Allen had no reason to refuse Vilgefortz's self-recommendation.
Since the binding contract ensured there was no need to fear any sudden schemes or betrayal from Vilgefortz, having another sorcerer — especially one with a magic source — would only increase their chances of success when rescuing Hen Gedymdeith.
The reason Allen had returned to Kaer Morhen without inviting Philippa Eilhart was that Philippa had now completely immersed herself in her own political ambitions.
Even Tissaia de Vries could no longer rein in Philippa Eilhart — her once-proud apprentice.
Could Allen really expect Philippa to devote herself wholeheartedly to Tissaia's naïve ideals, which had nothing to do with her?
He never liked being a lone wolf, but fate often left him with no other choice.
Therefore —
Though curious as to why Vilgefortz wanted to involve himself so deeply, Allen didn't pry further. He simply agreed.
Stepping out of the grove, he saw that half the sky was still studded with stars and the moon, while dawn had already begun to break on the other side.
The horizon glowed with soft light, bursting forth like flames, layer after layer igniting the clouds.
The sharp spires of distant towers reflected brilliant gold, standing like solemn spearmen guarding a sleeping city against the depths of night.
"Our luck's actually quite good," Vilgefortz said, squinting slightly as he admired the sky for a few seconds before pointing in one direction and leading Allen onward.
"A little earlier, and the mages on duty would still be at their most vigilant. But if we were any later, the next shift would already be arriving, and the whole of Ban Ard would soon be awake."
"The time when apprentices attend their regular lessons — that's when Ban Ard's defenses are at their tightest."
"They still hold regular classes in Ban Ard now?" Allen asked, surprised.
Between the suppression of the Hill Folks, the declaration of independence, and the founding of a 'Sorcerer Kingdom,' he had assumed the entire academy was under military rule.
Vilgefortz noticed his thoughts and nodded.
"Ban Ard is still, in name, an academy for mages. The sorcerers here — especially the older ones — aren't all obsessed with power."
"Sunny needs to maintain a sense of order, and compared to before, keeping the environment familiar helps him win over those neutral sorcerers."
"Besides, most apprentices studying here have powerful backgrounds — merchants, nobles… all people Sunny wants on his side."
"Of course," he added, "these aren't the decisive factors."
"Especially after news came that the Wild Hunt effortlessly annihilated a large Aedirnian force invading Kaedwen — Sunny began considering reorganizing the apprentices by talent and specialty. He planned to teach them only practical magic, alchemy, and rituals that could be used on the battlefield — turning them into small, militarized units."
"For example, those gifted in water magic wouldn't waste time studying elemental theory, magical phase transitions, or structural variation — they'd only learn Karis's Hailstorm, Dolmon's Fog Spell, and Purification.
Those skilled in alchemy would be trained to brew Blood Recovery Potions..."
"Then why didn't he go through with it?" Allen asked curiously.
Vilgefortz's lips curved into a faint smile. "Because of Ortolan…"
"Ortolan?" Allen blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected it to be the leader of Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization.
"Yes, Ortolan," Vilgefortz chuckled. "That legendary sorcerer rather enjoys the academic atmosphere here — he even takes time every week to lecture the apprentices himself."
"Ortolan is Sunny's true pillar of support. Naturally, Sunny wouldn't dare offend him — not even for the sake of a future war against the Wild Hunt."
Allen nodded silently.
Factional strife between Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization and Ban Ard was inevitable.
He just hadn't expected the split between Ortolan and Sunny to appear so soon.
To be honest, Ortolan — as one of the most powerful sorcerers on the Northern Continent — should have known that a divided power structure couldn't endure for long.
He should have either completely subdued Sunny or, at the very least, maintained his image as a magnanimous ally — giving the future "King of the Sorcerer Kingdom" some semblance of dignity.
But now, with even peripheral mages like Vilgefortz aware of the tension, Sunny's prestige had clearly plummeted — and the rift between Ban Ard and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization was bound to deepen.
