TitoVillar
patreon
TWL Chapter 377: A Red-Haired Student, and a Watchful Princess
🕑 Added 2025-05-10 22:20:15 +0000 UTC“Troll! How many times do I have to tell you—that’s alcohol for disinfecting! Disinfecting! It’s strategic medical supply, not your afternoon snack!”
A hoarse roar echoed through the camp.
The one being scolded was a terrifying creature covered in hardened stone—one that scholars would classify under the broader category of ogroids.
Yet at this moment, the monster looked no more threatening than a lost child. Hunched over and confused, it repeatedly thumped its head with its massive fists, wearing an expression of deep guilt.
“Alcohol… better than wine. Tastes good,”
mumbled the towering creature known as Trollmo, whom Lann had brought back from the Kaer Morhen mountains.
“Supplies... Trollmo forgot…”
“Damn it! This isn’t the first time I’ve told you this! Do you drink by pouring wine into your brain and killing your memory like it’s a disease?!”
The one shouting—despite only reaching up to Trollmo’s thigh—was a halfling, furiously stomping in frustration.
He had a wild tangle of red hair, a matching red beard, and bare feet. He looked ready to leap into the air and sock the thick-headed creature who refused to learn a lesson no matter how many times it was repeated.
“Professor Milo, please, calm down…”
Everyone knew Milo couldn’t actually hurt Trollmo, no matter how much he wore himself out trying. On the contrary, he was more likely to injure himself.
Seeing the situation escalate, one of his close students rushed forward to restrain him.
The student had hair redder than fire—but a temperament as calm as still water.
“Shani, let go of me! This time I really need to teach that idiot a lesson!”
Though Milo was small, he was stocky and strong, far more powerful than the still-young Shani.
Only after venting some of his anger by landing a few kicks—not hard ones—on Trollmo’s stony legs did his other students swoop in and, with well-practiced coordination, pull him back and separate him from the ogroid.
A dozen more students quickly stepped up to herd Trollmo out of Milo’s sight. The big fellow, still dazed, didn’t quite understand what he’d done wrong and reluctantly shuffled away, clearly unwilling to leave.
This was the scene Lann walked in on—and it delighted him beyond words.
Milo Vanderbeck, nicknamed 'Rusty', a renowned medical instructor from Oxenfurt, and future head of all Northern field hospitals during the war—had actually come to Cintra!
The arrival of the Duke of Cintra instantly drew everyone’s attention.
The chaotic scene quickly settled into order. All the medical students and bystanders stopped what they were doing and respectfully saluted Lann.
Trollmo’s eyes lit up as he cried,
“Lann! Friend!”
He stomped forward so loudly the guards’ hands jumped to their weapons, half expecting an assassination attempt.
But Lann calmly waved a hand to signal the guards to stand down. Then, with a loud thump, the Lion of Cintra and the massive ogroid slammed into each other in a heavy embrace, pounding each other’s backs like old war buddies.
“Lann—stronger now,” Trollmo beamed. “Friend!”
After exchanging a few hearty thumps with Trollmo, Lann turned his attention to Milo, Shani, and the group of unmistakably academic-looking youths standing behind them.
“Apologies, Master Milo. I’ll speak to Trollmo and make sure he stops drinking the alcohol—it listens to me.”
Lann smiled warmly, and several of the young female students blushed and looked down.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you here.”
As he spoke, Lann glanced around behind the halfling doctor, as if searching for more scholars.
“Last time I saw you, you were still a count. Now you’re a duke... I’m not sure whether I should congratulate you,” Milo said, shaking his head. His tone now carried a formal politeness that hadn’t been present during their days at Oxenfurt.
Back at the academy, he had never feared authority. But now, having set foot in Cintra, he was a guest on Lann’s territory—and would show due respect.
As for whether he should congratulate Lann, the meaning was twofold:
One, for the elevation in title.
And two, for inheriting a realm that was now in such dire straits.
“No need to look back anymore,” Milo said, shaking his head.
“Those formulas you gave me completely dazzled the academics. Even the dean asked whether we should arrange a faculty interview to offer you a teaching post.”
“When they found out you were a count from Cintra, quite a few of the older scholars were eager to come and discuss academic matters with you—
But the war made them back down. Most of them are aging professors with vast knowledge, but they’re too frail for such a journey.”
Lann nodded in understanding.
“Then once peace returns, I’ll write to them myself—invite them here, personally.”
“Ha! They’ll be overjoyed,” Milo laughed.
“There are quite a few physicists and architectural theorists among them. Their work could be a great help in rebuilding the country.”
The halfling then gestured behind him.
“As for now, the only ones bold enough to come are myself and a few fearless medical students. This is an ideal place for practical training—and they'll have access to far more 'specimens' than they ever would at school.”
Milo broke into hearty laughter without the slightest concern for how blunt his words sounded.
But to Lann, it was music to his ears.
Even if they were just interns, they were still proper medical students from Oxenfurt—
Far more reliable than the uncertified healers wandering about the villages, towns, or even cities of this era.
