Chapter 1409 - 1374: Exhausted in Mind and Spirit

Lann’s return to Airetusa wasn’t shrouded in secrecy, but his arrival at High Hill Castle was indeed concealed.

Temeria has too many harsh terrains where even humans are scarce, let alone spies or informants.

The chances of being seen on the wilderness roads are slim, and even slimmer to be recognized. Inside the castle, Lann is quite at ease with the Embers Knights.

They are his troops, personally led against Niflgaard’s army in Sintra.

There’s no need to mention controlling information leaks; those servants and grooms allocated by Temeria were already arranged accordingly as soon as Lann and his men arrived.

Their arrival at High Hill Castle is certainly kept under wraps.

"But they guessed right," Lann withdrew his gaze from the observation slit in the castle wall and turned to smile lightly at Triss. "Indeed, I won’t be appearing here."

The female warlock looked at Lann in confusion.

"Wait, let me confirm... You should know, if they’ve gone to such lengths, they must be quite confident in this endeavor, right?"

Triss crossed her arms, tapping the tip of one foot on the stone ground of the castle, as a gesture.

"There are only sixty knights in this castle, even if they are Embers Knights, even if they hold the advantage of defending the castle, there are still only sixty."

"And from what you imply, ten of those sixty are not included in the defense."

"Heh, you’re sure you don’t need a mage’s help?"

Triss added a playful smile at the end.

She thought Lann was joking with her.

Mages have traditionally been artillery in battles.

They hold significant positions in castle defense scenarios.

Rumor has it that during the Sintra Royal Palace siege, Great Druid Moscow used his magic to fend off Niflgaard’s army at the palace gates for a while.

Yet, the Demon Hunter shook his head in ease, indicating he truly wasn’t joking.

"If they are indeed those zealots from the White Rose Knight Order, then they must have bypassed the Holy Hall Council and did this discreetly."

"And if I act here, the result would be ’too good,’ too conspicuous, thus hindering my upcoming plans."

"As for a warlock?" Lann glanced at Triss, "This battlefield won’t see a warlock."

"Eternal Fire naturally spurns witchcraft and supernatural powers. They would only prepare enough Demon-Blocking Gold, not hire a warlock capable of calling down hail."

"They believe Demon-Blocking Gold can adequately suppress my connections in the warlock community... which is really effective, but not beneficial for them."

The red-haired warlock nodded, "Looks like you do have a plan."

"Not necessarily a plan," Lann laughed lightly, pinching a small distance with his fingers, "just a tiny bit of preparation."

"Speaking of preparation," suddenly, the female warlock, arranging her hair, grasped her braided hairstyle at the back of her head, giving it a little shake, and wine-red locks cascaded down.

Her eyes fell upon the Demon Hunter across from her, fiery and unabashed.

"I don’t want to sleep alone on that hard bed tonight. Not at all! The issue isn’t how hard the bed is, no matter how hard the bed board is, there’s always a way to sleep on it, you know, darling?"

The hands that previously extracted themselves from Lann’s skin to maintain rational discourse now slipped inside the silk hem of his shirt collar.

The female warlock’s voice was sultrily sticky like honey; her legs subconsciously rubbed together, nudging the Demon Hunter toward a particular room in the castle.

"But I need to process materials, esteemed Royal Advisor." Lann raised a finger, particularly emphasizing he still had work to do. "It’s enough potion ingredients for ten people."

"Leave it to your knights, Sir Lann," the female warlock bit on that finger, "I’ve seen them; they’ve learned alchemy well, at least in material processing."

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Although Lann Jelot and his team departed from Gos Velen City gates in the morning, the roads of Temeria are not well made; under some meadows might hide swamps.

Additionally, Temeria’s expansiveness means that even if the straight-line distance isn’t too far, their arrival at High Hill Castle was indeed late.

Furthermore, Lann had to audit, hear Lincoln’s report, and select ten mutated individuals.

After dealing with these scattered tasks, the dusk had set in.

In this remote small castle, there wasn’t a bustling tavern like in town to pass the time, so they should rest when it’s time to rest.

The living conditions in the castle aren’t bad, although the facilities are similar to those in Ker Morhan; High Hill Castle’s latitude and terrain are much warmer than far north Codwin.

So even in autumn, the nights aren’t extremely cold.

Though Lann mentioned yesterday that the Embers Knights didn’t need to venture out for investigations, Lincoln was still uneasy and increased the number of night patrols on the castle walls.

Only unlit sentinels are there; they don’t ambulate obviously with torches.

Upon hearing that someone covertly targeted High Hill Castle without them noticing, Lincoln was initially startled.

But immediately, he now wished that group of brazen individuals, whose allegiance was unknown, would quickly come over.

While the Lord is still here, if this group really attacks the castle, the Ember Knights might not even have to pay for the castle’s outer wall repairs.

A group of people, just like on Sodden Mountain, simply led to charge recklessly and it’s over.

