Bear School Astartes

”So you got embarrassed last night and now you want to drag me out today?”

Belengar rode on Bopai following behind Lann, his long face showing a hesitant expression.

When Bopai could no longer handle his physique and was no longer a good match in size, Lann entrusted it to Belengar.

Demon Hunters love swords, armor, and horses,

because these three things are closely related to their careers; loving them is loving their own lives.

Although Belengar’s career as a Demon Hunter had effectively retired, his love for and care of horses remained.

Lann felt reassured entrusting Bopai, a long-time companion, to him.

”What do you mean ’got embarrassed last night’? That’s misleading! It was at dinner! Dinner!”

Mr. Lan turned his head, arguing defensively.

”You can’t imagine how impressive I was last night!”

Belengar nodded silently.

Men always get particularly persistent about certain things.

Yet at the same time, the corners of the retired Old Demon Hunter’s mouth curled into a smile.

He was pleased to see Lann, whom they hadn’t seen for a while, in good spirits again.

Others, upon hearing reports of Demon Hunters performing like legends on the battlefield, either doubted it or got excessively excited.

But only Lann’s true friends, those who love him, genuinely worried.

They feared the blood and filth of the battlefield would crush him.

Killing carries pressure, as long as the killer is a psychologically normal human.

Geralt might not even blink when taking down three or four bandits, but he would probably never slaughter a defenseless farmer’s family.

The Demon Hunters are simply honed by their profession to be a little ’numb’ when it comes to killing. But the normal pressures are all still there.

Belengar especially understood that feeling.

So seeing Lann was the same as before they last saw each other, cheerful, upright, able to joke... the Old Demon Hunter felt reassured.

”What unusual thing did you bring back this time?”

As Belengar rode on Bopai, his head could barely level with Lann.

”This little cat?”

The Old Demon Hunter tilted to the side on his horse, reaching out to poke the helmet on the kitten’s head.

”Hello Meow! I’m Velvet Ball Meow!”

Velvet Ball, who was perched on Lann’s shoulder, adjusted its helmet and waved at Belengar.

”Whoa! It can talk! Is it a little Cat Person?”

The Old Demon Hunter exclaimed in surprise.

”Didn’t you get it out of the Northern Reserve? Be careful, this thing is rare.”

In this world, there is a species of little Cat People, but unlike the Elu cats, they didn’t even have the digitigrade leg structure, only a cat face and long fur.

Belengar was just making a wild guess, having never seen one.

”Oh, and even if I did get it from there, so what?”

Lann calmly retorted.

Belengar was momentarily at a loss, shaking his head and saying.

”That seems... not much at all. Except maybe some small thugs might cause trouble, but I bet even Kovir would want you to go investigate the reserve.”

”Then that’s settled?”

Lann shrugged, causing the little cat on his shoulder to sway its head too.

”Besides... Velvet Ball is a warrior too, don’t underestimate it.”

”Don’t underestimate me Meow!”

The Three-Floral Kitten was delighted to be acknowledged.

”Alright, alright.” Belengar nodded carelessly, admitting his own limited knowledge long ago.

After all, Lann always brought back strange and unusual things from other worlds, and he was used to it.

”So what did you want me for? From experience, I reckon you’d first have to spend several days settling something with the dean before going out on business?”

Belengar joked about men’s bawdy topics, but Lann did not join in with laughter.

Instead, he remained calm.

”Remember the promise I got from Vesemir?”

The mention of that name made the Old Demon Hunter raise an eyebrow.

”You want to go to Ker Morhan, to study Alzur and Maraspina’s journals? Why now? Winter’s long over, everyone should be out on jobs, the castle should be empty.”

”I feel I need deeper knowledge, and also need to lay low for a bit.”

Lann and the Old Demon Hunter were walking along the shoreline outside of Gos Velen City.

This beach’s width was limited; ten meters from the sea were high earth slopes and small woods.

Lann spoke as he found a broken tree to sit on.

”Lay low? You?” Belengar exaggerated, asking him. ”Aren’t you the bigshot now? Those minstrels in the taverns, if they don’t sing about that war for a day, won’t get a dime.”

”The drunkards could have their tongues swollen from drinking, yet hearing these stories still makes them cheer while puking.”

Belengar recounted stories that happened during Lann’s absence incessantly.

But Lann just gazed at the sea, cutting him off.

”That’s the problem, Belengar.”

”What?”

”I said: It’s this atmosphere that doesn’t feel right to me.”

Lann emphasized again, turning to look at Belengar on Bopai. Two pairs of cat eyes met.

”Veltrest met me when I returned, and his intelligence agency told him that many people are now trying to unearth the knowledge of the Witchers’ mutation surgeries.”

Lann straightforwardly explained the current situation, causing the Old Demon Hunter’s expression to freeze instantly.

Belengar wasn’t a smart man nor one sensitive to politics or intrigue.

He knew this about himself.

So when stories about Lann circulated with all kinds of embellishments, he didn’t feel particularly bothered, instead seeing it as a form of entertaining spectacle partly on his behalf.

But when it came to ”Demon Hunter mutation,” this guy immediately turned serious.

His intense displeasure towards Demon Hunters originated partly from his social rejection and the life-risking struggles he had to endure.

Additionally, it’s the haunting memories of pain during the mutation process.

None of the Demon Hunters, aside from sociopaths, could casually discuss the mutation processes they or others underwent.

The process was too cruel.

”Now you understand what fame can bring besides good things?”

Lann spread his hands toward Belengar.

The Old Demon Hunter rubbed his chin, saying.

”So you’re not just going to study the journals, but also to...”

”Seal off the Demon Hunter mutation knowledge, or at least warn the fellows to be cautious.”

Lann stated calmly.

”It was me who brought this exposure, can’t let it affect others.”

Belengar helplessly shook his head: ”So that’s why you haven’t shown up in town, or even gone to the workshop to say hi to Yuna and Fergus?”

”Alright, this really is urgent, let’s head to Ker Morhan in a couple of days. But...”

At this point, the Old Demon Hunter seemed a bit hesitant.

”Disposing of the mutation isn’t much for us, even if we have obsessions, it’s just about sentiment toward the discipline. Hardly anyone wants to continue that dreadful mutation surgery. But there’s a group... I think you should check them out.”