Toussaint.
On the banks of the Sansretour River, near the city of Beauclair.
"In order to buy time, after I dug the laboratory's location out of Tomas Moreau's mind, I could only take the chance before his consciousness collapsed to ask about the most memorable featu—"
"Allen, are you listening to me?"
The witcher snapped out of the sudden, primal tension of being watched by a predator.
"I'm listening, Lady Ida Emean."
"No, you're not." Ida Emean fixed her gaze on him. "You've learned the mental shield technique of the Heliotrop Sign, so I can't read your mind.
"But a master skilled in mental magic doesn't need the crude tool of mind-reading to know when someone's lying.
"The spiritual ripples radiating from you tell me you were distracted."
"…Alright, I was distracted," Allen admitted bluntly. "I felt something watching me, but around us—"
He glanced around.
Nearby there was only a clear lake, close to Beauclair's main city, and a few elderly folk strolling far apart, leisurely. Clearly, these old folks were not what had triggered his alertness.
Ida Emean frowned at his words, scanned the area with wary eyes, murmured a few incantations, and released a spell—yet still found no source for Allen's tension.
"Perhaps it's just an illusion."
Allen wasn't entirely sure himself; the sensation had been so brief, it was gone before he could even blink.
Ida Emean pondered for a moment and questioned him in detail about what he felt.
"It's not in Beauclair," she concluded. "It's likely that someone—or some power—who holds enough weight in fate has taken notice of you.
"Perhaps fate is warning you."
"Perhaps?" Allen's face tightened.
"Perhaps," Ida Emean nodded. "If someone with divination or prophetic talent, trained for years, were in your place, they would now be using all kinds of methods—pyromancy, hydromancy, entrails, crystal balls—to calculate the omen.
"If their prophetic gift was stronger, they might even see visions in their dreams tonight, connected to this very moment's unease.
"That's how most prophecies come to be.
"So you needn't worry. With your gift, the future of the School of the Wolf still comes to you in dreams—how would fate overlook changes to your own life?"
"Tonight, don't use your Wolf School meditation. Don't try to divine anything. Sleep naturally, and you'll surely see fate's warning."
Allen gave a sheepish smile.
She thought he was a born prophet, a genius of divination.
After all, in Kaer Morhen everyone knew he had foretold before the Trial of the Grasses that Haxor came with ill intent, and later had prophesied that Tomas Moreau was hiding the secret of a second mutation.
But in truth, what prophecy?
It was nothing more than the unintended reward of a past life obsessed with the Witcher's original works and games.
Well…
He did know how to do pyromancy and hydromancy, but right now he lacked the materials—and besides, the second mutation matter was far more urgent.
As for who might be keeping tabs on him, there was no need for prophecy or divination.
Allen ran the timeline in his head.
A week had passed. Redania probably knew the news even before he left Ellander.
That meant the omen of fate could only be tied to one of three powers: Ban Ard, Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, or the Rogrides family.
"You have suspects," Ida Emean said.
Allen nodded, then changed the subject: "Let's not talk about that. Lady Ida Emean, please continue."
Ida Emean inclined her head. "Because time was tight, I used… harsher methods. My knowledge of the laboratory is incomplete.
"There's a panther ritual guardian statue, gargoyles, and a teleportation portal array…
"These are likely the most dangerous traps and defenses, but there may be others. We can't take them lightly.
"Of course," she added, her gaze drifting to the crystal-clear Sansretour, "it is, after all, just a laboratory, not a tomb. It's hardly extremely dangerous. A bit of caution will suffice."
Allen nodded. Comparing this to the game plot he remembered, it matched exactly—at least in terms of traps and mechanisms, there shouldn't be any surprises.
However…
"Could I be the one to deal with the panther statues and the gargoyles?"
Allen spoke up. "In a while, I might need to infiltrate a mage's territory for something. I'd like to get some practice against the kinds of defenses sorcerers set up around their lands."
Before rescuing Hen Gedymdeith, the only real chance to obtain Elementa oil might be from Thomas Morey's laboratory.
Moreover, Ban Ard was the territory of sorcerers. During the rescue of Hen Gedymdeith, they would very likely encounter elementas, making Elementa oil extremely important.
