Bear School Astartes

”Mistress, lover, beloved...”

Veltrest’s face wore an expression as if he was truly immersed in the topic.

An adept king, showing the appropriate demeanor at the right venue and time, is a fundamental skill.

”One title can correspond to one beauty; we played even more extravagantly in our youth, didn’t we, old friend? I usually swap people for these three titles once a year, combining them. How about you?”

Vizimir casually smiled; at his age, he no longer needed to use such trivial matters to build intimacy with others.

”I’m old; back then, I only found a baron’s wife as a bed companion. After all, our customs back then weren’t as open as now.”

”But no matter what, I don’t think I can come down from any sorceress’s bed without any consequences. Yet this respectable gentleman... Ah, Airetusa surely has high expectations for him, doesn’t it?”

”A dean, a former dean, a distinguished alumnus... Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Vizimir smiled meaningfully, yet his expression resembled that of an elder lamenting the private lives of people today.

Veltrest also emitted a very official but practically content-less statement, as if he hadn’t understood anything.

”Warlocks have always been strong supporters of royalty, especially Airetusa. They pay taxes, nurture talent within Temeria. We’ve always cooperated well. Recruiting a demon hunter as the academy hunter must mean there’s indeed something needing assistance?)

After probing my personal relationship with Lann, he attempted to foster distrust between Airetusa Academy and the Temerian Kingdom.

Old fox, truly cunning.

He moves quickly and decisively; the moment Lann’s intelligence was gathered and placed before the kings, these political animals began competing for Lann’s information and relationships around him.

A person who could affect a large-scale battle; although these kings were unsure what actions to take, instinctively, they started to exclude each other.

By the time the two kings reached the spot where Terry and Lann disappeared, the gathered warlocks had already mostly figured things out.

Tishaya used magic to soothe the blind Yennefer and promised Airetusa’s techniques were entirely capable of giving her new eyes.

Viggo Fortez, looking pale and overused in magic power, still managed to come over and touch the land with his palm.

Such dedication and strength from this Great Mage couldn’t help but evoke admiration.

From his expression, it seemed he was ’reading’ something from the residual magic power.

As a witness, Furinjira Veges, having simply treated her wounds, was questioned repeatedly.

However, as a captive, her testimony wasn’t fully trusted.

”That’s about it... Magic power went rampant, first cut off partially by the demon hunter, then used partially by Merigold on a spell—I speculate it was teleportation.”

Viggo Fortez summarized impassively.

Though his eyes sparkled with interest when mentioning ’demon hunter cutting off magic power’, obviously more intrigued by that.

”Teleportation?” However, ’Tishaya’, famed for being composed, cold, and methodical, snapped like an explosive powder keg.

”Terry was scorched by uncontrollable magic flames for half a minute! You’re telling us she could perform teleportation under such conditions?”

Viggo Fortez shrugged, looking at ’Tishaya’; especially pausing briefly on her face.

This gaze instead made ’Tishaya’ nervously avert her eyes.

”I didn’t say Terry was fine; half a minute of burns likely means a significant area of skin was scorched beyond saving. But if it was a pre-prepared magical item or rune, only lacking energy infusion to activate, I imagine she could still manage.”

Viggo Fortez spoke with a trustworthy logical tone.

”The traces on the ground are of teleportation; at least that part can’t be faked.”

Just then, the soldiers encircling the outer region created a ruckus, making the warlocks and two kings frown.

Soon, an Order Officer delivered news of outer chaos, whispering the details to Vizimir.

The old king’s murky eyes lit up with brilliance: ”Let them in! No! Invite them in!”

Only after issuing the decree did the old king look apologetically at Veltrest and the other warlocks.

The King of Temeria’s expression noticeably darkened.

”We have a batch of contributors wanting to see the situation here, to demand an explanation. They have close ties with this esteemed demon hunter, and I believe they’re entitled to immediate reports.”

With the command, came the sound of hooves, mixed with light clanks and friction of armor in motion. Orderly yet murderous.

Almost instantly, the group present, momentarily relieved from wartime tension, was pulled back into that bloodthirsty atmosphere.

Their bodies tensed, eyes widened... psychologically and physically dragged into a state of war.

And those elite Personal Guards accompanying the kings, gripped their weapons instinctively, creating a synchronized creaking of leather gloves against steel hilts.

These elite Personal Guards were generally more resistant to stress reactions since they were accustomed to the battlefield’s atmosphere.

But now...

As the sound of hooves approached, a cavalry unit of merely sixty men arrived.

However, the atmosphere between them differed from that of the ordinary soldiers, even the King’s Guard.

This stark contrast even made it seem like this unit’s mood didn’t align with common soldiers, creating discord.

”Why does it feel like they didn’t win but are somewhat... grieved?”

A soldier muttered.

Hearing this, Veltrest couldn’t help but nod.

Fearsome grief.

Ordinary troops might merely feel dejected at worst in defeat.

The term ’grieved’ inherently conveys a sense of nobility, of being extraordinary.

Throughout any nation’s history, if a unit is described as ’grieved’, it often foreshadows monumental deeds.

And now, Lincoln and his peer brothers felt even beyond what ’grieved’ could describe.

Upon hearing about the ’demon hunter missing’, they nearly felt as if the sky had fallen!

Each believed if only they’d persisted a bit harder then, even at the cost of lives, following Lann in the assault would have prevented this incident.

Wouldn’t let who they admired disappear!

This seemed a disgrace for their laziness!

In this mindset, seeing their current state, no one felt comfortable standing before them.

As for the earlier commotion, Lincoln and his men hadn’t spoken a word; it was merely the pressure experienced by the Northern Alliance Army soldiers standing before them.

Unable to bear it, they resorted to speaking, shouting, purely to vent their tension.

Like a frightened toy poodle barking incessantly.

Lincoln led the way past the two kings, now wholly indifferent to any ’noble lineage’ besides Lann.

Lincoln walked right up to Furinjira, looking down at the captive female warlock from horseback.

”You were the sole enemy at the scene. If you had anything to do with our lord’s disappearance...”

Ignoring the tension from everyone around, Lincoln pressed the spear tip against Furinjira’s face.

The steel spearhead left a small dent on her beautiful, smooth face.

”This spear will pierce your throat, even if you’ve already been exchanged by the Niflgaard Empire and are in the royal palace of Golden Pagoda City, this promise won’t be retracted.”

”We swear by this, female warlock.”

Under Lincoln’s visor, his unwavering eyes made Furinjira’s throat involuntarily bob, her facial muscles twitching.

Only then did Lincoln slowly retract his spear, dismount.

”We are Sir Sintra, Lord Lann’s Personal Guard. Given Lord’s disappearance, I believe we have the right to know any clues.”

Glancing around, no one spoke.

”Good. Now, would His Majesties please disclose the situation?”

Though Lincoln used honorary titles like ’Majesty’, Veltrest and Vizimir felt none of the respect toward royal authority from these soldiers before them.