Chapter 238: 239. Is There Really Nothing We Can Do?
Heading east...
Vesemir wore a complex expression as he looked back in the direction they had come from.
The Wild Hunt was widely known as a bad omen, a harbinger of disaster—especially a sign of impending war. Whether in the North or in Nilfgaard to the South, this legend was common knowledge. Some even worshipped the Wild Hunt in the name of the god of war, hoping to avoid the ravages of war.
So... war...
Though Vesemir's view was obstructed by the cabin and the wild forest, he knew that beyond lay Aedirn and Kaedwen. There, the shadow of war had already cast its gloom over the land.
Vesemir wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps by now, the borders of Kaedwen had already begun to feel the probing sparks and frictions of blood and fire.
"Could it be... that the Wild Hunt really exists? Are there truly creatures that feed on war?" Vesemir murmured, lost in thought.
If not for the power of that blue light, which he had witnessed with his own eyes, he never would have believed that the Wild Hunt, which was used to scare children, actually existed.
"Even a master witcher, an expert on monsters, doesn't believe in the existence of the Wild Hunt?" Ernesto said with a bitter smile.
Yet, even after being denied repeatedly, he neither got angry nor stubbornly insisted on the truth of what he had witnessed. It was as if he were studying the Wild Hunt as an academic subject—dialectically, objectively, and curiously absorbing all the external information.
Vesemir realized that his murmuring had unintentionally conveyed impolite doubt. He smiled apologetically and said: "Sorry, I wasn't doubting your words... It's just..."
He paused, then continued to explain: "From the moment I became a witcher, it's been decades now, and I've never seen the Wild Hunt..."
"Some contracts I received in the past that seemed related to the Wild Hunt always turned out to be nothing more than the machinations of nobles or the delusions of the clients..."
"Other witchers from the School of the Wolf, even our leader, share the same belief..."
Ernesto nodded in understanding, sighing: "Yes, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes today, who could truly believe that the spectral warriors of war who ride the skies actually exist?"
"But..." Ernesto's tone shifted.
"Isn't there a witcher school that was founded specifically to defeat the Wild Hunt?"
Vesemir frowned, giving Ernesto a serious look, and said: "You know quite a lot."
Ernesto squinted, smiling slightly: "After all, I'm a master lecturer in the Occult Department at Oxenfurt Academy..."
Vesemir found this a bit odd.
However, he had developed some fondness for this amiable and unassuming professor from Oxenfurt. Moreover, the information Ernesto asked about wasn't exactly a state secret. So after a few seconds of thought, Vesemir said: "You're referring to the School of the Viper."
"They're based far away in Nilfgaard and typically operate only there..."
"But the information you have is correct."
"The founder of the School of the Viper, Grandmaster Ivar Evil-Eye, did indeed always claim..."
"That his Evil Eye constantly showed him visions of the Wild Hunt's spectral knights pillaging, slaughtering, and conquering..."
"However..."
Vesemir paused, then said: "Grandmaster Ivar Evil-Eye was one of the early witchers created by the Witcher Order."
"We've always believed that his Evil Eye and his knowledge of the Wild Hunt were nothing more than hallucinations caused by his mutations..."
"But now, it seems these were perhaps not hallucinations, right?" Ernesto smiled as he adjusted his glasses.
Vesemir remained silent.
At that moment, Ernesto suddenly stepped forward with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice: "Master Vesemir, I have a request..."
Vesemir frowned, looking at him without saying a word.
He had a vague feeling. The reason Ernesto had engaged him in conversation was for the request that was about to follow. Ernesto continued: "I know that a master witcher is held in high regard by all witcher schools, so..."
"Could I ask you to write me a letter of recommendation?"
"Once this journey is over, I plan to travel to the Viper School's castle in Nilfgaard, hoping to meet Grandmaster Ivar Evil-Eye and access their research on the Wild Hunt..."
"The Wild Hunt has already appeared, yet the noble rulers and common folk remain completely unaware, and this is extremely dangerous!"
"Warning them, preparing for the future—that is the responsibility of a scholar from Oxenfurt..."
Ernesto's tone grew suddenly fervent, making Vesemir feel somewhat uncomfortable. However, after thinking it over for a moment, Vesemir found no reason to refuse.
Ernesto was just an ordinary person, not much of a threat to witchers. And from what Vesemir knew of Ivar Evil-Eye's reputation...
