Astartes of the Bear School

Chapter 1440 1412. Old School
"This is Lan En's friend, too. Why are you so nervous?"

Gerd spoke carelessly, but Sheldon shrank his neck, carefully looked at Gascoigne standing aside, and spoke in a low voice.

"But I feel like something's wrong! Even if it's a portal, it's not like this! I've seen a lot of portals!"

"And look at him. He's covered in a layer of green light! Isn't he a demon?"

Gascoigne's body was indeed covered with a layer of green light. The green light was very strange. It felt like a slight reflection after a pale green light source from the outside world hit his body.

Deep and gloomy.

But now the moon has already moved halfway across the sky, and all around is either darkness or the red light of fire, so where does the green light come from?

This resulted in Gascoigne looking normal at first glance except for his odd clothing, but a closer look gave people an inexplicable chill.

Schillerton was well-informed, so even though he had communicated with Gascoigne, he still suspected that this man was a demon, just a special one that could communicate.

"A demon spirit!" The red-bearded dwarf's bell continued to shake, his face horrified, "This bell must be a magical tool to restrain him! I dare not stop!"

"And look at the way he's enjoying himself now!"

Gascoigne's eyes were still covered with gauze, but on the street where a lot of blood had just been spilled, he subconsciously took a deep breath, as if he was enjoying the smell of blood.

This breath, which smelled extremely sweet to the people of Yharnam, circulated in his chest before being exhaled slowly.

The body of the Yharnam hunter was activated by the smell of blood, and the breath exhaled by Gascoigne became white mist visible to the naked eye in this autumn night.

The corners of Berengar's mouth twitched, but he still explained to the worried Xileton.

"No, he is not a demon spirit. This is at most a soul projection. There is no such thing as a demon spirit. There is no such thing at all."

"What you have in your hand should be a magic item that can resonate with each other, not a magical tool that can bind demons."

"Uh, are you sure?" Xileton looked skeptical, and only stopped ringing the bell after Berengar nodded again.

"Well, that's much better. The sound of the summoning bell keeps ringing in my heart. It gets annoying if I keep hearing it."

Gascoigne breathed a sigh of relief.

"I saw you seemed to like the smell of blood just now?" Gede looked at him suspiciously, "Are you also a vampire? Lan En made another vampire friend?"

"Vampire? You mean the blood clan? No, I'm not." Gascoigne tried to understand what the other party meant. He shook his head, "But the taste of blood is indeed very sweet to my nose. It's a dangerous bad habit, and I'm trying to overcome it."

"I wish you success in advance, Gascoigne."

Berengar said this while trying to move the leg that had just been shot with an arrow.

The old witcher had split the shares of Valyrian Steel with Lan in half, and he spent much less money than the young man.

Naturally, the alchemical bombs, sword oils, and magic potions he equipped himself with were all the most expensive and top-quality.

[Advanced Swallow] In the short time since the arrow entered the thigh muscle and was pulled out abruptly, the wound has healed to the point where the bleeding has stopped automatically and no longer affects the movement.

This was also the reason why Gerd dared to pull out the arrow directly from his body just now - he knew that this old wolf was full of good stuff.

"There are a few more important places in the workshop area. We have to take care of them all. These craftsmen must also be settled first."

Berengar went through the situation one by one, causing Shelerton and Gerd to nod repeatedly.

After saying that, he patted his injured leg and said in a deep voice: "And the most important thing is that they just wanted to capture me alive. You should know what this means."

"What they want is all the secrets of Valyrian steel." Silden's frown was so tight that it could kill a fly. "So we have to protect you closely."

"Not only will I protect you from open attacks, I will also protect the knowledge in your head through invisible magic!"

"Don't worry about that." Berengar waved his hand, but the smile on his face carried an inexplicable meaning.

"Psychic magic can't confuse demon hunters for too long, and I'm an old hand and know how to deal with these methods. As long as I'm not captured alive, I won't leak out."

"Don't say such nonsense!"

Before Berengar could finish what he was saying in an inexplicable tone, Gerd interrupted him with a sullen face.

"They don't look like there are that many of them, and the terrain here isn't complicated." Gascoigne also interjected, "I should be able to stay for a few more hours. Before that, Lan should be able to finish what he's doing now, right?"

"Thank you." After a brief silence, Berengar smiled at the helper who was summoned in some way and said, "When this is over, we can have a good drink."

"By the way, I can also give you a fashionable hat. You are so old-fashioned."

"Old school?"