If this wasn't mentioned beforehand, and the gargoyle ended up being taken down by Ida Emean, it would be quite a loss.
"A sorcerer's domain…" Ida Emean's interest was piqued.
"Mind telling me exactly where it is?" She tilted her head toward him. "I might be able to help you."
Allen thought for a moment and didn't hide the truth. After all, the hatred between the free elves and the sorcerers ran far deeper than that between the Wolf School and the sorcerers.
"Ban Ard?!" Ida Emean raised her eyebrows sharply upon hearing this.
She stared at Allen in surprise, as if seeing this fourteen-year-old witcher in an entirely new light.
"Does Vera know?"
"She does."
"And she agreed?"
Allen didn't answer. He looked at Ida Emean coldly and said in a deep voice: "I am a Wolf School master witcher who has completed the Trials of Choice, the Grasses, and the Mountain, and have hunted multiple large monsters on my own."
"I don't believe I need anyone's permission."
Ida Emean was taken aback for a moment, suddenly realizing that this boy — who was considered a child whether among the Aen Seidhe or humans — was not one of those pampered brats who achieved things only through their parents' influence.
All of his so-called miraculous feats had come from himself — earned blade by blade in battle.
The help Vera and Soyi had given him could not even offset the fact that they were the ones who sent him to Kaer Morhen to become a witcher. Now, it was their lives that depended on him.
Thus—
Ida Emean's expression grew solemn, and she said seriously, "My apologies. That was rude of me."
"You're forgiven," Allen said with a shake of his head, seeing how earnest she looked.
Ida Emean thought for a moment before continuing, "The gargoyle and the panther statue — you can have them."
"But both the gargoyle and the panther statue were created specifically to counter thieves and warriors. Their shells are made of hard stone, even metal. Even the strongest witcher would probably… hmm… what's that?"
Her words trailed off as she saw Allen take from the reagent pouch at his waist a bottle filled with a green, glowing liquid that looked like some sort of potion.
By habit, Ida Emean extended her mental senses toward it, but found she could not penetrate the glass shell to reach what was inside.
Instead, a biting chill crept up her spine, the kind one feels when facing a natural predator.
"This feeling… dimeritium?" Ida Emean instinctively leaned back.
"Dimeritium bomb," Allen explained. "Specifically prepared for elementas. It should be able to disrupt the enchantment structure inside them."
"You came up with the formula?" Ida Emean pressed her lips together and looked away. "It would work on sorcerers too, wouldn't it?"
Allen nodded. "Just finished preparing it — haven't had time to test it yet."
Ida Emean was silent for a long time.
"…I'm a little jealous of Vera," she murmured, letting out a faint sigh before changing the subject.
"Ban Ard was also built by repairing and expanding an ancient Aen Seidhe palace. When we get back, I'll look for the architectural plans — see if there are any hidden passages."
Allen froze for a moment, then said with surprise and delight, "That would be a great help, Lady Ida Emean."
"We're allies," she replied with a shake of her head. "Besides, Ban Ard is an enemy of the free elves as well."
Then—
Ida Emean went on to clearly describe the traits and general attack patterns of the panther statue and the gargoyle, even expanding into the commonalities and essence of all constructs.
High-tier constructs — like fire, ice, or earth elementals — were practically demi-gods and had extremely demanding environmental requirements.
Lower-tier ones, such as gargoyles, could only be found in sorcerers' laboratories or ancient tombs — entirely outside the Wolf School's usual work, and not even mentioned in Kaer Morhen's library.
Allen therefore listened intently.
Ida Emean was worthy of her reputation as a Seer and an elven sage — her explanations were clear, approachable, and cut straight to the heart of the matter.
If monsterology could be recorded in the Witcher's journal, every second of her lecture would have triggered a system notification for reduced skill unlock cost.
And after learning Allen intended to brave Ban Ard, the tone of the Aen Seidhe sage had grown much gentler.
A long while later—
When Ida Emean's lecture on elementas came to an end, the two did not move immediately.
She stood in silence for a few seconds, then turned to gaze at Beauclair, the royal city standing tall upon the mountains.
Allen followed her gaze.