With these students in Cintra, the standard of care and logistics for the soldiers had risen by more than just one level.
“Thank you for your support, Milo,” Lann said earnestly, bowing his head.
“I’ll assign my most trusted attendants and elite guards to protect you. You’ll be treated with the highest respect in Cintra.”
Hearing this, Milo gave a serious nod in return—then burst into another laugh.
Outside Oxenfurt, scholars like him rarely received genuine respect from nobles or rulers. Lann’s sincerity meant a great deal to him.
“By the way, Duke Lannister...” Milo leaned in and lowered his voice mischievously.
“Aside from those truly here to save lives on the frontlines, quite a few others came drawn by your reputation. The Lion of Cintra, after all…”
…
Nearby, Ciri, who had jogged over to catch up with Lann, narrowed her eyes slightly.
She scanned the crowd of medical students.
The male students looked on with respectful awe. Ciri had seen that kind of look plenty of times—probably from hearing too many ballads in taverns.
Even academic types couldn’t help but admire a real knight.
The female students had hopeful, dreamy expressions. Ciri had seen that too—Cintra was full of girls like that.
She wasn’t worried. That kind of gaze would never lead to anything with Lann.
But then, her eyes locked onto someone.
Shani, the young red-haired student standing behind Milo.
The look in her eyes wasn’t just admiration—it carried something deeper.
That kind of look doesn’t appear out of nowhere. It only forms when there’s a story behind it.
And what was more...
Ciri frowned slightly.
Why is it always the redheads?
...
The next day.
In the study of the lord’s estate in Brokilon Town.
Lann sat behind the desk, with House and Milva standing at his side. Across from him sat the old steward, Enns, and the attendant, Levin.
Levin, a native of Brokilon Town, had not accompanied Lann to Skellige. Possessing a decent aptitude for both diplomacy and internal affairs, Levin had been left behind to assist Enns and receive further training.
At the moment, having worked alongside the old steward for some time, Levin was reporting to his liege.
“Miss Yuna has been consolidating the smiths’ efforts ever since arriving in Cintra. After receiving the armor you brought back from Mahakam yesterday, she’s been busy counting the sets, verifying the quality, and adjusting the sizing on some of them. Initial preparations should be completed in three days, at which point soldier outfitting drills can begin.”
“During this time, I also attempted to negotiate with the… ladies of Brokilon Forest. They still rejected the proposal to share the waters of Brokilon Spring for treating the wounded, and likewise refused to dispatch archers to replenish our forces. At present, they’re only willing to provide treatment to a select few individuals—yourself included—if injured.”
Lann rubbed his temples. “Forget it. Once dryads leave the forest, there’s not much they can do on the battlefield anyway, given their small numbers. With the druids from the Oaklands and the field medics from Oxenfurt, we at least have basic care for the wounded covered.”
“I’ll speak to Eithné myself when I get the chance.”
Standing nearby, the old steward Enns gave a subtle nod as he listened to Levin’s composed and well-organized report.
“What about the members of my ‘Lion Pride’? Have you kept up with their recent movements?” Lann asked next.
Also a member of the Lion Pride himself, Levin was well-prepared. “House and Milva, along with Bill, the warrior you recruited from Skellige, have all been accompanying you directly, so there’s nothing to report on that front…”
“Lady Iris has been staying by Her Highness the Princess’s side during this period—teaching her art while continuing to create her own work. In addition to her personal pieces, she’s produced a large number of posters and illustrations, all of which were distributed around the town per your instructions. Every commander deployed on campaign now carries at least one of those posters.”
“As for those… ‘trolls’ who came to Cintra, they’ve been helping with city defenses and construction projects, boosting our efficiency severalfold. There have been some minor communication issues now and then, but everything has stayed within manageable bounds. You witnessed it yourself yesterday.”
“When Miss Nanomi first arrived, her unique race did cause a stir among the townsfolk. A Witcher master from the Wolf School kept a close eye on her for a while, and later publicly assured the citizens of her harmlessness. However, the lady has taken a liking to wandering deep into Brokilon Forest. Lately, I heard she crossed through it and headed toward Sodden, apparently investigating some kind of Elven burial ground…”
“These are the Lion Pride members currently in Cintra.”
“In Novigrad, Mr. Kiyan frequently sends letters, saying he’s made many friends. From what Mr. Zoltan occasionally reports from there, Kiyan is starting to gain a bit of fame in the city.”
“At first, Ace in Aretuza was only able to communicate with us via Miss Triss. But lately, he’s begun writing letters himself—it seems his situation has significantly improved. Those letters are strictly one-way reports meant for you, and we haven’t dared open them.”
Lann gave a nod and picked up the letters Ace had sent from Aretuza. He was Lann’s most distant and most dangerous piece on the board. And yet, he had been steadily completing system-assigned missions, and the amount of experience he had provided to Lann was second to none.
How he managed it all—only the gods knew.
