Bear School Astartes

"Without a doubt, that fool Seward began causing trouble in the Mahakan Mountains, and the ever-expanding reason is the Squirrel Faction."

To speak disrespectfully to the highest-ranking person in this camp is, of course, not someone who follows the rules.

Accompanied by the rippling sound of water and the steamy mist in the large wooden tub, Triss stretched out one of her gracefully contoured and full legs from the bath.

The combination of sound and beauty made one involuntarily fantasize.

But unfortunately, the target of this beautiful leg’s temptation was merely standing at the tent’s entrance, looking out.

Just ten minutes ago, the Roaring Bear Head Pendant around Lann’s neck suddenly went berserk, pulling his neck in one direction.

Of course, given the Demon Hunter’s current physique, the necklace would likely break from brute force without causing his neck skin to redden.

But this is after all inherited from Bordeaux, the disappeared and out-of-print Bear School Necklace, which Lann still cherished.

Then he followed the force and was dragged towards a luxurious tent second only to Duke Seward’s in the camp.

Not all female warlocks live lavishly; witches often appear in marshy wilds or lonely high mountains.

But there’s no doubt that a well-known and status-holding female warlock lives a life that amazes people.

And Triss Merigold, "The Fourteenth from the Hill," Temerian Royal Family Advisor.

Her magic might seem immature and her mana insufficient in the eyes of Margaret or Tishaya. But in terms of fame and status, she’s definitely not low.

This tent almost resembles a house.

The warm candlelight filled the space surrounded by thick felt.

Inside there’s a messy desk, a soft large bed, a bookshelf full of books and scrolls, a large bath tub, and even a rack specifically for ivory ornaments.

When Lann was pulled in by the necklace, Triss’s large bathtub was directly facing him, the female warlock’s water-bathed body unguardedly spread, resting on the four edges of the tub. Her face bore an ambiguous and passionate smile.

The Demon Hunter took off his hooded cloak, placed it aside, and calmly walked to the desk, pouring himself a glass of brandy.

"You call Seward a fool..." Lann took a sip from the glass, "But no matter how foolish, he wouldn’t ignore those obviously abnormal phenomena, would he?"

"To exterminate or drive away all living beings in a mountain region, is this something the Squirrel Faction can accomplish?"

The female warlock waved her hand, and Lann’s glass of brandy leisurely floated away, landing in Triss’s hand.

Triss’s sense of humor was as peculiar as ever. She laughed uproariously as if she won some game, her voice blending allure with youthful vigor.

"What’s that saying... people will eventually believe a lie if it’s repeated often enough?"

"Seward lacks the courage to visit the scene, and who surrounds him? The White Rose Knight Order, rare believers of Eternal Fire within Temeria."

"The Squirrel Faction says it so frequently they fooled themselves, let alone Seward?"

Triss took a sip from where Lann’s lips had touched earlier, her body experiencing a delightful shiver.

The chaos magic power on Lann was somewhat too sensitive for her.

"So you’re saying, most of the gear they brought this time is to deal with elves, not monsters? Ha, nice."

Lann chuckled with a sarcastic tone.

"Triss, how long have you been here, did you discover anything?"

Seeing the Demon Hunter was not ’in a hurry’, Triss also became slightly more serious.

She casually rippled the water, speaking.

"In the Mahakan Mountains, around the area already decimated, there’s something unusual."

"What kind of unusual?"

"I sensed it from afar with magic power," Triss’s arm extended from the water, waving casually, "The magic power in that area... it’s cruel. Cruel and distorted."

"You’re implying," Lann pondered with his hand supporting his chin, "a curse might have occurred there?"

"But it doesn’t mean much; the Mahakan Mountains have many magic power convergence points, and in a region where all life has perished, a curse appearing is normal."

"We don’t know whether the curse occurred first, causing the fauna to perish, or if the mass death of creatures led to the curse."

Lann shook his head. If Triss were to delve deeper into that area for investigation, considering the female warlock’s magical level, more information could be obtained.

However, before coming here, Triss probably didn’t dare to dive too deep into the Mahakan Mountains.

Not to mention how dangerous the area where life has perished is itself, toxic insects, monsters, dangerous terrain in the mountain are enough to kill a lone female warlock without support.

But since he’s here, the upcoming actions will be much more convenient.

According to the intelligence he currently possesses, the abnormal area’s size is still expanding and infringing on the Ponta River Valley region.

It’s really not far now. It’s best to solve it promptly.

