"Mm… Ailin, is it done?" Vesemir's voice was hesitant, as if unsure of what he had just witnessed.
Letho, still caught in shock, struggled to find his words. But hearing Vesemir's tone, he shot a sideways glance, thinking:
"You don't know either? How could you have acted so smug just now?"
Ailin, regaining his composure, replied, "Yes, I'm done."
Letho couldn't help but clap Vesemir on the shoulder, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement.
"Damned fool… What's with the mushroom soup? Were you distracted by some dirty book? You call that soup—letting the apprentice cut corners like that?"
Vesemir's gaze softened, his sense of camaraderie pushing him to offer a warning. "Watch your tongue. The one who made the mushroom soup was Lady Vera."
"Vera? Which Vera?" Letho asked, raising an eyebrow.
"The one from Toussaint. The Red Fox of Blood…" Vesemir's voice held a hint of reverence.
Letho froze, his jaw slack with disbelief. "No way... That Vera? The one from the Council? The leader's old acquaintance?" He was stunned, as if the ground had suddenly shifted beneath him. "The head finally realized the difficulty of running a school without a proper sorcerer, huh?"
Before Vesemir could respond, Letho leaned in, eager to probe further. "How the hell did he manage to recruit a female sorceress like her? Got any gossip?"
Vesemir only shook his head, a look of disapproval crossing his face. "I don't know. And, just so you're aware…"
Vesemir glanced over at Ailin, who seemed to be pretending he hadn't heard anything, and added, "Ailin is currently studying alchemy under Lady Vera. He sees her almost every day now."
Letho's expression darkened instantly.
He trusted that an apprentice wouldn't gossip unnecessarily, but sorceresses—they could read minds. If Vera happened to catch wind of what he had just said…
Letho's brain raced, his frown deepening with the realization.
"Vesemir, why didn't you warn me?" Letho snapped, genuinely frustrated.
"Are you sure I didn't?" Vesemir raised a brow, his expression that of someone who had done their best.
"Smack!" A resounding slap echoed as Letho brought his hand to his forehead.
"Fine, I'm not done yet," Letho muttered, a shadow of desperation creeping into his voice. "Tell me, what's her signature spell?"
Vesemir sighed, rubbing his temple. "Vera's famous spell is her Shapechanging—also known as the Leech Transformation. It's said that the leeches produced by a Witcher are highly valuable for medicinal purposes."
Letho blinked, the meaning sinking in. "Can I go beg the head for mercy?"
"If the head finds out what you just said, he might not be so inclined to help you..." Vesemir's tone was flat, as if resigned to the inevitable.
Letho's amber cat-like eyes flickered with unease as he paced back and forth, his mind working at full speed. After a long moment, he abruptly halted, a thought crossing his mind.
"What's wrong? Come up with a plan?" Vesemir asked, his voice laced with curiosity.
Letho scowled. "There are worse fates than death, and Vera… well, she excels at making them worse." He rolled his eyes and added, "I think I'll go hide for a while."
"You're not staying in Kaer Morhen for the winter?" Vesemir asked with a raised brow.
Letho scoffed. "What do you think? Let's get moving. Don't you have an apprentice to take out for some monster hunting or whatever?"
Vesemir gave a resigned sigh and, after a brief farewell to the other apprentices, motioned for Ailin to follow him as they left the castle.
...
"Do you really think Lady Vera is that cruel?" Ailin asked, voice tinged with uncertainty as they walked down the hill.
Vesemir chuckled, as if the question itself was foolish. "You have no idea. Blood Red..."
"Wait, Letho!" At the sound of Ailin's confusion, Letho couldn't resist explaining the term to the unknowing apprentice.
He was immediately cut off by Vesemir, who gave him a sharp look to silence him.
Letho flashed a brief apologetic smile, then fell silent, moving ahead of the others. Vesemir, still with his thoughtful air, turned to Ailin and spoke in a calm, explanatory tone:
"Letho lacks a filter sometimes. He didn't mean any offense, I assure you."
It seemed more like an apology directed at a possible female sorceress watching from afar than a true explanation for Ailin. Vesemir continued, clearly trying to soften the mood:
"Respect Lady Vera, Ailin. She's from an era even older than when my grandfather's father was born…"
Ailin's face twisted with confusion. He couldn't help but wonder how Vera would react if she knew what had been said. Would she punish Letho, or would she take offense at Vesemir's defense?
The master of the Witchers, after all, was a woman—a dangerous thing in a world where time and age were both cruel.
"Vera's methods can be… harsh at times," Vesemir continued, "But that was a time of chaos. In that world, everyone used whatever means they could to deal with their enemies, regardless of right or wrong."
He gave Ailin a pointed look. "From what I know, Lady Vera has never bullied the weak, so there's no need to fear her."
Ailin couldn't help but roll his eyes. So this was Vesemir's way of saying that Vera had a softer side? As if that was going to make him feel better.
"Shh, we've arrived."
Letho came to an abrupt stop at the front of the group, signaling for the others to be quiet.
"The first lesson in monster hunting: tracking," Vesemir said, his voice serious. He gestured downward. "Use your Witcher senses. Find the group of Waterhags."
[A new main quest has been unlocked: Tracking (Find the Waterhag group 0/1)]
The system chimed in, much to Ailin's growing irritation.
So, there's a task for this, huh?
Breathing deeply, Ailin calmed his racing thoughts. He looked down at the ground where autumn leaves scattered across the ground. The leaves were yellowed and dry, their shapes random and erratic.
At first, Ailin didn't notice anything unusual.
If Letho had pointed it out, Ailin might have thought he was mocking him. But not Vesemir—he was always serious about teaching. So, Ailin gathered his focus and began scanning the area from a different angle.
If both Vesemir and the system were convinced it was the Waterhag group, then starting with the Waterhag's traits was the best course of action.
Ailin turned to face the sun and positioned himself opposite its direction. Sure enough, there was a small area ahead that glistened in the light.
It was the glint of liquid—a sure sign of Waterhags.
"Not bad, Ailin. I didn't expect you to pick up the first clue so quickly," Vesemir said, a hint of approval in his voice. "Keep going. Find them, and then deal with them."
Ailin nodded seriously in response.
Crunch, crunch—
The dry autumn leaves crunched underfoot, making a soft, brittle sound with each step.
Ailin led the way, Vesemir observed from behind, and Letho trailed, distracted and disinterested.
The air grew cooler and more humid as they moved, and soon, a small stream appeared before them.
"Croak, croak," came the unmistakable croaking sound of the Waterhags.
Ailin knelt down carefully, focusing on the noise.
There were around eight of them, playing in the grass by the stream's edge.
"Identifying the strength of Waterhags is simple..." Vesemir whispered, his tone measured.
"By their size," Ailin finished, already seeing the answer.
"Exactly," Vesemir agreed. "These ones are much stronger than the ones you killed yesterday. They're not to be underestimated."
"It's not easy to find so many weak ones," Letho chimed in, his voice tinged with bitterness.
Vesemir ignored him, his focus entirely on Ailin. He asked in a casual, almost indifferent tone, "How many do you want?"
His voice was so light it was as if he were asking how many loaves of bread Ailin wanted for dinner.
Ailin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he focused his Witcher senses on the nearest and most formidable Waterhag, his eyes narrowing.
[Name: Waterhag]
[Level: LV6]
[Stats: Strength 13, Dexterity 11, Constitution 23, Perception 8, Mysticism 1]
At LV6, they were manageable—this was a level he could handle.
Ailin's eyes gleamed with excitement as