Thus —
With the Northern Continent's factions reaching compromise, the founding of a Sorcerer Kingdom might not be difficult.
But the greater problem lay beyond its establishment — in the distribution of power afterward.
Perhaps even without interference from outside forces, the male sorcerers would soon destroy their new kingdom through endless infighting.
Of course, that was still far ahead in the future.
Their current mission was simple: to rescue Hen Gedymdeith. Through his link with Tissaia de Vries, they aimed to prevent the Sorcerer Kingdom from being successfully established under Sunny and Ortolan's control.
Lost in thought, Allen followed Vilgefortz forward.
Vilgefortz was right — the farther they moved from the grove near Ban Ard's gate and deeper into the academy, the fewer people they encountered.
Most of those crowding the entrance earlier were there just to queue in front of Ban Ard's main hall — the newly built city's lord's hall and administrative center — so they had arrived early.
After walking through three narrow paths, turning three corners, and crossing what looked like a magical training square, not a single person was left around them.
Even the noise of the outside world could no longer reach here.
The quietness gave the academy an aura of true mysticism.
While leading carefully, Vilgefortz acted like a practiced guide, introducing the various buildings they passed.
He explained everything in detail, but the more Allen listened, the more his brows furrowed.
"What's wrong, Allen?"
Vilgefortz noticed his reaction, frowned slightly, and looked around warily before asking.
Allen instead asked, "Where exactly is Hen Gedymdeith being held by Sunny?"
"In fact, we've already arrived." Vilgefortz shrugged and led him around a dark green tower — and suddenly, the view opened up before them.
In the center of a vast square stood a colossal structure like a mountain. Even the morning sun couldn't climb past it, casting a heavy shadow that blanketed the entire square.
Scaffolding surrounded the entire building, rising higher than Ban Ard's outer walls, making it look more like a gigantic prison cage.
Dark silhouettes moved back and forth across the scaffolds — perhaps working on repairs, but more likely on patrol.
"When I was searching for Hen Gedymdeith, I ran into quite a lot of trouble," Vilgefortz said softly.
"Sunny hid his teacher very deeply, and very tightly."
"I'd only just arrived in Ban Ard at the time — you know I'm not originally from here — I hadn't even familiarized myself with the academy's layout yet."
"It took me a long time to befriend a few of Sunny's radicals. Even among them, almost none knew where the place was. And those who did would shut their mouths immediately, growing alert the moment it was mentioned…"
Hiding in the dark shadow of the green tower, Vilgefortz spoke quietly while studying the silhouettes moving over the scaffolding.
"How did you find it, then?" Allen asked, his eyes filled with a complicated light as he gazed at the massive structure ahead.
Vilgefortz, facing away, didn't notice the witcher's expression. He chuckled lightly and continued: "It was because Ortolan arrived — and brought funding from Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization."
"In just a few months, the ruins of Ban Ard City were miraculously rebuilt. Most other places within the academy were repaired swiftly too, but this particular area… it's been under reconstruction all this time, and yet, nothing ever seems to be finished."
"Of course, the rest of the academy didn't suffer heavy damage during the Wild Hunt's assault — magical barriers and the open layout spared them. A few filled craters, a few transplanted trees, and they were fine."
"But the delay here was too suspicious for anyone observant."
"After some investigation, I learned this place wasn't damaged by the Wild Hunt at all — it was destroyed months earlier, during a Conjunction of the Spheres. Monsters ravaged the area… and the former King of Kaedwen also…"
Vilgefortz suddenly paused, as if remembering something, and turned to Allen.
"If I'm not mistaken, you were there that day, weren't you?"
Allen's eyes grew distant as he looked toward the dark mass of the coliseum. He drew in a deep breath and nodded gently.
"Yes. When the Spheres converged… when the Black Sun rose over Kaedwen… and when King Henselt was crushed to death — I was there."
He placed his hand softly on the wall of the dark green tower beside him.
"This mage tower — it's Alzur Tower. We stayed here before the dueling tournament."