With Lann’s keen insight into battlefield situations, no matter what your plans are.

But if Lann gets entangled by the Warlock Summit, although the Ember Knights are the most elite Knight Order, if they are set up, they would indeed suffer losses.

However, Lincoln himself, despite being on high alert, since the Lord has already said there’s no need to worry, he doesn’t plan to make a big fuss.

His trust is absolute.

Early the next morning, in the autumn morning’s cold wind, High Hill Castle began its daily hustle and bustle as usual.

The Temeria cook assigned to the Ember Knight Order was outside the cafeteria moving out a salted pork leg — this was the breakfast ingredient.

He brought out a basin of water to wash off the layer of black soot on the surface of the salted pork leg, and later he had to shave off the oxidized fat layer with a knife until the bright red muscle was exposed to eat.

The servants were helping, several teenagers who seemed to be hired locally from Velen, were now sniffing and looking with envy and admiration at the castle grounds where the Ember Knights were undergoing their morning training.

When following Lann, the Ember Knights progress the fastest, but at High Hill Castle, they quickly become well-organized, with all sorts of systems and regulations quickly forming.

Of course...Lann suspected that Lincoln, the young secretary with a hidden ’middle schooler’s soul’, must have sneaked a lot of private matters into them.

Standing on the high platform at the main tower door of the castle, Lann watched his knights practicing swordsmanship.

Belengar was still not awake, Lann suspected he was worried about the Cyan Grass Trial the night before, leading to insomnia.

Geralt, however, had a good biological clock. He was even earlier than Lann, wearing jodhpurs, boots, and a linen shirt, standing on this platform.

He sat half-perched on the solid wood railing of the high platform, turning sideways to look back at the knights’ training.

"Did you sleep well, White Wolf?" Lann greeted while placing his hands on the railing, looking downwards. "It’s a bit odd to say, but it was indeed the first time I slept in this castle that belongs to me."

The young Demon Hunter stretched his neck and muscles, but even with this simple action, his swollen muscles already showed powerful contours under his skin.

It felt like a large machine warming up its engine, with a sense of pressure.

"I’m not picky about where I sleep, I’ve gotten used to it." Geralt said calmly with his distinctive hoarse voice.

The autumn morning’s cold wind in Velen’s wilderness had no effect on the Demon Hunter with super endurance.

Both Lann’s and Geralt’s shirts even had open collars.

The dense leaves outside the castle were blown by the wind, falling with the sunlight filtered through the tree shadows.

"But on another note..." Geralt crossed his arms, still half-sitting on the railing, "Aren’t you misunderstanding your castle’s soundproofing capabilities, Sir Lann?"

He chuckled teasingly, tapping the railing with his hand: "The stone castle built for war purposes doesn’t have the soundproof layers of residential castles."

Seeing the young Demon Hunter pouting in silence, Geralt didn’t press further.

He himself was no better off than Lann, when he first met Yennefer and faced danger, trapped under the ruins of an inn on a city street.

At the time, after resolving the crisis, feelings were stirred, and mutual goodwill emerged, they actually did it directly under the ruins in broad daylight...

It can only be said that female warlocks and Demon Hunters inherently do not care about the opinions and gossip of others.

So, regarding the ’play,’ Geralt still can point at Lann and laugh at him for being a ’youngster’.

"But I remember Dandelion once described: the personality of female warlocks is as explosive and scorching hot as burning red branding irons, and when two burning red branding irons clamp someone in between, the scene must be quite..."

"Anyway, I can’t figure out how anyone actually enjoys being sandwiched between female warlocks."

"Isn’t that you?" Lann shook his head with curiosity, looking at Geralt, "I remember you also had entanglements with not a few female warlocks, of course, you know what I mean, not counting Yennefer."

"The situation is different." Geralt awkwardly turned his head, "We were just making love, not in love. Yennefer doesn’t care. But have you seen how Triss looks at you...you’re not sneaking with Triss behind Margaret’s back, are you?"

His expression turned peculiar as he spoke: "Buddy, that woman’s magic is no joke!"

The person in question just waved his hand: "Dandelion’s analysis of female warlocks is very sound; no wonder he’s a professor of literature at Osenford University, but he’s too used to viewing interactions with female warlocks through the lens of an ordinary person."

"A piece of meat placed in between burning red branding irons, of course, is horrific. But I..." The young Demon Hunter pointed to himself, smiling: "Am a piece of steel."

Geralt watched Lann smile, remained silent for a moment before he chuckled bitterly: "...Seeing you always makes me feel old indeed."

"You’re just exhausted emotionally because of the concern for Ciri, and the tangled situation now." Lann comforted him, "Even that old man Belengar is still full of energy!"

Geralt just smiled, unsure how much Lann’s comfort would help.

But immediately, from below the high platform came a unique sound of collision that directed both Demon Hunters’ attention.

"Clang!!!"