"The heir of the Unicorn Dynasty, King of Ard Carraigh, Grand Duke of Ban Ard, the fallen sovereign of Kaedwen—"
"Lado."
The name had barely left Vilgefortz's lips when Allen, Mary, and Vera all froze. In unison, their eyes turned toward Sol, whose face remained utterly impassive.
Aristo pressed his right hand to his forehead and let out a soft sigh.
Tissaia de Vries, Vilgefortz, and Lydia van Bredevoort, too, let their gazes fall—intentionally or not—upon Sol. Clearly, everyone at the table was well aware of the tangled history between Sol and the Kaedwen royal line.
And for Lado, the current King of Kaedwen—even as a monarch in exile—to spurn the western strongholds, refuse aid from Redania or Temeria, and instead appear in a tiny village at the farthest reaches of the northwest…
He certainly hadn't come for leisure.
Sol sat in silence, eyes lowered to the crystalline goblet in his hand. He stared at the scarlet wine within as if searching its depths for answers.
"In the afternoon…"
Seeing that Sol would not speak, Tissaia de Vries smoothly picked up the thread, drawing everyone's attention back to her.
"Vilgefortz and I met at Pyralis. Not long after, we arrived at Kaer Village."
"There were many people in the village. With Kaedwen's turmoil, refugees had flocked to this settlement guarded by the School of the Wolf. So when we entered, it wasn't long before we spotted a witcher sent to keep order there."
"We intended to call him over, to ask that he deliver a message to you, but…"
"You saw Lado?" Vera cut in, glancing once more toward Sol.
Tissaia gave the faintest of nods, her eyes flicking toward Vilgefortz. "It was Vilgefortz who noticed something odd among the refugees—people whose behavior was neither that of true refugees, nor that of beaten, fleeing soldiers."
"He warned me."
"I did not know Lado," Vilgefortz said softly, setting down his glass. "Their disguises were meticulous—tattered clothes, filthy faces, hair greasy and matted… But for refugees, they were far too well-fed, and the positions some of them held were always the best spots to flee from if danger arose."
"At first, I thought only that they might become a source of unrest within Kaer Village, so I told Lady Tissaia."
"I had not expected her to recognize him."
Tissaia inclined her head. "Shortly after his succession, Lado sought an alliance with Aretuza. It failed, due to internal opposition within Kaedwen—but I saw him then. I remember his face."
"And he was not alone. Around him were several bodyguards, also disguised as refugees."
"Judging from the look of it, they had been hiding near Kaer Village for several days."
That was no good news.
Allen exchanged a worried look with Aristo.
He did not believe that King Demavend II of Aedirn would forgive the former Kaedwen monarch simply because the Wild Hunt had scattered his vanguard.
There had to be an elite force pursuing Lado.
If they clashed in Kaer Village…
The School of the Wolf could easily be dragged into a political and military maelstrom. One misstep, and they would earn the ire of both sides.
And if fighting truly broke out in Kaer Village—a village under the Wolf School's protection—then no matter how neutral the Wolves claimed to be, they would be forced to act.
A dangerous snare indeed.
Tissaia continued, "Vilgefortz and I cannot risk revealing ourselves. So we sought out the witcher master stationed in Kaer Village, Danthe. He recognized me, and agreed to bring us up the mountain."
"But after he escorted us into Kaer Morhen, he left again almost at once."
So it was Danthe… Allen thought.
That explained everything.
The Wolf School's rule against bringing outsiders up the mountain had long since softened—at least for their master witchers.
Back when Tissaia had helped them deal with Evenson of Drakenborg, Danthe had been present. It made sense he held her in some regard.
And since he did not know Vilgefortz, and given the urgency of the matter, bringing them to Kaer Morhen directly was perfectly reasonable.
"So Vesemir and Jerome…" Allen turned his gaze to Aristo.
"To avoid any mishap, Vesemir and Jerome were taken down the mountain by Danthe. They… we…" Aristo glanced at Sol, his tone faltering before he let out a sigh. "We didn't mean to hide it from you. It all just happened too suddenly…"
Allen couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
Calling it sudden was really just an excuse. In truth, Aristo, Vesemir, and Danthe had instinctively chosen not to let Sol know.
