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TWL Chapter 492: Echoes of the Conjunction
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 23:58:07 +0000 UTC“What do you think of your new nickname, Lann?”
Across the round table, Geralt grinned at Lann, drawing a round of laughter from the witchers nearby.
Lann waved his hand dismissively. “It may just be a nickname the common folk are tossing around for now, but sooner or later, it’ll become an official title. Might as well let everyone get used to it.”
The witchers burst into louder laughter, but beneath the mirth, there was little mockery.
Three years ago, during the Cintra Summit, the kings of the Northern Kingdoms had finally reached a consensus: to form the Northern Unified Military Alliance, a response to Nilfgaard’s ever-watchful, ever-threatening presence.
At that time, Duke Lannister—widely acknowledged as the most accomplished military mind in the North—had been unanimously elected by the major monarchs to lead the alliance. He was tasked with overseeing all matters related to the Nilfgaardian threat and was granted the title Supreme Marshal of the Northern Armies.
A year later, Nilfgaard launched its second invasion—just as Lann had warned in the intelligence he’d shared with every Northern ruler.
But this time, the North was prepared. Every kingdom, large and small, had mobilized in an unprecedented show of unity. Under Lannister’s command—who personally led from the front—a wall of steel was raised at the gateway to the North.
Nilfgaard hadn’t anticipated the difference between this war and the first. Lann had even brought the entire Brotherhood of Sorcerers into the fight, calling upon powerful contracted units—dragons, giants, and other high-tier combatants—to rally on the front lines. With overwhelming force, they met Nilfgaard’s Black Sun Legion the moment it crossed into Northern territory.
Nilfgaard was completely blindsided.
That battle clogged the Yaruga River with corpses. For a week afterward, the river downstream still ran red.
It was an unprecedented victory for the North.
Yet Nilfgaard, vast and resilient, didn’t collapse. Even after its defeat, it managed to hold the line, and the war transitioned into a drawn-out strategic standoff. Both sides began deploying their full strength in a test of endurance.
Casualties slowly but steadily mounted. Smaller kingdoms within the North began to realize they could no longer sustain their own forces.
Most of these were the same kingdoms that had failed to align with Cintra during the Cintra Summit.
As a result, several 'independent kingdoms' gradually lost autonomy, becoming subordinate states—or outright provinces—under larger powers.
The remaining kings dared not withdraw. The war had reached a stage where deserters would be devoured. And besides, those who had supported Cintra from the start had begun to reap real, tangible benefits from the conflict.
Their wealth was growing along with the war effort.
As the fighting dragged on, Lann’s stature among the people soared. To the soldiers on the front lines, he had become a god of war. Meanwhile, the kings still wielding power realized their prosperity grew in proportion to Lann’s campaigns—so they began to obey him more readily, deferring to his leadership.
With the title Marshal of the North already firmly established, whispers of a new name began to spread:
King in the North.
…
The laughter of the witchers slowly died down. Even they could hardly believe the situation they now found themselves in.
Once, they had hoped for the support of a single powerful ally like Cintra. Who could have imagined they would one day have nearly the entire North standing behind the Order?
Lann had never hidden his ambition to unify the North—not from his own.
“Alright, alright, our future King in the North,” Vesemir chuckled, shaking his head. He gave Lambert a punch on the arm, then brought the conversation back on track. “But for now, as Grandmaster of the Witcher Order, how about you lead today’s meeting?”
Lann gave a nod, his gaze sweeping across the room. Just like during the first meeting that founded the Order, the witchers were all seated around the round table.
Griffin, Wolf, Viper, Cat, Bear—and the Lion School he now represented—these remained the core factions of the Order.
There was still no word from Zerrikania regarding the Manticore School, and in recent months, no witchers from any other schools had come to join their ranks. The same dozen or so witchers still sat at the table.
But compared to those early days, their strength had grown by leaps and bounds. Every one of them had undergone the Second Mutation and now wore specially forged witcher armor.
After much discussion, it had been decided that these witchers—present since the founding of the Order—would form the Witchers' Council. Even as new witchers were trained in the future, they would be under the Council’s leadership.
And today’s topic of discussion was directly related to the emergence of those 'new witchers'.
Everyone sat upright, solemn and attentive. Though they had been informed of the meeting’s topic in advance, each witcher still read through the proposal in front of them with serious focus.
“Lann… isn’t this a bit too soon?” Vesemir was the first to speak.
The old wolf had always had a knack for weighing risks and benefits, and his advice was often sharp and precise. “The children have only been in training for three years. Leo advanced quickly through the Trial of the Grasses only because Keldar and Jerome gave him incredibly intensive, cost-no-object preparation. These new apprentices haven’t received anything close to that level of training. I’m worried they won’t make it.”
Even Letho, usually reserved, nodded in rare agreement. “Even if they survive the grasses and the dream trials, they’re not ready to face monsters on their own. The casualty rate will be too high.”
Those in charge of the apprentices’ training—Eskel, Lambert, even Coën—all nodded as well, offering varying degrees of caution and advice.