There are many turning points in a person's life.
Time outside the nodes passed in monotonous repetition — a mechanical cycle of the same motions, over and over again.
But once one of those nodes appeared — whether for good or ill — life's rhythm would shift in an instant. It was as though the very purpose of existence was to await those turning points.
And if he were to look back on his life since coming to the world of the Witchers—
The countless crossroads of fate that had gathered within a single year outnumbered all those of his previous thirty years combined.
Yet among them, only two stood out most vividly.
The first was when he drank that "sealing fee" milk tea given by the department mascot — the drink that brought him to this world and gave him the Witcher Journal.
The second was here — during the apprentice tournament between the Wolf and Cat Schools — when he completed that "Hunting Mission: Drowners II."
At that time, he hadn't realized it; he had even felt smug about Henselt's death. But in hindsight…
The ripples he stirred in the river of fate that day had never faded. Instead, they had grown into surging waves.
Henselt's death, Aedirn's war, the arrival of the Wild Hunt, the taming of the Royal Griffin, the fall of Kaedwen, the exile of the king, the rise of the Sorcerers' Kingdom…
All of it could be traced back to March 21st — the first spring equinox he spent in Ban Ard, right there in the nearby arena.
Ah, the uneven weave of fate…
"What a pity," Vilgefortz sighed with regret, pulling Allen back from his thoughts.
Allen blinked. "Pity? For what?"
"It's a pity I was still in Temeria then, unable to see it with my own eyes," Vilgefortz shrugged. "But…"
His tone shifted. "Now isn't the time for sentiment."
"Though there's still a while before Sunny and Ortolan return, the investigation was too rushed. A large portion of the route remains unmapped, so…"
"Then let's not waste time," Allen interrupted. He drew Night·Shade from his chest, and in front of Vilgefortz, his form dissolved into the air.
Vilgefortz froze for a moment, brow arching. Then, after muttering a few obscure incantations under his breath, he too vanished into the tower's shadow.
-----------------------------------
Infiltrating the arena was easier than expected.
It was the hour when night and day changed shifts. The men on the scaffolding, who looked like repair workers, were in fact disguised mage sentinels — though their vigilance could hardly be called that anymore.
Those tall, upright figures Allen had seen from afar turned out, upon closer look, to be low-grade black humanoid illusions.
The real guards were either dozing against the walls, leafing through books, meditating, or lying on the ground atop bundles of straw, snoring loudly.
Allen almost felt his use of Night·Shade, Francesca's gift, was overkill. He could have walked straight in, and none of them would've noticed.
"When I first found this place, the guards weren't nearly this slack," Vilgefortz's voice echoed in his mind. "But with Sunny's focus now spent on founding the Sorcerers' Kingdom — and on his endless political games with Ortolan and Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization — he rarely comes here anymore."
"Still, even then, they were never this lax…"
"They clearly know Sunny isn't 'home' tonight."
Hidden under Night·Shade, the witcher's expression turned peculiar. For some reason, listening to Vilgefortz's words made him picture a bunch of high school students during evening study hours, goofing off because all the teachers were away in a meeting.
And indeed, looking closer, the guards' faces were all youthful.
Well then…
They really were students — just apprentices of the mages.
No wonder their illusions were so crude; even an unupgraded witcher's Illusory Pearl would outclass them.
"Don't get careless," Vilgefortz warned in his mind, noticing Allen's relaxed movements. "The guards aren't the problem. The real danger lies in the vast network of magical traps Sunny set beneath the arena — traps as intricate as a royal palace. Add to that the gargoyles, golems, and gene-spliced beasts of the Rissberg Consortium…"
"Those won't slack off or lose function just because Sunny's gone."
Allen took a deep breath and nodded slightly. "Don't worry. I know."
And just as the two of them knocked out a pair of dozing sentinels and pried open the gate to the underground halls—
Sunny and Ortolan, returning from their campaign, arrived back in Ban Ard.
..........
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