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TWL Chapter 509: Knights, Mutants, and Kings
🕑 Added 2025-07-29 19:46:27 +0000 UTCNeither the people of the South nor those of the North could quite understand His Majesty Lann’s obsession with hunting monsters—or his apparent favoritism toward witchers as a group.
Sure, it was true that His Majesty Lann was a witcher himself. But judging by the wisdom and discernment he had consistently demonstrated, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who would make absurd decisions based on personal bias.
Even back when he was the commander of the North, he had invoked wartime provisions to elevate the status of witchers across the region. He fought to establish a “Witcher Outpost” in every nation—even in tiny countries barely the size of a single city—so witchers would always have a place to stay.
And during the campaign to pacify the South, His Majesty Lann treated the deployment of witchers as equally important as consolidating popular support. This left many of the military commanders utterly baffled.
Yet what happened next once again proved His Majesty’s foresight.
A new Conjunction of the Spheres had begun.
In every kingdom and city that hosted stationed witchers, unrest broke out. But those disturbances were quickly quelled. Leaders across the continent came to realize that even if the local witchers couldn’t handle a crisis, they could summon more experienced mentors, high-ranking sorcerers—or even His Majesty Lann himself.
For the first time, the world began to take witchers seriously.
At the time, the South had yet to be fully unified. Many of the independent provinces were left ravaged by the onslaught of newly emerged monsters. One by one, they rushed to recognize Queen Ciri’s legitimate authority, desperate to be included within the witchers’ sphere of protection and receive aid.
After establishing a few preconditions, His Majesty Lann accepted them gladly.
To this day, though Lann had not formally proclaimed himself emperor, he had already succeeded in spreading the presence of witchers to every corner of his realm.
Even after receiving tangible support and undeniable benefits, the nobles still struggled to comprehend Lann’s policy.
But the common folk had already begun praying to him, praising his name in their songs and devotions.
...
Toussaint—the land of fairy tales, and the southernmost kingdom bordering Cintra.
For reasons of political strategy, Lann intended to establish a new chapter of the witcher order there by building a new stronghold.
As for the site of the new castle, it was Geralt who offered the suggestion: Toussaint.
The land boasted the finest wines, the friendliest atmosphere toward witchers during the old days, and a longstanding neutrality throughout the history of North-South conflicts.
Most importantly—after the great bard Dandelion’s noble 'sacrifice', Duchess Anna Henrietta, ruler of Toussaint, willingly offered up her territory to house this noble and selfless group.
Thus, Toussaint became home to the largest witcher fortress on the Continent, second only to the Cintra headquarters. It became the secondary heart of the Witcher Order.
If any nation had a major contract, they often came here to meet the order’s official representatives.
And it was here that the new Witcher Conclave was convened.
...
Around the round table, the members of the “Witcher Council” had all assembled—along with two unfamiliar new faces.
One of them sat beside Gerd of the Bear School. This witcher had short white hair, battle-scars etched across his face, and aside from the standard two swords, he also carried a pair of axes at his waist.
He was a bit smaller than Gerd and Letho in build, yet still noticeably more muscular than most others present.
The other witcher sat alone at the edge of the table, with no fellow schoolmates nearby. In addition to the twin swords on his back, he also carried a silver-rimmed round shield.
The two newcomers said little, while the older witchers chatted animatedly, their conversation loud and lively.
“I came across a strange-looking guy once. I figure he must’ve fallen out of some other world during a Conjunction of the Spheres,” said Kolgrim, speaking with a conspiratorial tone. “The man had arms and eyes made of iron! And inside his body—copper wires and silver strands for veins!”
“Oh?” Keldar’s eyes lit up with interest. “Did you manage to learn anything from him about the customs of his world?”
“Nope. Poor bastard, for some reason, ran straight into a grave hag’s nest. By the time I found him, there were only bits and pieces left.”
Kolgrim shrugged. “But I did find a diary on the corpse—written partly in our language, and partly in some other gibberish I couldn’t understand.”
Keldar, ever the scholar, immediately said, “Let me take a look!”
Kolgrim had no reason to refuse. After a moment of rummaging through his cloak, he pulled out a notebook, and in that instant, every eye around the table turned toward it.
The craftsmanship of the book didn’t belong to this era.
In the corner, the old Griffin muttered to himself, “Lexington? What the hell is that? And what are bullets?”
“What’s a ‘cyberpsycho’? He thinks he’s gone mad?”
Eskel and Letho, meanwhile, didn’t join in the chatter. They were quietly scribbling on the papers in front of them, clearly preparing some kind of report.
The two of them had always been diligent.
Suddenly, a radiant emerald light lit up inside the room, drawing the attention of every witcher present.
“Long time no see, everyone.” Before the light even faded, Lann’s voice rang out from within.
The witchers greeted him with loud cheers. The two new faces stood up at once, with the one carrying the round shield looking especially tense.
“All hail His Majesty Lann and Her Majesty Ciri!” Lambert shouted, raising his tankard high.