The topic at hand was shocking: Lann intended to advance the timeline and put these apprentices—barely three years into their training—through the Trial of the Grasses and send them out to hunt monsters.
“Lann,” Jerome spoke up, concern in his eyes, “has the war on the frontlines grown that desperate? Are you planning to send the children to the battlefield? If that’s the case, we can go ourselves. Leave a few of us behind to handle the training.”
Lann gently shook his head, signaling his old teacher to be patient.
“My friends,” he began, “I understand your concerns. I know what you’re all wondering. Let me explain everything.”
He stood up. The few who had looked ready to speak again immediately fell silent.
“First of all, the frontlines are stable. The apprentices won’t be going to war,” Lann said, gesturing toward the window. “They’ll be heading into various regions of the North.”
“Three years ago, senior mages of the Brotherhood already detected early signs of a Conjunction of the Spheres. Monster activity has been rising ever since. Some entirely new creatures have even appeared.”
“And in recent years, the rampage has only worsened. You’ve all seen it—you’ve been taking more and more contracts to deal with them.” Lann met the gaze of each witcher. “This is when the North needs us most. The common folk need our protection. The Order needs us to fulfill our purpose. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for—isn’t it?”
For the past three years, these witchers had thrown themselves into training the next generation, striving to preserve their schools. But under Lann’s guidance, many had also ventured out to hunt monsters, and so most of them had seen firsthand the signs of the Conjunction.
All around the table, the witchers nodded slightly, their expressions grave.
“Back during the Cintra Summit three years ago,” Lann continued, “I had already proposed to the Northern kings that we establish Regional Offices for the Witcher Order—branches that would support witcher activities across the North. It would operate like the Witcher Relay Station system I implemented in Cintra. All of it has been leading to this day.”
“I know what worries you, Vesemir. Witchers in the past needed decades of training before they could work alone. And now you’re worried that after only three years, these kids might not even be able to handle a single drowners’ nest?”
“That’s right,” Vesemir replied with a firm nod. “Even with better resources and alchemical supplies speeding up the Trial of Choice, and even if they survive the Trial of the Grasses and the Trial of Dreams, all that means is they’ll have the physique of a witcher.”
The old wolf’s tone was serious. “But the study of monster compendiums, potion crafting—those things can’t be rushed just because we have more materials. They’re nowhere near ready to be called witchers. Honestly, they’re not even proper apprentices yet.”
The others nodded in agreement.
“I understand,” Lann said. “Let me respond to your concerns, one at a time. First, about survival—I'm planning to abolish the traditional lone-wolf model. From now on, witchers will operate in Witcher Teams.”
That single statement drew startled looks from the table.
“Over the past months, you’ve all been training apprentices based on their individual traits—teaching them dagger work, crossbows, rapiers, half-swords, and more, correct?”
“I want to group them accordingly into teams—Wolf, Cat, Viper, Griffin, Bear—so each team has a balance of complementary skills and can adapt to various scenarios.”
“Additionally, each Witcher Team will be assigned a sorcerer apprentice as a knowledge advisor. That way, our new witchers can continue learning during their contracts. These apprentices have studied diligently at Aretuza or Ban Ard for ten, even twenty years. Their knowledge is more than enough to guide the teams through most situations.”
“And as for all of you…” Lann looked around the table, “you’ll each act as a team leader, guiding them through their early contracts in foreign lands.”
The witchers listened intently, slowly realizing what Lann was proposing.
Keldar was the first to speak. “You’re turning this entire process into a massive Trial of the Mountain, aren’t you?”
Lann nodded. “Exactly. Under the supervision of experienced witchers, each apprentice’s performance in completing contracts across various kingdoms will serve as their evaluation. Based on that, we’ll determine whether they truly earn the right to carry a witcher’s medallion.”
“If any of you still think this isn’t safe enough, then during the Trial of the Grasses, I’ll infuse each apprentice with the power of the Elder Blood. That will guarantee a 100% survival rate—and significantly enhance their strength.”
As he spoke, Lann turned to Jerome. “And at the same time, we’ll be able to identify those with the potential for the Griffin School.”
Jerome gave a slight nod. The Griffin School operated differently from the others. The Cat and Viper Schools, for example, tended to select slender and agile students in advance. Gerd of the Bear School favored burly youths.
But Griffin apprentices couldn’t be chosen ahead of time, since no one could use Signs before surviving the Trial of the Grasses—and therefore, their potential couldn’t be gauged. With Lann’s method—using Elder Blood (the system interface)—screening them became much easier.
Lann’s goal, however, was even more direct: he planned to contract all these apprentices as his followers, then send them across the North to gain experience—for him.
In the past, he had relied on absorbing ability points and unlocking abilities to grow stronger. But now, Lann would level up instead—steadily increasing his physique and mana reserves, one level at a time.
Once upgraded, with every percentage boost from passive skills and talent bonuses, he would enter a phase of explosive growth.
Three years had passed.
He knew—now was the time.
