"They say even magic itself is growing less vibrant," Houghton added.
Vesemir glanced at Allen, a shadow of concern in his eyes. "But there was a Conjunction of the Spheres in Ban Ard, along with the Curse of the Black Sun…"
Houghton halted, his lantern casting flickering shadows. "When I overwork myself at the forge, my craft varies too—some blades are good, some are not…"
"Why can't the world itself have fluctuations?"
"But…"
Before the two Witchers could respond, Houghton turned back to them, his expression serious. "That's just my perspective. Maybe Demavend II's hunch is right."
"And compared to gathering dust in his treasury, the materials are better used to forge ties with you Wolf School Witchers—just in case."
"After all, there aren't many of you left. And after descending from Kaer Morhen, you always seem to head straight for cities like Vizima or Novigrad by the coast…"
"To be honest, except for seeing you twice this year, I haven't met another Witcher in Vergen for years."
This was true.
The Wolf School Witchers' annual routes rarely included Aedirn.
Even when heading to the southern parts of the northern continent like Sodden, Cintra, or Toussaint, they usually took a detour through Temeria.
Partly, this was due to Kaer Morhen's location in Kaedwen, which maintained relatively amicable relations with its royal court until recent years. The other reason was that Aedirn, being landlocked, agriculturally driven, and war-torn, was simply too poor.
Aside from the capital, Vengerberg, most other cities couldn't offer any decent rewards, and the entertainment options there paled in comparison to the richer, western coastal cities.
Witchers had desires too.
Those with the means would vote with their feet.
"When we get back, I'll persuade the senior members…" Vesemir paused, glancing at Allen. "I'll make it a point to come to Aedirn more often as well."
Allen nodded in agreement.
"Hahaha," the dwarf laughed heartily at this, "that's good enough for me."
At that moment, they reached the main hall.
The cool moonlight poured through the hollow windows, casting a frost-like glow across the floor.
"Will you stay the night?" the dwarf asked, glancing at the dark sky outside.
"No," Vesemir shook his head and waved dismissively, "we traveled with a merchant caravan to get here. Thanks to your tall tales, they're still waiting by the Pontar River for news…"
"Well then, let me escort you." The dwarf chuckled awkwardly, scratching his head.
After walking a few steps…
"The matter with the Royal griffin—there's really nothing that can be done about it?"
"There really isn't."
"I understand."
The empty hall echoed with a deep sigh.
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The two witchers didn't allow Houghton Qui-Gon to see them off, retracing their path to leave Vergen.
The knights of the Aedirnian royal envoy, who had been sent by King Demavend II, were still in the city. Since they had refused the commission regarding the Royal griffin, there was no need to make a scene or cause additional trouble.
Night deepened.
Walking along the neatly paved stone road, the chill wind from the Blue Mountains howled, carrying a faint icy edge.
As they listened to the sounds of their footsteps and the rustling leaves, Vesemir pondered the impact of the Royal griffin on the war's trajectory and its implications for the future of the Wolf School. Suddenly, he noticed Allen's blue cat-like eyes unfocused, lost in thought.
After a moment of consideration, Vesemir spoke up. "What's on your mind?"
"That Royal griffin," Allen replied reflexively, his sapphire eyes trembling as they turned to the witcher master. "Vesemir, do you think the griffin attacking Vengerberg now has any connection to the one we hunted two months ago?"
Vesemir abruptly stopped walking.
"Perhaps there's a connection; perhaps there isn't. Either way, it has nothing to do with us." He stared seriously at Allen. "I know you don't agree with the school's neutrality or the actions of certain sorcerers and nobles in Kaedwen, but in this matter, we must do nothing."
As if worried Allen might act impulsively, Vesemir continued walking toward the forest where their horses were tethered and shifted the topic. "Instead, think about our next move—where we'll go from here and how to return to Kaer Morhen."
"No, something's wrong."
Vesemir paused, confused. "What's wrong?"
"We can't do nothing," Allen shook his head. "From the way Houghton Qui-Gon looked, if we don't act, Aedirn might lose its supply lines to that Royal griffin, potentially leading to a ceasefire."
Vesemir froze in place again.
But before the master witcher could respond, Allen continued: "The school has already broken ties with Ban Ard."
"During the apprentice tournament, the sorcerers didn't act only because the king died in their territory. Since then, the war has occupied most of their resources."
"But what happens after the war ends?"
"Will the sorcerers and the new king reconcile because of this war?"
"Will the nobles hostile to the Wolf School redirect their forces after peace is restored?"
"With our conflict now in the open, do you think they'll let their 'enemy' remain undisturbed in their ancient keep?"
Allen paused, fixing Vesemir with a serious gaze: "The Witcher Corps has been growing stronger rapidly. Every second is crucial to us."
"War is a terrible thing; many will die. But right now, the Wolf School needs Kaedwen to remain too preoccupied to bother with us."
In silence, Vesemir met Allen's determined gaze, his expression shifting unpredictably.
The mountain wind howled, bending the surrounding trees until their branches bowed.
Leaves scattered in the wind, some brushing against the two witchers.
After a long pause…
"But… if Kaedwen discovers that we killed the Royal griffin, Kaer Morhen will still face danger."
Vesemir's rebuttal came hesitantly.
Yet instead of feeling discouraged, Allen's eyes lit up.
"Then we'll ensure Kaedwen never finds out," he said resolutely. "We're not taking this job for Aedirn's king or his reward. There's no reason for anyone—Houghton included—to know we were involved."
"The griffin is enormous and, according to Houghton, appears daily near Vengerberg. We don't need anyone's help to locate it."
"We can use illusions to disguise our identities like we've done these past few days."
"Once we locate the griffin near Vengerberg, we'll lure it to a remote area using bait and take it down."
"Swiftly and silently."
Vesemir lowered his head, contemplating for a moment before sighing deeply. "You always have a way of convincing me."
Allen finally exhaled in relief. "That's because you're accommodating me, Master Vesemir. And everything I do is for the school's future."
"Yes," Vesemir muttered tiredly with another sigh, "all for the school's future."
With that, the two witchers silently walked to the small grove where their horses were tied. They untied the reins and mounted their steeds.
As Vesemir adjusted his horse, Allen, seeing the master's low spirits, thought for a moment before speaking:
"Master Vesemir, to bring back Erni and Claral safely on the return trip and avoid the sorcerers' potential ambushes, we may very well need the help of that Royal griffin."
"And it'll be easy."
"What do you mean?" Vesemir asked, startled.
Allen glanced ahead, his eyes locking onto the translucent Witcher's Notes in his vision.
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[Name: Behemoth Snare of the Cyclopean Clan]
[Type: One-Time Magical Item]
[Function: Place the collar around the target's neck and secure the lock to confuse the mind of low-intelligence targets, greatly increasing the probability of taming them.]
[Note: This does not support humanoid targets. What are you thinking? It's a collar for great beasts!]
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"You'll see soon enough…" Allen said cryptically, giving his horse a gentle nudge with his legs and disappearing into the darkness.
The night deepened further.
.....
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338. Repaying a Favor or Owing One?
339. Strange Strengths and Lifts.
340. Hunting the Royal Griffin.
341. The Demon Opened Its Crimson Eyes.
342. The Disappearance of the Seven Witchers.