The portal opened at a location not far from the expedition's forward outpost.
Following the gray-white spire, the Wolf School witchers quickly found the road linking the outpost and Maribor.
It was a roughly widened temporary road. Perhaps because it had rained not long ago, it was extremely muddy. Donkey hoofprints and cart ruts pressed deep and shallow grooves into the ground, with murky, dirty water pooling in them.
The mountain wind blew past, carrying the smell of tar and animal dung, as well as the gradually sharpening din of noise and clamor.
A camp enclosed by crude wooden palisades was already visible in the distance.
"We should have brought our horses. It would've been faster,"
Clay complained bitterly after stepping into a large pile of dung mixed with bits of grass.
"Lady Vera needs the horses more," Vesemir said as he stood beside Sol, without turning back.
Although the Wolf School had gained quite a bit from the war, in reality it had also suffered no small amount of trouble.
When Philippa Eilhart tricked Kaedwen's deposed king Lado away, she had "borrowed" a large number of horses from Kaer village of the Wolf School—more accurately, most of them.
In order to get rid of those uninvited guests as soon as possible, the School could only grit its teeth and accept the loss.
During wartime, whether warhorses or pack animals, all were important strategic supplies, and it was extremely difficult for the Wolf School to replenish them.
Compared to Allen and the others, who only needed to follow the expeditionary army and had dedicated logistical support, Vera, Danthe, White, and Dylan—members of a rescue team that would have to traverse almost the entire Northern Continent—clearly needed horses far more.
After all, portals were not omnipotent.
No matter how many spatial coordinates Vera had, they could not withstand such a vast search area.
Fortunately, the suffering would only last for these few steps. Once they joined the expeditionary force, there was no way Tissaia de Vries would allow the Wolf School witchers to march on foot the entire way.
Of course, Allen and the others would not rely entirely on supplies from the Sorcerers' Brotherhood either.
The potions and emergency supplies required by witchers had already been prepared by Allen, Mary, and Vera over the past month and a half and stored in the cache.
"We're here for an expedition, kid," Valerius glanced sideways at Clay. "What do you think an expedition is? Fighting? Blood? Glory?"
"No!"
"It's endless muddy roads, sudden ambushes, screams and sacrifices all along the way—"
"It's monotonous, and people will die. A lot of people will die!"
"Stay alert!"
"Otherwise, you'll lose your life because of laziness and carelessness!"
Master Valerius's presence frightened Clay. He shrank his neck and shut his mouth.
Seeing this, Valerius glanced at the other young witchers who still seemed unclear about the situation and shook his head inwardly.
To be honest, Valerius did not agree with letting these young witchers take part in the expedition, even though Allen's miraculous techniques meant that their combat power would not become a burden in this campaign.
But the threats were not limited to the monsters of Dol Dhu Lokke. The expedition's allies were things even more troublesome than a Viy.
Those under-the-table dealings, those filthy compromises, conspiracies and plots—these were whirlpools that gave even witcher masters headaches.
The young witchers had not even undergone their Trial of the Path. They could only be considered a group of children who ought to be protected.
The battlefield of an expedition was not a place they should be.
They still needed experience.
Of course, Allen was an exception.
"Who are you?"
A guard at the camp entrance—wearing a padded coat embroidered with a shield-shaped emblem bearing a silver and red fleur-de-lis on a black field, likely borrowed by the Sorcerers' Brotherhood from the Prince of Maribor—called out upon seeing them, interrupting the Wolf School party's various thoughts.
"The Wolf School, answering the call," Sol said, pulling the ferocious wolf-head School medallion from his collar.
As soon as his words fell, before the guard at the gate could respond, the noisy surroundings suddenly fell silent. Countless gazes shot over from all directions.
Allen frowned slightly and followed those lines of sight.
Sorcerers—almost all of them. Whether walking along the road, chatting with others, or arranging matters, they all looked over in unison.
And every one of them wore an expression with a strange, meaningful undertone.
"Captain, I don't like the way they're looking at us,"
Klar stepped closer and whispered into Allen's ear.
Of course no one would like this feeling—this undisguised malice, this gaze reserved for outsiders—
Yet Sol, Vesemir, Valerius, and Gregor, several witcher masters, even Letho, all seemed long accustomed to it. They did not spare those hostile looks a glance, as if they did not exist at all.
