Bear School Astartes-Chapter 805 - 788: Lambert
"You let a little girl run the assassin’s road?"
Belengar stared wide-eyed at Geralt.
And Geralt wasn’t the least bit guilty.
"Weren’t we about her age when we were running the assassin’s road?"
Geralt leaned back in his chair, propped his legs up on the table, and sipped the aged Niflgaard lemon wine in his hand.
"Besides, Vesemir is watching her, and Lambert is out hunting—it’s safe. She’s not a fragile porcelain doll. Remember how she got that scar on her face?"
"Now is the right age for her to learn; there’s nothing else to teach her in the Demon Hunters’ castle. But if we don’t want her to waste away, at the very least, we should teach her some means to protect herself in this harsh world."
Lann and Belengar nodded silently.
A person’s learning ability gradually declines, even for transformed beings like Demon Hunters who have long lifespans.
It’s in youth that one should learn more; otherwise, even developing intelligence becomes a problem.
Those without education grow up muddleheaded—most of the commoners in this world are like that.
During conversations, they are dull, inarticulate, illogical, with their emotions prone to big and sudden swings... When Lann first arrived in this world, he found communicating with them to be quite challenging.
"Being educated" in this era is a luxury right.
While the Demon Hunters’ knowledge is somewhat "niche," in terms of height, it is ultimately a system of knowledge established by several outstanding Warlocks from centuries ago.
Probably only the private tutors hired by great nobles and wealthy merchants for their descendants, or places like Ossenford University, could claim to be stronger.
"I didn’t expect...though I knew you had to leave someone at Ker Morhan to take care of Ciri, didn’t expect you left three people?"
Lann hadn’t heard of the name Lambert, but he should be a member of the Wolf School.
"What now, are you all full-time nannies and not going out to make money?"
Lann raised his glass towards Geralt, teasingly.
"Our school is not one that’s cold and heartless toward companions, Lann."
Geralt chuckled lowly, retorting with "Wolf School’s trademark sarcasm."
He also knew that Lann had no fondness for his school, which is why he spoke so freely.
After the banter, his tone turned serious.
"When I brought Ciri back, I said it was my ’destiny,’ and my mates didn’t say a word."
"They know Ciri’s identity, but no one cares. Eskel voluntarily took on the outside work, knowing it would take a lot of effort to raise this little girl at Ker Morhan and that someone had to keep an eye on her so she wouldn’t get snatched by the gryphons or vampires in the mountains."
"So now we take turns going out to find work, using the money earned to support those staying at Ker Morhan. Eskel was the first to go out."
Lann said nothing, but Belengar’s eyes were filled with memories.
It seemed as if, in this school castle he once wanted desperately to escape from, he recalled some warmth buried deep in his memories.
"I can lend you some money for emergencies,"
Belengar whispered, tracing the edge of his wine glass with his finger while keeping his head down.
"Whenever you can pay me back, it’s not a big deal for me right now. Raising a little girl, a Child of Destiny, isn’t much of an expense."
Geralt shook his head.
"No, thank you, Master Belengar. Honestly... we’re not exactly close; we haven’t even met. Maybe Vesemir can chat with you?"
"But I can’t accept your loan. After all, even though it’s tough now, we’re managing. If things get really bad, can’t we still support a little girl even by working as dock laborers?"
Geralt’s words were earnest and heartfelt, with nothing much to criticize.
But key was that he said ’work as dock laborers’ at the end... as soon as he said this, Lann almost choked on the wine coming out of his nose.
"Cough, cough!"
Geralt looked quizzically at Lann, who was choking on his drink, clearly unaware he had said something wrong.
And as expected, the nostalgia on Belengar’s face quickly turned into a blank expression.
"Oh, well, hang in there then."
His attitude changed so swiftly that it left Geralt dumbstruck.
"Ahem, are you here this time for... the materials you mentioned last time?"
Though he didn’t know what he had misspoken, but Geralt, having been a Demon Hunter for decades, easily changed the topic.
Thus, Lann picked up the conversation, sharing what was going on outside.
"Haha, it’s the first time I’ve seen someone becoming famous and then having to hide."
The White Wolf said lightly, "But given all that you’ve done, you surely deserve those tales, don’t you?"
Lann shook his head disdainfully, "Do you remember those famous people you’ve met who didn’t hide but brazenly enjoyed it—how did they all end up?"
The White Wolf really rolled his eyes, reminiscing for a bit before saying, "Well... they’re all dead. Killed by countless challengers or disgraced."
"Exactly..." Lann shrugged, without saying more.
It was still early in the evening. Geralt retrieved a large piece of cheese from the kitchen behind the fireplace and snacked on it.
During this time, Lann shared stories of his adventures in the monster world, while Geralt spoke about Ciri’s life since arriving here. 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂
Belengar was more concerned with how Vesemir would evaluate the pair of Valerian Steel Swords once Geralt brought them back.
The group chatted until dusk gradually set in.
"Haha! A Deer-headed Spirit enhanced to that extent, don’t even mention seeing one, I don’t even want to hear about it."
"Ancient! Ancient Deer-headed Spirit."
Lann sternly corrected Geralt’s term, refusing to let it downplay the youth’s achievements.
"Alright, Ancient Deer-headed Spirit. You say it left behind undiscovered totems? Oh, I really hope I’m not dragged into their random teleportation technique the next time I take on such a job."
Geralt laughed with schadenfreude.
At his age in this profession, he’s long since ceased to care about how impressive or grand achievements sound.
The main concern is the cost-effectiveness.
He’d rather all his missions involve monsters like ghouls, zombies, and water ghosts and still get paid for griffons and petrifying chicken snakes.
Lann’s experiences seemed pretty unlucky to him.
Just then, there was some commotion outside the main building of the castle.
"There’s an extra horse in the stable. I bet someone’s arrived—it’s a purebred Codwin Warhorse. Could match Eskel’s Scorpion."
A relatively young male voice said.
"Who did you invite this time, you benevolent hearted Vesemir?"
To which Lann recognized the voice of the oldest known seasoned Demon Hunter replied.
"Can’t you be honest when talking to me? Didn’t I beat you enough during training, Lambert?"
"I already said, I haven’t invited anyone recently. I have to watch Ciri, can’t go out."
"I can vouch for that!" The little girl’s voice was weak, sounding exhausted, but her tone was cheerful.
"Alright~ you vouch for it." Lambert imitated Ciri’s voice mockingly.
Though Lann hadn’t met Lambert, Lann always felt like there was a sense of mockery and irony constantly in his tone.
"I just want to say, I managed to hunt only this one goat, and if it’s not enough, that person better do it themselves!"
