"Those really are by Borhn Drummond!"
Hughes, Bond, Fred, and the other young witchers still looked completely bewildered, while Sol, Valerius, and Gregor had already stepped forward briskly to examine the two oil paintings.
It didn't take long.
"It's Borhn Drummond's handwriting," Sol confirmed.
Valerius's and Gregor's expressions immediately changed.
They looked at Allen, faces full of shock and confusion. "Allen, when did you get to know Borhn Drummond? You even had him paint two paintings for you?"
"Who is this Borhn Drummond you're talking about?" Allen couldn't help asking. "Is he the Borhn Drummond from the Chapter of the Gift and the Art that I know?"
"Of course!" Vesemir nodded. "The very same—Borhn Drummond, the Mage Council member who lives in seclusion in the Dragon Mountains."
Hearing this, Allen shook his head. "Then I don't know him. I've never even met him—only heard of him."
"Then what's so special about just two paintings?"
What he meant wasn't that the two paintings lacked value.
On the contrary, no matter what was depicted in them, or how exquisite the technique and artistry were, as long as they bore the name Borhn Drummond, these two paintings held extraordinary significance for the School of the Wolf.
Not to mention that they must have taken a long time to complete, which only further increased their value.
Especially at the present moment, when the School of the Wolf had successively offended quite a few supernatural factions, nobles, and even Redania.
This was a form of political endorsement.
It meant that in the possible future political pressure—whether from secular or supernatural forces—Borhn Drummond would stand on the side of the School of the Wolf.
If one also counted Tissaia de Vries, who was already friendly toward witchers, and Hen Gedymdeith, who had been saved by Allen and Vilgefortz and whose awakening was still unknown, then among the five seats supporting the School of the Wolf within the Chapter of the Gift and the Art (the Mage Council, the Supreme Council), three were already secured.
This meant that even if, after the expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke and the rescue of Ortolan, Ortolan turned hostile and colluded with Nacius de la Roche of Novigrad to try to sanction the School of the Wolf, the Sorcerers' Brotherhood would definitely veto such an action.
Although this wouldn't last forever, at least for the several years after the School of the Wolf received these two paintings, this political alignment would remain.
And considering that Borhn Drummond lived in long-term seclusion and rarely participated in the concrete affairs of the Sorcerers' Brotherhood, this period could be extended quite significantly.
To put it more plainly and practically—
If the School of the Wolf had received these two paintings before the expedition, they wouldn't have needed to care at all about the tangled connections of the Rogrides family. They could have directly asked Tissaia de Vries to impose sanctions, and the Sorcerers' Brotherhood would have passed it outright.
Of course, relying entirely on Tissaia de Vries or the Sorcerers' Brotherhood for revenge would not have achieved the effect of warning others by punishing one example.
That aside, the reason Allen was surprised by the witcher masters' reaction was not because Borhn Drummond's paintings lacked value.
Rather, it was because he understood Sol, Vesemir, Valerius, and Gregor.
They were pure witchers—without this kind of political sensitivity.
Their shock and astonishment could only be because of the paintings themselves, not because of the far-reaching influence they carried.
"Come a bit closer. Take a careful look at this painting," Vesemir said without answering directly, deliberately keeping some suspense.
Allen glanced at Sol, Valerius, and Gregor. Seeing that none of them intended to answer, he shrugged and walked to Vesemir's side, leaning in close to the oil painting depicting the defense of Ellander.
Borhn Drummond's aristocratic cursive signature flowed smoothly, hidden in the lower-right corner amid the ghostly green lights of the wraith tide.
"Hmm—"
As the distance closed, the wolf medallion on Allen's chest began to hum softly.
"This is a magical item?" Allen shifted his gaze away from the signature and turned to Vesemir.
Vesemir smiled. "It is a magical item, yes—but take another look."
Another look—Allen froze for a moment, then returned his gaze to the painting.
Because of the thick layers of paint piled one atop another, oil paintings usually look more realistic from afar, while appearing rough and crude up close.
For example, a ring seen in the painting from a distance might turn out to be nothing more than a simple stroke with no detail when viewed closely.
And the layered buildup of paint often makes the surface of an oil painting uneven.
So for simple appreciation, a layman like Allen preferred viewing them from afar.
But now he suddenly realized that although the painting before him was undoubtedly an oil painting—with oil-paint brushstrokes, pigments, and texture—the closer he got, the more real it became instead of blurring.
The face illuminated by the ghostly green lights of the wraith tide, facing it head-on, looked as if it had come alive.
Moreover, the buildup of pigment hadn't made the canvas uneven at all—it was eerily smooth, like a polished mirror.
Some details that had been overlooked from afar now revealed themselves.
"Eh!"
Allen suddenly exclaimed in surprise, taking two quick steps closer to examine it, then hurriedly ran to the other painting.
