Beast Slayer Online: Initialization
Copyright© 2026 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 179: Secrets Beneath Aretuza Silk
Lannor rode Pope once more, the horse he had not seen in quite some time, alongside Margarita along one of Velen’s dirt roads.
Only a single sword hung across his back now, the sword of the Lady of the Lake. The Bear School steel sword had suffered nothing worse than a small nick, but in a prolonged clash of steel, a flaw that small could become fatal. He had left it behind in Dark Water under Berengar’s care for repair.
“The Lady of the Lake won’t be angry that you replaced Arondight’s scabbard so casually, will she?”
Margarita swayed gently with her horse’s gait, amusement dancing in her voice.
When the Lady of the Lake had bestowed the magnificent longsword upon him, it had come with an equally splendid scabbard, wood adorned with gold fittings and set with tiny pearls.
Yet the moment they departed the little fishing village of Auridon, the ornate scabbard had vanished from Lannor’s back, replaced by a plain wooden one wrapped in fish skin.
The craftsmanship was meticulous, every corner carefully finished, but its value was surely less than a tenth of the original.
“The Lady embodies the Five Knightly Virtues. She’s not that petty.”
Wind swept through Velen’s fields, stirring Lannor’s silver hair like a banner.
“And besides...”
A smile touched his lips.
“A friend gave me this scabbard. That makes it worth more than gold or silver.”
When Lannor had arrived carrying only a single sword, the villagers had assumed he had fallen on hard times. They knew they could not forge a worthy blade for him, but that did not stop them from trying to help.
So they had rushed about in a frenzy, pooling whatever they could. Despite Lannor’s attempts to stop them, they insisted on making him a new scabbard, just as they once had.
The fish skin had come from Bernie’s latest catch. Mrs. Donna had stitched it together. Old Aaron had provided a piece of excellent hardwood. The village blacksmith had spent three hours rushing the fittings.
None of those things were worth much by Velen’s standards.
But every piece had passed through the hands of Lannor’s friends in Auridon.
When they presented the finished scabbard to him, he had not hesitated for even a heartbeat. Off came the Lady of the Lake’s ornate gift. Arondight slid into the humble scabbard as though the gold and pearls had been nothing more than roadside pebbles.
Perhaps, to him, they were.
Certainly they weighed less than sincere gratitude.
Margarita had spent half a day in that dilapidated fishing village watching the witcher who had slaughtered Count Stessa’s household laugh and speak with a group of Velen fishermen.
When the villagers had gathered to see him off, she found her gaze lingering on him a little longer than before.
The two of them continued across Velen’s treacherous lands.
Times had changed.
Once, Lannor had needed to carefully divide packs of drowners to survive. Now he could carve his way through the heavily guarded estate of a count.
And this time he traveled beside the rectoress of Aretuza herself.
For most travelers, Velen remained a place where every journey was a wager against death.
For them, it had become merely inconvenient.
When they arrived in Gors Velen once more, Margarita led him through the city without the slightest obstacle and into Aretuza itself.
“Welcome, Witcher. Welcome back to Aretuza.”
Tissaia, former Rectoress of Aretuza and still one of the academy’s pillars, stood waiting for them beyond the great bridge leading into the palace.
Though she had lived at least four or five centuries, the arch-sorceress remained immaculate. Every fold of her attire sat in perfect symmetry, and her beautiful face carried its usual severe precision.
“How honored I feel, mentor.”
Margarita stepped forward with a teasing smile.
“I never received this kind of welcome after returning from a trip.”
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