A Grandmaster who had devoted his life to hunting down the Wild Hunt would likely be more than happy to have someone spread the word about the Wild Hunt's threat.
Thus.
Vesemir nodded and said: "Alright."
At that moment, Vesemir still hadn't realized that he no longer doubted the existence of the Wild Hunt. Ernesto, overjoyed by Vesemir's agreement, beamed: "Then let's go quickly. Blackbeard's Tavern should have paper and ink, right?"
He looked toward the dwarf, John Kramer.
"Of course!" The dwarf rolled his eyes, puffing out his beard as he grumbled, "Humans, you can find everything you need at Blackbeard's Tavern..."
Vesemir, seeing how lightly Ernesto traveled, all ready to go, couldn't help but ask: "What about your companions? Don't you need to bring anything?"
Ernesto smiled and shook his head, patting the leather satchel slung over his shoulder: "No need, I've just got what's on me."
"I came with a merchant caravan; I just need to make sure to catch the ship tomorrow."
"Alright, let's go then," Vesemir nodded.
But they hadn't gone far.
He suddenly realized that Allen had been silent this whole time, gazing at the eastern sky, lost in thought.
"What's the matter, Allen?" Vesemir asked, turning his head.
"Nothing..." The young witcher glanced briefly at the dwarf and Ernesto, then shook his head and asked: "Are we heading back to the tavern now?"
Seeing that Allen was unwilling to answer further, Vesemir didn't press him. After a nod, they continued toward the tavern.
Unconsciously.
The young witcher had fallen behind the group.
Listening to the witchers, the innkeeper, and the professor of the occult continue their discussion about the Wild Hunt, Allen turned his head and cast a long, deep look at the clear blue sky to the east.
"Heading east..."
"With the Elder Blood not yet revealed, are these Aen Elle heading east in search of something?"
"Could it really be because a war is about to break out there?"
Allen shook his head. A strong premonition gripped his heart. They had come for Ard Gaeth's Gate and the conjunction of the spheres.
The Wild Hunt...
They had come for him!
----------------
Realizing the Wild Hunt had completely left, the terrified crowd began to reappear on the streets. The glacier-like pillars of ice had begun to melt, but the temperature around the tavern grew even colder. Perhaps, as Ernesto had said, the Aen Elle's powerful magic had no purpose at all.
It was merely because the market was the largest and most conspicuous building nearby.
It was the most conspicuous "Ant Nest" in the floating harbor.
As a result, despite the port not being deliberately targeted, there weren't many casualties. In fact, due to the nature of the building, most of the people at that location in the trading market were foreign merchants. So, outside the cluster of ice, there was only a mother and daughter crying.
The rest of the crowd surrounding them were mostly onlookers.
Of course, there were some with angry expressions, loudly cursing because of property losses. And then there were a few others suppressing smiles of joy, likely because their bosses or profit-sharing partners had died inside.
Joy, anger, sadness, the myriad aspects of life were all on display.
Vesemir, chatting with the dwarf and Ernesto, passed by the ice cluster and seemed to catch the attention of the young mother crying over it. She suddenly picked up her little girl and ran toward Vesemir. As she ran, she shouted:
"Witcher! Witcher!"
Under the gaze of the crowd, Vesemir had no choice but to stop: "I am Vesemir of the School of the Wolf. What is it, madam?"
"Waaah—"
The sudden rush seemed to have hurt the little girl.
As soon as the beautiful woman stopped, the girl started crying loudly. The woman, helpless, nodded apologetically to the Witcher, her eyes swollen from crying. After wiping away her tears, she patted the girl on the back, soothing her for a while.
Once the girl stopped crying, she looked up with tear-stained eyes at Vesemir: "Sorry…"
"No need to apologize…" Vesemir shook his head. "Is there something you need from me, madam?"
There was compassion in his expression. He had a good idea of what the woman wanted to say, and he also knew he would likely be powerless to help. The woman took a deep breath and, with a poised demeanor, said: "Master Vesemir, I've heard of the School of the Wolf. The Witchers there are noble and highly skilled monster hunters…"
"You don't need to flatter us. Just get to the point!" Vesemir sighed and interrupted.
The woman froze.
Seeing the expression on the Witcher's face, her heart sank.
But when she thought of her husband's terrified, grimacing face in the ice cluster, her eyes reddened, and she took a deep breath, tightly gripping her daughter's soft hand. Her voice trembled as she spoke: "Master… Master Vesemir."