Only the young witchers' eyes wavered—some avoided the stares uneasily, others glared straight back.
More of the latter.
"It's fine. Ignore them," Allen shook his head and said no more.
The perception of powerful sorcerers was no duller than that of witchers.
After hearing their identity, the guard's eyes suddenly lit up. His gaze swiftly passed over Sol and landed on Allen. He immediately straightened, saluted Allen, and said with undisguised excitement, "Sir Allen, welcome to Maribor!"
The guard's unusual reaction made Valerius and Gregor exchange looks.
They had heard of Allen's deeds in Ellander, but this was the first time they had truly witnessed it.
Ellander lay in northeastern Temeria, while Maribor was almost on Temeria's southern border—yet even here, Allen had admirers.
They realized they had greatly underestimated Allen's reputation in Temeria.
Sol did not feel offended by the guard's extremely inappropriate behavior—although he was now the Grandmaster of the Wolf School. Instead, he stepped aside by two positions, revealing Allen.
Allen withdrew his gaze, paused for a moment, then smiled. "Uh—thank you. May I ask where the Wolf School's quarters are?"
"Oh, oh—!" Hearing Allen speak to him, the young guard's face flushed red at once. Overexcited, he became incoherent.
"Between the devotees of the Goddess Melitele and the Griffin School," a more mature-looking guard not far away hurried over. He apologized to Sol, and after being waved off by the Wolf School Grandmaster, quickly ordered, "The Wolf School's quarters are on the east side of the camp. Clyde, take the masters there."
"Yes!" The young guard immediately acknowledged the order, pointed toward the interior of the outpost, bowed, and said, "Wolf School masters, please follow me."
The witchers followed the guard into the camp.
"How do you know Allen?" Valerius asked curiously as they walked.
"There's no one in Temeria who doesn't know Master Allen!" the guard's voice grew shrill, as if he had long prepared for this. He began to sing badly, off-key:"—Blue cat's eyes open and close, and Death answers the call—"
"—A fourteen-year-old knight of Ellander names his beloved silver-white longsword Elsa—"
A fourteen-year-old knight of Ellander named his beloved silver-white longsword Elsa?!!
Valerius, Gregor, and Letho froze for a moment at the sound, then simultaneously snapped their gazes toward Vesemir, whose aged face instantly turned bright red. Sol also cast him a strange look.
Hughes, Bond, and Fred were snickering.
Erni, Klar, and the other young witchers, unaware of the story behind it, looked at each other in confusion.
"Hughes, what are you laughing at?" the clueless Clay asked softly out of curiosity.
Hughes stiffened, feeling Vesemir's murderous glare. He turned his head away as if he hadn't seen anything, ignoring Clay's question.
"If Luka, Bishop, and the others knew I met the Guardian of Ellander, they'd be jealous to the point of madness!"
"Sir Allen, which sword on your back is Elsa?"
"People say you chose that name because of a woman—is that true?"
"What did the wraiths that attacked Ellander look like—"
The guard did not notice the odd atmosphere among the Wolf School witchers. After finishing his song, he eagerly fired off a barrage of questions.
But none of them actually required Allen to answer. One question followed another, leaving him no time to respond. It was merely an outlet for excitement.
Seeing Vesemir's expression growing increasingly off under everyone's gaze, Allen hurriedly changed the subject. "Right—earlier you said the Wolf School's quarters are next to the Griffin School's. Is Grandmaster Erland the one who came from the Griffin School?"
The guard paused. "Uh, none of the Griffin School have arrived yet. The Bear School hasn't either. Your Wolf School is the first witcher school to reach the outpost."
Hmm? The Bear School hasn't arrived either? Allen froze for a moment and looked toward Sol.
Sol frowned, shook his head thoughtfully.
The Bear School was the closest, and the Griffin School was the most punctual. Under normal circumstances, it would be impossible for them both to still not have arrived when the expedition's assembly time was already so near.
The Wolf School was late only because they had Vera's portal.
The other witcher schools would not fail to leave themselves any margin.
It seemed that, aside from the Wolf School, the losses suffered by both the Bear School and the Griffin School were far greater than they had imagined.