Gascoigne muttered the word, remembering his first meeting with Henrik and Lane.

He raised his hand and adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, a smile appearing under his blindfold. "I'm looking forward to seeing what kind of hats are popular here."
-
It was already around three or four in the morning, but the banquet in Aretusa's banquet hall was still not over.

But the banquet was already moving towards tradition, and the atmosphere was much more relaxed. Some people moved the long table away, brought in benches and armchairs, and started playing some vulgar and bohemian games.

Many people sat around a whole barrel of wine, drinking and chatting, bursting into laughter from time to time.

Not long ago, they had solemnly listed a series of banquet etiquette, and repeatedly emphasized it, set an example themselves, and rolled their eyes at those who lacked etiquette. But now they just pick up lamb chops and pig's trotters with their hands and eat them with relish.

Several people were playing cards together, while someone was sleeping next to them.

Several pairs of men and women were kissing and groping each other in a corner of the banquet hall. Judging from the warm atmosphere, kissing alone would not satisfy them.

Dijkstra and the Redanian soldiers he brought with him moved quietly in the shadow of Aretuza and left the academy.

Dijkstra was so angry about the fake list that he almost fainted.

They came here to support Philippa this time, and on the one hand, they really wanted to clean up the traitors among the warlocks.

On the other hand, he wanted to dig out the root of the problem and make a list of all those who had contact and collusion with these traitorous sorcerers.

Read more latest popular novels at 6.9*shuba!

Fortunately, before the next war broke out, we had done the cleanup and preparations.

But what's the point of getting an unreliable list? Not only is it useless, but if the news that he had seen the list was leaked, it would be troublesome for him, Vizimir, and the Kingdom of Redania!

Not only will everyone be in danger, but his credibility and reliability as a spy will also be greatly reduced when he does anything in the future!
The only thing that could comfort Dijkstra was that Lan had discovered that there was something wrong with the list as soon as he got it, before he had time to do anything around it.

Fortunately, he had not had time to use this list, otherwise his head would have been chopped off!

But it was also Lan, the demon hunter who followed them, who frustrated Dijkstra's plan to stay in Aretusa to interrogate and investigate personally.

What the king's lackeys did today was excessive enough. No matter what, they could not remain in Aretusa.

Even Philippa agreed with this point.

Even if she hadn't seen Lan just now, she would have asked to chase him away after confirming that Dijkstra had led his men to finish the work.

She was still a wizard after all.

To endanger the independent status of wizards in the North is also to endanger herself.

"Look at these people, my lord."

Dijkstra looked back in the shadows at the still brightly lit banquet hall.

"They are having so much fun, just like a group of children. While they are playing, the Supreme Council of Warlocks loyal to the major kingdoms in the North has almost captured all the confirmed traitors and is also detaining those suspects whose identities are not confirmed."

"Soon, those people will be investigated and tried for treason and collusion with the Nilfgaardians."

"Look at those wild couples. Before they could finish their little business in their pants, Vigfortz was hanged. Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, this world is really weird, isn't it?"

The Supreme Council of Warlocks should have been one of the two major institutions for warlocks to manage themselves.

But as time went by, the kings finally achieved a certain degree of infiltration by relying on their pervasive political influence.

It is not clear whether this infiltration was carried out spontaneously by a wise and capable king or whether it was the self-integration of power itself.

Today, all five members of the Supreme Council of Warlocks hold the title of "Royal Advisors" of their respective countries.

It has become the intersection of power between sorcerers and kings.

Among the warlocks who took action this time, several great wizards from the Supreme Council of Warlocks were indeed the ones who were led and implicated.

"Quiet, Dijkstra."

That was all Lan En said.

"You'd better hope that your entry into Aretuza can be kept secret. I am doing this for your own good. You slapped the warlocks in the face, and they are now busy with their own affairs. But you'd better not spread the story of this slap in the face to the public."

"Otherwise, one day, you might be found dead in your own bed, and during the autopsy, you'll see your lungs covered in hair. And Vizmir will undoubtedly choose to keep quiet."

At three or four in the morning, Aretusa was dead silent and dimly lit.

Because the purpose of the operation was to capture the suspect secretly, the fifty soldiers led by Dijkstra all wore soft-soled shoes, so they did not make much noise when they stepped on the marble floor.

In the long, dark corridor and the towering, luxurious vaulted ceiling, there were only the silent footsteps of the soldiers and the low conversation of two people.

Then they walked out of the building. A cool breeze blew from the dark sea, and they finally didn't have to walk lightly.

(End of this chapter)