NOVEL SIMPLE 83. The Cold and Ruthless Leader.
"What to do with the bodies?" Allen was stunned for a moment when he heard the question and followed everyone's gaze, looking behind him.
The headless corpses of the Old Speartip and the drowner king were tangled together, lying about ten meters behind him.
The long table next to the headless corpses was in disarray. Many witchers had flushed faces, their gray burlap clothes soaked with wine stains, hiding in the corners of the hall. Obviously, the arrival of the drowner king and the Old Speartip had disrupted the witchers' banquet.
Allen instinctively glanced at the sorceress.
"Snap!"
A snap of the fingers.
Forty school emblems hummed simultaneously, like a swarm of bees suddenly taking flight in the hall. This time, Allen saw it clearly. Beneath the headless corpses of the monsters, it seemed like the starry sky was reflected, with a dark red light arc around the edge, and stars flickering in the darkness. In a moment, the bodies of the drowner king and the Old Speartip disappeared.
"I will keep them with me? Come to me when you need them."
A cool female voice rang out, drawing everyone's attention away from the magic. The sorceress smiled and nodded at Allen, ignoring the gazes of the other witchers.
Her indifferent attitude made everyone grumble internally, "If you're going to keep them, why did you bring them here in the first place?"
Allen also had this question in his mind, but with a turn of thought, he noticed that although many of the faces around him were unfamiliar, they all seemed to know him, with expressions of either envy, admiration, or jealousy. He realized the sorceress's intention.
Most of the witchers returning for the winter were back by now. Along with the seven witcher masters and the leader, most of the witchers of the Wolf School were present. The shock brought by the bodies of the Old Speartip and the drowner king would deeply imprint this scene in their minds.
Unlike the doubtful respect and belief from hearsay, this kind of shock would provide power and support for Allen's every decision in future interactions with these witchers.
"Lady Vera wants to quickly raise my prestige in the Wolf School," Allen felt a warmth in his heart.
As expected of Lady Vera, already paving the way for him at this time.
What does a responsible investor look like?
This is it.
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With the Old Speartip and the drowner king gone, the relentless revelry began.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
A large bag of charcoal was poured into the bonfire, followed by an Igni sign.
In an instant, scorching flames soared up. Then, two witchers placed a freshly processed wild boar on the bonfire. Grease dripped onto the glowing charcoal with a sizzling sound. The atmosphere in the hall grew more heated as the temperature rose.
At the long table in the main hall, more than forty witchers sat on either side, with Allen and the others sitting on either side of the leader. As the leader stood up with his cup, the witchers also stood up from their seats.
"The new blood has arrived. Witchers of the Wolf School, let us raise our cups and celebrate!"
"Aye! Aye! Aye!"
The witchers yelled wildly.
The clinking of cups against the wooden table made a booming sound. Golden wine splashed onto the table, filling the hall with a fragrant aroma. Even before drinking the wine, the atmosphere was already intoxicating.
In the revelry of the banquet, besides the fine wine, Allen was undoubtedly the main focus.
"Allen, Allen, tell us how you killed those two monsters."
"Yeah, tell us."
After two cups of wine, Allen became more talkative.
"... The Old Speartip, with its huge body, fell straight down from above, casting a massive shadow that enveloped me entirely. For a moment, it felt like the sky had darkened..."
He paused, cleared his throat, and raised his cup, taking a good gulp of the fruit wine. A spicy taste on the tip of his tongue, first bitter then sweet, with a rich fruity aroma instantly refreshing his mind.
"Keep going, Allen, what happened next?"
The story cut off, leaving the witchers in the hall restless and urging him to continue.
After finishing his drink, Allen smacked his lips and continued: "... Then I dodged into a crevice in the rock. The Old Speartip's massive foot stomped down, sending rocks flying. At the closest moment, I could clearly see the long, thick hair on its leg..."
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Allen's embellished story of the "battle with the Old Speartip and Drowner King , with the witcher apprentice reaping the rewards," was thrilling and legendary.
From luring away the Old Speartip, miraculously encountering a conjunction of the spheres, to using the Ice Spear Magic to maintain the balance of power between the monsters and finally taking their heads.
The witchers at the long table were mesmerized.
Hughes, Bond, and Fred had expressions of admiration, showing no resentment at having their moment overshadowed. Instead, they constantly chimed in, providing plenty of emotional support. While Allen was spinning his tale, the leader quietly left his seat and walked to the corner of the hall.
The sorceress was leaning in the darkness, holding a crystal cup in her right hand, slowly swirling the red liquid inside, gazing out at the long table. The leader followed her gaze.
Allen, with a flushed face and a vibrant expression, was full of confidence.
"Why not join the celebration?" the leader smiled and asked.
She lazily shook her head, took a small sip of her wine, and said nothing. The leader hesitated for a moment, then nonchalantly sidled up to the sorceress. She glanced at him but did not move. Encouraged, the leader took a few steps closer and leaned against the wall in the same manner.
"Vera, just as the prophecy said, the child of miracles has leapt over the grave of death."
"Mm."
"Vera, reality has proven that our initial choice was correct."
"Mm."
"Vera... Vi, can we start over?"
The sorceress stopped swirling her wine at these words. She gazed deeply at the leader, making him so uneasy that even his smile became awkward. Then, she suddenly laughed.
The sudden smile made the leader's heart leap, thinking she was about to agree to reconcile. But to his surprise, after a moment, she turned back to the table and, in a rough voice, mimicked: "You can consider us witchers to be cold and ruthless after the Trial of the Grasses..."
She paused for a moment, then continued: "So, you, Sol, having been made cold and ruthless by the Trial of the Grasses, how can we start over?"
The leader's smile suddenly froze, and he shook his head helplessly, thinking: "Vera is still the same, holding grudges."
"Yes, I do hold grudges," the sorceress nodded, not hiding her mind-reading ability.
The leader wasn't angry but rather delighted. As long as she was willing to joke with him, there was hope for everything. So, while casually chatting with the sorceress, he also listened in on Allen's repeated tales of battling the Old Speartip and the drowner king, under the flattery of the witchers.
"By the way, Sol."
The sorceress's serious voice suddenly came from beside him.
"What's up, Vi?"
The leader immediately perked up.
"When do you plan to inform Allen and the others about the dueling tournament between the apprentices of the Wolf and Cat Schools?"
...….
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84. Is Allen Going to Get the Axe?
85. You're Not Even as Good as Letho!
86. Beyond Your Imagination.
87. Opening the Box.
88. Darkness is watching you.