-----------------

Early the next morning, Lann emerged from Triss’s large tent.

In front of him was a busy, noisy scene.

Everyone was dismantling things, then loading them onto carts or mule carts.

The ground was trampled into muddy slush.

Just as the Demon Hunter lifted the tent flap, he happened to see a White Rose Knight looking at Triss’s large tent with a dangerous and disgusted expression.

A scarred face, the knight who served as Seward’s order officer last night.

Unlike the usual strong men whose eyes are filled with body lust when they see a Female Warlock, despite their apprehension and fear.

He stood beside Seward’s tent, his gaze filled only with pure hatred and hostility.

It was not hatred directed at Triss, but hatred for the Warlock group.

Upon seeing Lann emerge from the tent, his eyes bore even more disgust.

But he did nothing directly to Lann, only waved his hand to call over a steward.

His eyes unfalteringly and unblinkingly stared at Lann, tilting his head to instruct the steward with a few words, then turned away.

"So I guess that’s why I’m sharing a carriage with you."

Lann sat on the wagon seat loaded with armaments and rations, talking to Zoltan, who held the reins nearby.

"Well, you’re truly unlucky." Zoltan sat beside Lann like a child, yet still candidly mocked him.

Dwarves are always blunt and straightforward.

"But I admire you, daring to bed a Female Warlock! Those women are more poisonous than yellow-tailed scorpions!"

The dwarf, with his short mohawk, scratched his chest beneath his collar.

"A guy like you, well, our dwarf women surely wouldn’t have eyes for you, that I’m sure of."

Lann smirked under his hood.

Dwarf women also have beards and are no different in build from male dwarves. Yet, male dwarves always feel that males of other species are coveting their women.

It’s almost a kind of collective psychological disorder.

At this moment, wagons were traveling on the rocky road, with the cliff to their right.

Most of the drivers leaned forward nervously, trying to get a better view to keep the wheels on the narrow road and maintain a reasonable distance from the cliff on the other side.

Beneath the cliff of the canyon lay the Ponta River, with white foam surging between the rocks.

They were the reconnaissance team at the forefront of the caravan, mostly consisting of dwarves led by Yalpan Ziglin.

Along with Clifford raiders who had shared alcohol by the campfire last night, and Sachia.

Duke Seward surrounded by White Rose Knights, Triss happily riding beside him, indifferent to the disgusted looks of the surrounding White Rose Knights.

Behind them was the supply convoy, making deafening noise.

Seward was an old man with a slight baldness, but still with shoulder-length hair, wearing a crown on his arrogant and clearly weary head.

"So, it seems we’re implicated too? Just because we drank by the campfire together last night?"

Buchet, riding a horse, spoke with a grim expression.

"Bullshit! So we didn’t even enjoy the big soft bed of the Female Warlock, yet we have to bear the risk?"

He spoke while vigilantly glancing around, checking every bush and forest along the path.

Lann thought he wasn’t wary of monsters.

Amidst the ’clatter’ of wheels against rocks, a sound of hooves approached from behind the group.

A knight in a red cape with a White Rose insignia on the left shoulder rode without a helmet, a scar barely visible under his loose hair.

"Knight Thales!" yelled Yalpan, driving another wagon, "What wind brought you to this humble forward reconnaissance team? Duke Seward’s orders?"

The dwarf’s fiery temper made them sound as if they’d fight at any teasing, lacking subtle satire.

But now, the temper of the White Rose Knight was even fiercer.

"Shut up, you dwarf."

Thales’s whip snapped on the edge of Yalpan’s wagon seat, with a loud crack between the whip and wood.

The dwarves almost instantly ’sprang’ up, hands reaching for their weapons.

Yet, it was Yalpan, nearly struck, who stood up immediately, motioning for the dwarves to calm their tempers, though his own bearded face was dark and grim.

Thales sneered, the scar on his face twisting like a centipede. His fearless gaze towards the dwarves was merely mocking.

"You should address him as Prince Seward! Fools!"

"The prince pays you, grants you the honor of moving forward with him, you’d better not squander it."

"Do your job as this reconnaissance team."

After Thales finished speaking, he turned and rode back to Seward’s side with a sneer.

As if he had come over just to make a random, nonsensical declaration, merely to flaunt his superiority and authority.

However...

"I think he intends to use the entire forward squad as a target," Buchet said grimly, his eyes still darting around alertly as he affixed a studded throat guard to his neck.