Bear School Astartes-Chapter 806 - 789: Old Demon Hunter’s Farewell

"Seems like not very welcoming to outsiders, Mr. Lambert."

Lann leaned one elbow on the table, joking with Geralt.

Belengar smirked and commented, "In every batch of demon hunters, there always seems to be some troublemakers."

The White Wolf appeared relaxed, "Don’t call him Mr. Lambert, his mouth doesn’t deserve that title. Just call him Lambert."

The castle’s main hall door swung open, and two tall figures and one short silhouette filed in.

Just as the door opened, Lambert’s mocking and sarcastic voice echoed through.

"Oh, indeed, Lambert doesn’t deserve to be called ’Mr.’ Only our renowned ’White Wolf’ Geralt is worthy of the title ’Mr.’, isn’t it?"

The demon hunters’ extraordinary senses allowed them to hear the discussions inside before they even entered.

Lann and Belengar turned their heads towards the door from the table.

Vesemir was just as he always was, dressed in his solid and sturdy mixed armor, his ale nose looking even more pronounced than last time, appearing more flushed.

Ciri was at the age of growth, and though it had only been half a year since she was last seen, she had grown a bit taller. Her mouse-gray hair was tied into a small braid.

She wore a one-piece leather outfit that seemed to be sewn... or rather stuck together.

The workmanship could make a tailor, who values craftsmanship, scream in terror and despair. The only relatively new and fitting items on her were the knee-high boots and belt.

She wasn’t equipped with a sword.

Lann and Belengar couldn’t help but mentally compare the current Ciri to the woman they met at the Crossroads Inn... she really is growing into a young woman.

Meanwhile, carrying a dead goat on his shoulder, was undoubtedly Lambert.

He wore a black leather jacket; underneath was a mix of chainmail and padded armor, with plate armor pieces inserted at key locations.

Standard demon hunter-style gear.

His face bore a long narrow scar, and he sported a buzz cut, though his hairline had receded into an M shape.

Though he looked younger than Geralt, in terms of hairline, Geralt’s was much more favorable than his.

Demon hunters like Lann, who had no scars, were indeed rare.

Facing various strange monsters, a careless encounter could leave a scar that remains ferocious even after healing.

Geralt had several scars on his face, but they weren’t usually obvious or unsightly.

But once magic potion is used, when the toxins gather in the blood vessels, besides gathering around the eye sockets, they also linger on the scars.

Thus the originally subtle scars would turn light black on the pale skin, becoming conspicuous and fierce.

"Ah! Lann!"

Ciri was the first to notice the person seated at the large table by the fireplace. She exclaimed in delight and ran towards Lann.

Girls generally develop earlier than boys, and though Ciri was only twelve or thirteen, she was already around one and a half meters tall.

But in front of Lann’s stature, she still seemed like a petite child.

Even seated, Lann was taller than her, so when Ciri rushed over, the young demon hunter simply reached out, and Ciri easily collided into his embrace.

The two shared a simple but enthusiastic hug, and Ciri bounced joyfully from his arms, feet not touching the ground, laughing cheerfully.

Life here at Ker Morhan suited her well; she never wanted to be a conventional ’pampered princess’, and the demon hunter’s training suited her preferences... except for the theoretical knowledge.

But she’s at the age of craving social interaction, and Ker Morhan is a desolate place, on the fringes of civilized world.

So seeing a familiar face here, even if not someone as close as Lann, made her happy.

And now that it’s Lann who came, she was even happier.

"Did you come to see me? This is wonderful!"

Ciri skipped around Lann, grabbing Rong Buqiu sitting beside him.

Three-Floral Kitten let out a startled ’meow’ at the sudden action, instinctively flailing its four little paws in mid-air.

"Did you bring me a cat? And even dressed it in armor!"

Ciri felt thrilled.

But then...

"Don’t meow! Rong Buqiu isn’t a toy meow!"

"..." Ciri’s laughter abruptly stopped, staring blankly at the Three-Floral Kitten in her arms.

Meanwhile, Lann, Geralt, Belengar’s raised hands were still up.

"Wow! The cat talked! It’s a monster! Uncle Vesemir! It’s a monster!"

Despite Rong Buqiu’s cuteness, Ciri, educated by demon hunters, instinctively let go and ran aside.

It must be said, this kind of reaction is what many ordinary people cannot do when facing strange monsters.

But Vesemir, having weathered countless storms, was indeed the old demon hunter.

He first patted Ciri’s head, then smiled at Lann.

"I didn’t expect you to grow up like this, Lann."

The oldest known demon hunter looked up and down at Lann who stood up to greet him. Last time they met, Lann’s physique hadn’t surpassed humans yet.

Yet Vesemir welcomed him as the castle host.

"Welcome, Lann. Looks like you’ve experienced many interesting adventures during this time."

He glanced at Rong Buqiu who landed from Ciri’s arms, adjusting its helmet by itself.

"Even the little cat, you’re welcome."

"Thank you meow!"

Rong Buqiu politely thanked them, making the newcomers click their tongues in wonder.

Then Vesemir’s gaze shifted to another old demon hunter who turned his head away, drinking on his own.

"We haven’t seen each other for a long time, Belengar. You’re quite skilled now, no longer at the level where a sword you make breaks after two swings, like in the past." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

Vesemir stepped forward, patting Belengar’s shoulder, with a gentle and mellow tone.

"How does it feel to be home?"

When Vesemir’s hand was placed on him, Lann could distinctly see Belengar’s body trembled a little.

"Not great, this isn’t my home, just a place with terrifying memories."

Belengar said coldly.

Lambert, who had just placed the goat on the ground, loudly agreed without straightening his back.

"Ha! That’s right! It’s a crappy place."

But Vesemir and Belengar ignored him.

After a brief silence, Belengar handed the wine glass in his hand to Vesemir standing beside him.

In the conversation between the two old men, there was only the crackling sound of firewood burning in the nearby huge fireplace.

"At least this wine is decent."

Vesemir looked at the old buddy in front of him, smiled suddenly as he took the glass and drank it quickly.

"You’ve found my barrel of Niflgaard lemon wine, but it’s not good enough; the year on the barrel is one I altered."

Vesemir lightly spoke, under Geralt’s dazed gaze.

"Did you really think someone as little as Geralt could see through me? Hahaha!"