"See something?" Vesemir chuckled.
Allen said uncertainly, "This—these two paintings are very similar to what I experienced back then—"
The oil paintings depicted exactly Allen's two legendary battles, so of course they would look similar.
But what Allen truly meant went beyond mere resemblance.
As his attributes had increased, Allen's memory had grown sharper as well. For major events from several months ago, as long as he recalled them, even if he couldn't reproduce them with absolute precision, there would be no errors.
And now—
He realized that these two paintings were almost exactly identical to what he had experienced, especially the oil painting of hunting the evil god—
The distance between him and the summoning ritual, the wildly unrestrained Balmur longsword, the angle of his swing, the cold gaze of Monster Hunt—
Allen had originally thought that these two oil paintings were based on Tissaia de Vries's narration, then imagined and painted by Borhn Drummond.
But now—
Every single detail was flawless.
This painting couldn't even be compared to a photograph from a previous life—it directly engraved that moment, that instant, into a mere oil painting.
"Very few people know this now, but aside from nicknames like 'the Recluse of the Dragon Mountains' and 'the Man Out of His Time,' Borhn Drummond was once also called the Painter of Fate," Vesemir laughed loudly. "So you're right—these two paintings weren't painted at all. It's said that Borhn Drummond seized these scenes directly from the long river of fate."
Oil paintings seized from the river of fate?!
Allen asked incredulously, "How is that even possible?"
He had encountered no small number of sorcerers. The weakest were the Ban Ard male mages in the Passolorn Forest who were slaughtered by the Wild Hunt's fire sorcerer with fireballs. The strong included Tissaia de Vries, Hen Gedymdeith, and Ortolan—and he had even personally faced Vilgefortz, whose talent was exceptional and who was still in his growth phase.
But the methods of sorcerers were nothing more than fireballs, ice spikes, earth spikes, lightning—or simply bigger fireballs, ice spikes, earth spikes, and lightning. They were miraculous at first sight, but not incomprehensible.
Vilgefortz's magical source talent merely enhanced casting strength, casting speed, and produced a kind of telekinetic energy burst.
But Borhn Drummond's method of directly extracting oil paintings from the river of fate was something Allen truly couldn't understand—it was practically a divine miracle.
"No one knows," Vesemir shrugged. "Borhn Drummond has never explained it. He's never taken on any sorcerer apprentices either. He's the most mysterious legendary mage of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, so no one knows what kind of method this is."
"If you're really curious, you can ask Lady Tissaia. Or after you return, you can ask Lady Vera—"
Allen nodded thoughtfully, then glanced again at the painting before him. With a shift of intent, he cast an appraisal.
[Name: Scroll of Fate "God-Slayer"
Type: Magical Item / Fate Item / Ritual Item
Functions:
1. Phantasm: Materializes the scene within the oil painting into reality in the form of an illusion. Reveal-invisibility / dispel-illusion effects below the tier of Veteran-tier spells cannot see through it. The illusion adapts to the current terrain. Duration: 10 minutes. Cooldown: one week.
2. Summon Troops: Summons the fate projections contained within the scroll. The stamina and magic consumed scale proportionally with the number of fate projections summoned.
3. Manifest Reality: Completely destroys the scroll to fully summon everything within the Scroll of Fate for a short time. Duration: 10 minutes.
Note: Let me tell you a little secret: during Manifest Reality, any beings within the Scroll of Fate that are still alive in reality will sense the Scroll of Fate. So if I were you, I wouldn't casually use Manifest Reality.]
[Name: Scroll of Fate "City Defense"
Type: Magical Item / Fate Item / Ritual Item
Functions:
1. Phantasm: ——
2. Summon Troops and Build City: Summons fate projections within the scroll (including artificial structures). The existence strength of fate projections is reduced by 50%. The stamina and magic consumed scale proportionally with the number of fate projections summoned.
3. Manifest Reality: Completely destroys the scroll, summoning the Scroll of Fate itself from the river of fate. Duration: 10 minutes.
Note: Let me tell you another little secret: the troops and city summoned by Summon Troops and Build City are physical entities—so one person alone can be an entire city.]
Looking at the two semi-transparent panels before him, even the well-traveled Allen was stunned.
These two oil paintings really were the Scrolls of Fate Vesemir had spoken of—and there was no need for "it is said." Judging from the description of Manifest Reality, it was highly likely that Borhn Drummond had indeed used some method to "fish" these scenes out of the river of fate.
And moreover—
"Fate item, ritual item…" Allen pondered the classification of the Scrolls of Fate in his mind, sensing that there seemed to be some great secret hidden within.
Borhn Drummond, the lowest-profile and least noticeable legendary mage of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art on the Northern Continent, had always been, in Allen's impression, nothing more than a lazy, hands-off hermit sorcerer.