Everything in Toussaint was beautiful — so beautiful that even describing it as a fairy-tale world felt inadequate.
Before arriving at Beauclair, it was hard to imagine any city that could match such stunning natural scenery.
Wouldn't a city built by intelligent beings mar and scar such beauty? But the moment one truly beheld Beauclair, all such doubts vanished.
Like most cities on the Continent, Beauclair had grown from an elven court — but it outshone every city and castle Allen had ever seen.
It was like a fairy-tale castle grown out of the mountains, and from afar it looked more like a floating city in the clouds.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ida Emean suddenly said.
Allen nodded.
Ida Emean's gaze grew distant.
"That was built at the height of the Aen Seidhe, using precious materials gathered from across the entire Northern Continent. The finest craftsmen of the Mountain Folk were brought together, and it took over two hundred years to complete. After that, it went through thousands more years of repair and refinement. Of course it's beautiful."
"When Beauclair's gates were breached, even the Mountain Folk couldn't bring themselves to destroy this castle. They held on to the hope that they could return someday."
"It's just a pity…"
"The last king of the Aen Seidhe has been dead for four hundred years. The last palace, Shaerrawedd, has been a ruin for over a century."
"The Mountain Folk… may never return."
The elves could, of course, come back at any time—just as Ida Emean had now—but Allen knew that "coming back" here didn't mean the same thing.
He didn't know what to say at a moment like this, so he simply stayed silent.
Fortunately, once Ida Emean had finished her lament, she decisively turned her gaze away.
"Let's go." She sounded relieved, but it was as though she had taken up a burden again.
-----------------------------------
The entrance to Tomas Moreau's laboratory wasn't far from the shore.
The Killer Whale potion had only just started working when they spotted the structure buried in the riverbed.
A tall arched doorway, slender pillars carved with patterns, and an orange hue blurred by silt—these matched the style of Beauclair along the Sansretour River perfectly.
"The Valley of Nine had once been part of Beauclair. It was where the Aen Seidhe commoners lived."
Ida Emean seemed to have tucked away her sentimental thoughts; her voice in Allen's mind was once again a light breeze.
"The Mountain Folk couldn't bear to part with the beauty of Beauclair Castle, but the Valley of Nine was never going to be left for invaders to live in."
"The human towns that connected to the castle were all built later by Toussaint's first human king, Ludovic, who hired architects skilled in the Mountain Folk style to redesign and rebuild them."
"Tomas Moreau was clever.
"He placed his laboratory in the Valley of Nine—unknown to anyone, yet close enough to Beauclair to conveniently buy and collect supplies for life and experiments."
"When it sank into the Sansretour, humans had not yet invaded, so the elven architecture inside was still intact. A few ventilation and structural stabilization arrays were enough to carry out experiments safely, saving much trouble… mm… here we are."
Unlike in Allen's memory—where a portal stood straight in the water—Ida Emean stopped at a seemingly ordinary wall on one side of a structure that looked like an arena.
Which made sense—if the portal stood in the water as in the game, the Sansretour would have long since flooded the laboratory.
Ida Emean carefully brushed away the mud, weeds, and other river plants clinging to the wall.
A few Drowners seemed to be disturbed and swam straight toward them from beyond the uneven riverbed.
Allen was about to draw his sword—but without even raising her head, Ida Emean gave a graceful flick of her left hand.
The dust she had brushed from the wall instantly gathered into several earthen spikes, which silently spread out and pierced the right eye of each Drowner.
They were plain earth spikes, the magical pulse so faint that even the wolf medallion didn't stir.
Allen raised an eyebrow at that.
He had already held a high opinion of a Sage's mastery of spells, but perhaps he had still underestimated her.
An earth spell with so little disturbance, cast almost instantly and with such precision—if used for an assassination, it could catch him off guard.
After a while, a griffin-shaped metal ring appeared on the wall.
Just as Allen was wondering why Tomas Moreau, who despised the Griffin School the most, would use a griffin as a door ring—
"Be ready," Ida Emean's voice warned in his mind. She tapped the griffin's right wing with her index finger.
Click—
With a sharp sound, a bolt of lightning sprang from her fingertip, piercing the griffin's chest.
.....
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