Which made sense—neither the Bear School nor the Griffin School had a "killer whale." With one escape route gone, and with trap strength comparable to the Wolf School's, their casualties were likely severe.
Moreover, at least the Griffin School still had a reputation that would make the culprits somewhat wary. The Bear School's standing on the Northern Continent was not much better than that of the Cat School. For nobles who accepted such commissions, there would likely be even less psychological burden.
Thinking of this, Allen suddenly felt more confident about the alliance surrounding the "Witcher Prohibition."
The only concern was this: if the two schools were still so late, could it be that because of the Rogrides family's traps, they would simply not come at all?
If the expedition ended up with only the Wolf School as the lone "outsider," that would be troublesome—
At that moment.
The guard's voice suddenly cut off.
A large group of figures blocked the witchers' path.
Then a young, gloomy voice rang out:
"May I ask if you are the Wolf School? I am Belendil Rogrides—"
"Belendil Rogrides of the Rogrides family—"
-----------------------------------
"Priestess Lysa, how is Faniel now?"
Tissaia de Vries stood by the bed, worry clearly visible on her face.
Lysa placed the final roll of herb-coated gauze over the horrifying wound and let out a long breath.
"She's fine. Lady Faniel didn't suffer damage to any vital points. It was shock caused by massive blood loss. After a few months of rest, she'll recover."
"That's good," Tissaia de Vries said, relaxing slightly, then asked hesitantly, "Then… about how long before she wakes up?"
"Well—" Lysa thought for a moment. "Lady Faniel lost so much blood she was nearly in shock. If she recovers naturally, it will take at least five or six days before she wakes up—"
At least five or six days.
Tissaia de Vries's expression immediately darkened. The expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke could not wait that long.
The expedition had already been difficult enough due to the tangled internal relations within the Sorcerers' Brotherhood and the hidden agendas of the various extraordinary factions.
Tissaia de Vries felt as if she were sitting on a volcano that could erupt at any moment.
If the departure date of the expedition were suddenly delayed, she did not even need to think to know that serious problems would arise.
But she also could not ignore such a massive anomaly at Dol Dhu Lokke and proceed with the expedition as if nothing had happened.
"Can it be sped up?" Tissaia de Vries asked.
Lysa's expression stalled. She turned to look at Tissaia de Vries, then glanced at the other sorceresses in the ward who had already awakened, and said softly, "If it's about Dol Dhu Lokke, aren't there other team members who surveyed the terrain?"
"I can use divine art to awaken Lady Faniel, but you should also know—"
"Divine art consumes the recipient's fundamental life force and shortens their lifespan," Tissaia de Vries continued. "Yes, I know. But the others suffered intense mental shock. They've forgotten much of their memories and their consciousness is unstable."
"At least when Faniel returned, she was still lucid."
"Lysa—"
Tissaia de Vries paused, her tone carrying a trace of pleading. "I know that unless there is no other choice, the Temple of Melitele is unwilling to use divine art on the wounded, and instead prefers secular medicine and herbal treatment—"
"But Dol Dhu Lokke has undergone a tremendous change. The expeditionary force needs Faniel's intelligence."
"If Faniel were conscious, she herself would definitely agree."
"And after she recovers, I will give her potions to restore the lifespan she lost—"
Lysa looked at Faniel on the bed, then at Tissaia de Vries's imploring expression, and felt deeply conflicted.
It was not that she was unwilling to give the headmistress of Aretuza this courtesy. It was that on the very first day of learning divine art, the temple had warned all priestesses: unless a wounded person's life was in immediate danger and divine art must be used to sustain it, divine art that takes faster effect must not be used under any circumstances.
As Priestess Nenneke, who taught divine art, had said: no one has the right to make a decision for another person that sacrifices their lifespan—do not become an accomplice to murder.
This was not merely a recommendation from the Academy of Melitele, but a prohibition—a ban with severe punishment measures.
"Tissaia, I—"
"Allen will also take part in the expedition," Tissaia de Vries suddenly interrupted, speaking abruptly and without preface. She then fixed her gaze on Lysa's eyes.
"The expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke will not be delayed. Without this intelligence, everyone will be placed in extreme danger."
Hearing this, Lysa fell into a long silence.
.......