Ciri’s face twitched. She shook the wolf-head medallion hanging from her neck and snapped, “The taverns in Toussaint are closed to you for a whole month!”
The witchers burst into even louder laughter.
Lann laughed heartily along with them for a while before raising a hand for silence.
“Master, how have things been in Toussaint lately?” Lann turned to Jerome first.
Jerome smiled and nodded. Toussaint was his homeland—one of the reasons Lann had chosen it as the site for the new castle.
Though it held many painful memories that Jerome would rather not revisit, it remained a place he could never truly leave behind.
Seeing Jerome’s joy, Lann’s smile grew more sincere as well.
Then, he turned to face all the witchers gathered. “My apologies for the slight delay. As you all know, Ciri and I were caught up with... certain matters.”
“Before we begin today’s agenda, allow me to welcome the two newest members of the Witcher Council—”
He first pointed to the white-haired witcher sitting beside Gerd.
“Hakan Herens!”
Hakan Herens, like Gerd, was one of the rare Bear School witchers known for their emotions—and he even carried an ambition to revive his school. Upon learning of the Witcher Order’s return, he had come forward to join of his own accord.
Gerd, acting as Hakan’s sponsor, had introduced him to the Witcher Council. While Gerd himself was immensely powerful, the Bear School only held a single seat within the council, meaning that when it came to matters requiring a vote, his participation was often symbolic at best.
Hakan’s arrival solved a pressing problem for Gerd. After a period of observing his character and influence, Gerd formally recommended him. Given Gerd’s long-standing reputation, the others accepted his nomination without objection.
Since then, Gerd had hoped to find more emotionally capable witchers from his school to join the fold—but none ever appeared.
...
After introducing the new recruit from the Bear School, Lann turned to the other side of the room—toward the witcher with the round shield on his back.
“And here we have Caleb Asmar of the Manticore School, who has traveled an immense distance from Zerrikania to be here!”
Caleb was lean and wiry, with dreadlocks typical of the desert folk. He had only managed to make contact after enduring countless hardships—thanks in no small part to Saskia’s efforts.
The Manticore School had once broken away from the Witcher Order entirely, migrating farther than any other splinter group. They had crossed even the northernmost Dragon Mountains and settled deep in the inland realm of Zerrikania.
There, they had cast aside traditional witcher customs and instead became royal bodyguards for the Zerrikanian monarchy.
Unfortunately, history had shown time and again that when witchers became entangled in politics, the outcome was rarely favorable. Today, the Manticore School in Zerrikania could barely be described as surviving.
Upon hearing that a member of a northern royal family had become a witcher and was actively rebuilding the Order, the Manticores, long accustomed to serving royalty, made the bold decision to migrate south and offer their allegiance.
However, given their recent arrival, the Manticore School was granted only one seat on the council.
They understood completely. In truth, this outcome had already surpassed their most optimistic expectations—they didn’t dare hope for more.
“And so,” Lann declared with heartfelt emotion, “all six of the schools that split off during the Order’s golden age have finally been reunited under one banner.”
The witchers responded with cheers and applause, sloshing half their wine onto the table in celebration.
Once the welcome had concluded, Lann motioned for everyone to take their seats. The meeting was officially underway.
“Were there any difficulties in implementing the measures we discussed at the last meeting?”
It was time to resolve some lingering historical issues.
“Eskel?” Lann turned his gaze to the Wolf School.
Steady and reliable, Eskel had been entrusted with many important tasks.
“Everything on my end has gone fairly smoothly,” Eskel replied with good news.
“You asked us to sweep the areas near Thanedd Island for any remnants of the Wild Hunt—we did find a few stragglers, but they were swiftly dealt with.”
Eskel’s team included Vesemir and Geralt, both of whom—like Eskel himself—had undergone a second mutation. For these three, taking down scattered survivors was effortless.
“A few of them had even disguised themselves as Aen Seidhe elves living among us. Some had even settled down, gotten married, and had children—we didn’t kill them. Figured we’d wait for your judgment.”
Lann paused for a moment in thought. “I’ll go see them myself later. Anything else I should be aware of?”
Eskel pondered for a second, then his eyes lit up.
“While we were hunting down the Wild Hunt, we came across a very promising knight. His name is Draco. He’s been actively helping the local villagers, and he’s even got confirmed solo kills against members of the Hunt.”
Eskel gave a genuine word of praise.
“He’s incredibly skilled with sword and blade—almost on par with that bounty hunter Bonhart from back in the day. And he’s a huge admirer of yours. Says he’s eager to join your Lion Guard.”
“He’s in Toussaint right now?”
“Yes.”
Lann nodded and mused, “I’ll go meet him after this meeting. If his aptitude and character prove sound, I’ll observe him for a while. If all goes well, I’ll use Elder Blood to initiate his witcher mutations and induct him into the School of the Lion.”
Eskel smiled in satisfaction and gestured that his report was complete.