They knew well enough that the child of Henselt—the King of Kaedwen himself—had come to Kaer Morhen, likely seeking his help.
And after all, Sol had only just escaped death because of Henselt's demise.
Even if they tried, there was no way to keep this news from him.
"It's fine…" Sol suddenly raised a hand, cutting Aristo off.
Lifting his head, he looked squarely at Allen with a calm expression. "That's all in the past. You don't need to worry about my feelings."
"And regarding Lado—Sol, Vera, what are your thoughts?" Tissaia de Vries pressed further.
Sol and Vera exchanged a glance. After a brief silence, both turned toward the boy at their side. "Allen, what do you think?"
Why ask Allen…? Tissaia froze at those words.
Something was off.
Terribly off.
It was one thing for Sol to hold back his own opinion—but if he were to seek advice, should it not be from Aristo, a seasoned witcher master of the Wolf School? Not from a mere fourteen-year-old child?
Even if Allen was a witcher master, and even if Tissaia admitted his strength was extraordinary—this was not a matter of strength.
This was about experience.
And what experience could a boy locked in Kaer Morhen for thirteen years, barely one year into his wandering, possibly have?
What unsettled her even more was that Vera and Aristo showed not the slightest objection to Sol's choice.
And earlier, at the gate, Sol's words had already hinted at deferring to Allen's judgment—only now it was plain as day.
Tissaia's brows knit tightly together. She nearly lost her composure.
Her hand moved unconsciously to the lace at her sleeve, worrying it only into greater disorder.
Because of Allen's performance in driving out the Evil God, she had already raised her estimation of his standing in the Wolf School. But from the way Sol, Vera, and Aristo acted… she had still underestimated him. Grossly underestimated.
No—this was more than underestimation.
Sol, Vera, and Aristo behaved as if Allen had cast some spell of enthrallment upon them.
Were it not for Sol and Vera's identities, she might have begun to doubt Allen's very origins.
Vilgefortz, too, exchanged a subtle glance with Lydia van Bredevoort as they watched.
At just a single question from Sol, invisible currents seemed to stir beneath the oak table.
But Allen, oblivious to the shifting expressions, had his mind spinning furiously.
From the Wolf School's perspective, Lado was indeed a huge problem.
Sol might say the past was behind him—but who could say for certain? Perhaps even Sol himself did not know.
And Lado likely hadn't come alone. He might have Aedirnian hunters at his heels, and his purpose here could only be one thing: to seek aid and protection.
At present, though, Allen leaned more toward favoring Aedirn's hold over Kaedwen.
After all, because of the matter with the royal griffin, the Wolves already shared a tacit understanding with Aedirn.
Aedirn could easily have used that event to force the Wolves onto their side—or at least incite a storm of rumors to pit them openly against Kaedwen.
But they had not.
Not a single whisper had spread linking the griffin raid on Vengerberg to the Wolf School.
That could only mean one thing: King Demavend II himself had silenced it with sheer authority.
Because of that, both Allen and Vesemir had come to hold a certain respect for Demavend these past six months.
If Kaedwen were fully absorbed into Aedirn, the Wolves would likely enjoy a rare spell of stability.
But still—out of goodwill alone, they could not seize Lado and hand him over to Aedirn. Nor could they expel him outright.
Men were fickle things. Unreliable.
Henselt had been proof enough.
Once, he had admired Sol, obeying his every word—and later, he had turned on him with blade and treachery.
Besides, neutrality was a skin the Wolf School could not yet shed, not while the Northern Continent had not fully collapsed into chaos. At least not without securing something in return.
And, if one looked at it pragmatically…
Lado was far more tempting.
Alone, "helpless"—yet encrusted head to toe with "treasures."
He held a legitimate claim over all of Kaedwen, and through noble marriages, even had a considerable place in the lines of succession in Temeria, Redania, and Aedirn.
More importantly, it had always been the Kaedweni royal family who wronged the School of the Wolf—never the other way around.
After Lado took the throne, he had shown open hostility toward sorcerers, but never toward witchers—except, of course, those of the School of the Cat.
Wasn't it better to offer help in one's time of need, rather than adding flowers to a brocade?