At the end of the day, he was still just a sorcerer. And since whenever he was mentioned, he was basically listed last among the five members of the Chapter of the Gift and the Art, Allen had always thought that Borhn Drummond was the weakest of the five.
But now—
Borhn Drummond's background seemed rather complicated.
Returning to the Scrolls of Fate themselves, the functions of the two scrolls were largely similar. In fact, they somewhat resembled the Land of a Thousand Fables from The Witcher 3, the book Fringilla Vigo's uncle, Artorius Vigo, had given to the young Sylvia and her sister.
Inside that book lived creatures from various fairy tales and legends, and they were not purely illusions—they could harm those who entered.
But in reality, the difference was worlds apart.
The Land of a Thousand Fables required the user to enter the magical domain within the book, whereas the Scrolls of Fate directly summoned their contents into reality, allowing them to affect the outside world.
Especially the "Summon Troops and Build City" function of the Scroll of Fate "City Defense". It could not only summon the fate projections of people within the painting, but even artificial structures.
In other words—could the walls of Ellander from the "painting" be summoned directly into reality?
Allen wasn't entirely sure. But if that were truly the case, then this Scroll of Fate might be extremely useful for the upcoming expedition.
As for the Scroll of Fate "God-Slayer"—
"'Beings within the Scroll of Fate that are still alive in reality will sense the Scroll of Fate'… does that mean that after using Manifest Reality, that big-eyed evil god would sense me and descend again?"
Thinking of the Hymn to Pure Wisdom he had obtained from the evil god's chest—worth the equivalent of two hundred thousand experience points, two hundred experience orbs—Allen couldn't help feeling a little tempted.
"Allen, you still don't know what Borhn Drummond's oil paintings are used for, do you—" Valerius suddenly slung an arm around Allen's shoulder, interrupting his thoughts.
Allen didn't show that he already knew. He dismissed the panels and asked curiously, "What are they used for?"
Valerius then patiently explained the functions of the "Scrolls of Fate" one by one, with Vesemir, Gregor, and Letho adding details from the side.
But even after they finished, they never mentioned the "build city" part of Summon Troops and Build City, nor Manifest Reality, which required destroying the Scroll of Fate.
Allen didn't ask about it, merely noting it down for the time being.
In the meantime, most of the younger witchers followed the sorceress Maeve to put away their scant luggage.
Clay and Ice felt bored and wandered over to Sol's dragon-slaying oil painting, only to discover that it bore no signature from Borhn Drummond—it was just an ordinary oil painting.
Vesemir, Valerius, and Gregor felt that these two paintings were likely compensation given to Allen by Tissaia de Vries. After all, everyone knew that in this expedition, the vanished Ban Ard was one vortex, and Allen was another.
After the topic of the Scrolls of Fate cooled down, just as the witcher masters were about to discuss the hostility coming from Rogrides and Redania—
"Hm hm hm~"
The wolf medallion hummed.
A magical message flew in through the window.
"The School of Griffin has arrived."
After receiving the message, the Aretuza sorceress Maeve prepared to take her leave to greet them.
"We should go too—" Allen thought for a moment and suggested.
The witcher masters of the School of the Wolf all agreed.
The expedition to Dol Dhu Lokke was dangerous. The School of Griffin was a more trustworthy ally than Aretuza itself, and there was also the matter of the "Witcher Prohibition" targeting those forces that had framed witchers, which needed to be discussed.
However, once the witcher masters had all stepped out of the stone house, they realized that Sol hadn't followed. And it seemed that ever since entering the camp and seeing Allen's two oil paintings, he hadn't spoken much, nor had he participated in the discussion about the Scrolls of Fate.
Welcoming the School of Griffin could hardly be done without the grandmaster of the School of the Wolf.
"I'll go call him—"
Vesemir, who was at the back of the group, turned back into the house and found Sol staring at the God-Slayer Scroll of Fate, completely absorbed, standing motionless.
Affected by some indescribable atmosphere, Vesemir lowered his voice a little. "Grandmaster, the people from the School of Griffin have arrived. We're planning to go to the gate to welcome them."
"Hm? Go welcome the School of Griffin—alright, I'll go now—" Sol came back to himself and started toward the door. But after only a few steps, he suddenly asked, without any context, "It must have been very dangerous back then, right?"
Vesemir froze for a moment before realizing that Sol was referring to the God-Slayer painting.
"It's all in the past now." Sensing that Sol's emotions were a bit off, Vesemir brushed it off vaguely.
Sol nodded and didn't pursue the matter. He only turned back to look once more at the two paintings, sighed regretfully, and then left the stone house with clear reluctance.
To him, those two paintings were not paintings, nor were they precious magical items—
They were the life of Allen that he had missed.
......