"My husband, my child's father, is dead…"
"I'm willing to pay any price. Please, avenge us by killing the monster that killed Jamie!"
Before she could finish speaking, tears once again flowed from the woman's face, clenched in anger.
"Plop~ Plop~"
The tears hit the ground.
"Waaah—"
Seeing her mother cry, the little girl began to cry as well. The woman had to wipe her eyes again and bend down to comfort her. Even as she bent down, she didn't forget to force a smile of apology toward Vesemir, lowering herself to the dust. Yet, from her stiff expression and graceful posture, it was clear.
She had probably been well-protected by her family all her life. Perhaps this was the first time she had ever smiled in a submissive manner to a stranger.
Unfortunately...
Vesemir sighed inwardly and said with difficulty: "I'm sorry, madam."
The woman's face changed dramatically, and she grabbed Vesemir's armor, shouting: "Five thousand Orens, Master Vesemir. I'm willing to pay five thousand Orens."
"It's not about the money." Vesemir sighed again, patiently explaining:
"That group… The Wild Hunt flew east. Our destination is Ellander, so we're headed in the opposite direction."
"Moreover..."
"I've never faced creatures like the Wild Hunt. I don't know their habits or weaknesses..."
He paused, then shook his head: "I can't even imagine how we'd find those monsters flying in the sky..."
"So..."
"I'm sorry, I truly can't help."
Upon hearing this, the woman was filled with despair.
She wasn't the kind of person to cause a scene. Having been well-educated from a young age, she could tell that Vesemir was speaking the truth.
Vesemir sighed, glanced at Allen, the dwarf, and Ernesto, then turned and headed for the tavern.
The crowd of onlookers parted to let them pass.
Merchants, being a group that often encountered Witchers and were sometimes saved by them, didn't say much.
They simply lamented how unpredictable disasters could be, and how a family could be destroyed just like that. As Vesemir and the others walked out of the crowd...
"Thud~"
A heavy object hit the ground.
"Waaah—"
Amidst the girl's cries, the woman collapsed, fainting.
...
Ten minutes later.
In the end.
Vesemir couldn't stand idly by. To avoid gossip, he had the still-young Allen carry the unconscious woman back to the tavern. When they returned to the Blackbeard Tavern, Mary just so happened to walk out from the hall.
"Allen!"
Seeing Allen safe and sound, she smiled and ran over. But when Vesemir stepped aside, revealing the woman Allen was carrying in his arms, Mary immediately stopped, frowning.
"Who is she?"
Allen paused and said: "A poor soul..."
After a long while.
They handed the woman and her child over to the tavern's barmaid. Then, the group sat at a table. They exchanged glances. Even Ernesto, usually the most talkative, didn't know what to say.
When suffering becomes generalized, it's just numbers. But when it becomes specific, especially involving someone close by, it's much harder to bear.
"Is there really nothing we can do?"
Mary broke the silence. After learning of the woman's ordeal, Mary felt ashamed of her earlier thoughts.
Though the woman hadn't known about her fleeting judgment, Mary, driven by some complicated sense of guilt, now felt a strong urge to find a way to help. She wanted to kill the Wild Hunt, the very group that had almost killed Allen.
"Young lady, that's the Wild Hunt we're talking about. Do you even know what the Wild Hunt is?"
The dwarf, still unaware of Mary's identity, sat in his chair and cast a sidelong glance at her. Mary's cheeks puffed up in anger. Vesemir quickly nudged Blackbeard with his elbow and said loudly: "Don't talk nonsense!"
"Mary is the apprentice of Lady Vera, the Red Fox of Blood, an exceptionally gifted sorceress. Of course she knows!"
Sorceresses are not people to cross lightly. Holding grudges is in their nature.
Though Mary seemed calm now, what about in the future?
Blackbeard was a close friend, but Vesemir didn't want him to carelessly offend a highly talented sorceress.
Blackbeard hesitated.
He knew Vesemir meant well, but the dwarf's stubborn nature and pride made it difficult for him to apologize. Fortunately, someone changed the subject at that moment.
"Perhaps..."
"Regarding the Wild Hunt..."
"We aren't completely helpless…"
....…
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240. The Wild Hunt's Idea.
241. Family and Heroes?
242. Departure.
243. Don't Do That, Yennefer and Clay Are Still Here!
244. The Sword of Heroes, Balmur.
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