If the School of the Wolf helped Lado regain Kaedwen, they could also slip into Kaedwen's political ecosystem, raising the standing of the School itself and guiding the strength of an entire kingdom…
"Allen?"
A sudden voice beside him—Vera's—pulled him from his thoughts.
Allen lifted his head.
Candlelight flickered over the long table, and everyone's eyes were fixed on him.
"This is no small matter," Tissaia de Vries spoke gently, her tone calm. "Since Lado has stayed in Kaer Morhen for days without revealing his identity to the School of the Wolf, that means he is hesitating too."
"You still have time. There's no need to rush this moment."
Allen nodded slightly. After exchanging a glance with Soy, he said, "In principle, the School of the Wolf is bound to uphold neutrality."
At that, Aristo's expression twisted oddly.
"However…" Allen suddenly shifted the subject, turning to the most powerful sorceress in the world. "Lady Tissaia, and Lord Vilgefortz…"
"Just call me Vilgefortz—or Vilge, if you prefer," the sorcerer, seemingly absorbed in savoring his wine, raised his head and gave a warm, intimate smile.
Allen ignored the offer. "What are your thoughts on this matter?"
Vilgefortz, unbothered by Allen's dismissiveness, kept the same curve on his lips. "I must admit, Lado—Kaedwen's rightful king, yet stripped of nearly all his army and noble support—is certainly a temptation for anyone with ambition."
"Unfortunately, for now," he glanced toward Lydia van Bredevoort, shrugging with refined grace, "we are not yet qualified to take a seat at that table."
"Aretuza has no interest in Lado, nor in his future," Tissaia answered bluntly. "I care only about how to rescue Hen Gedymdeith, and how to deal with those two lunatics—Sunny and Ortolan."
A very Tissaia-like response, Allen thought.
Of everyone at the table, only she had both the motive and the ability to use Lado's claims to secure maximum advantage for herself and Aretuza.
Yet she discarded it all, simply because of principle.
Still…
Allen raised a brow. "And what about Philippa?"
"If Aretuza has no interest in Lado, why is Philippa Eilhart not here?"
Tissaia remained silent for a long while.
"Philippa's actions… were not directed by me," she said at last, slowly. "Though I was once her mentor, we are no longer in such a relationship."
"Philippa has her own thoughts, her own ambition, her own designs…"
As expected… Allen sighed inwardly.
As expected, no matter the world, Philippa Eilhart was always that ambitious sorceress—seizing every opportunity to grasp at power.
"When she returns, I'll have a proper talk with her," Tissaia de Vries said, frowning. "But don't worry. Philippa knows her limits, and when it comes to the mission of rescuing Hen Gedymdeith, her abilities are absolutely reliable."
What else could Allen say to that?
Fortunately, it had been less than half a day. Most likely, Philippa was merely using her owl transformation to observe Lado.
But even if she truly did act against him, Allen—up here in Kaer Morhen—couldn't possibly fly down the mountain to stop her.
He could only nod, a silent acknowledgment of Tissaia's words.
"Before we discuss how to rescue Hen Gedymdeith, I have just one last question…"
Allen thought for a moment, then asked, "Just now, you explained why you came straight up the mountain to Kaer Morhen from Kaer Village. But you haven't said why you arrived a full day earlier than planned."
"That's no real issue, nor does it affect our plans," said Vilgefortz.
He set down his wineglass lightly and spoke in an offhand tone. "It was only late last night that I received new information: today would be the day when Ban Ard's supervision over spatial fluctuations is at its weakest. No one would check the coordinates on the other side of the portal afterward."
"So, I simply changed the time."
Their laxest day of spatial control… Allen's curiosity stirred. "Why? What makes today special for Ban Ard?"
"It's not a special day," Vilgefortz replied, his smile softening as Allen took the initiative to ask. "Today, Sunny conscripted all the troops gathered in Ban Ard, along with war beasts from Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization, and launched an assault deep into the Blue Mountains—against the Aen Seidhe…"
Before he could finish—
Crack!
A crystal wineglass suddenly shattered.
Scarlet liquid, like blood, splashed out, dripping and slowly spreading across the oak table.
...........
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