Wizard: This witcher is neglecting his duties.

Chapter 124 Brothers Reunite with the Direwolf

Kaer Mohenjo-daro Castle.

Geralt's hoarse yet sarcastic voice rang out.

"Hahaha, Lambert, you're out of cards now!"

"Look at my horn! Melee unit strength doubled, seventy-two points, you lost."

A few seconds later, Lambert said in frustration:

"Damn it, Geralt, you must have cheated. Drawing three horn cards in one game is such a coincidence."

Geralt wagged his finger smugly and said:

"Luck, it's just luck."

"I don't know why, but I always have really good luck when I play cards with you."

"Alright, stop being so fussy and hand over the bet. Twenty crowns is enough for me to buy a barrel of good wine."

Lambert reluctantly handed over the gold coins, then muttered:

"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have gambled so much. I saved up a year's worth of money, and it's not enough to cover just a few rounds of losses."

Geralt, however, ignored his brother's apology. He smirked at Lambert and said:

"It's alright, Lambert. If you're short on money, you can borrow some from Wayne. Aren't we going on a mission to Vizima with him in the spring?"

"He must have offered you a high price; that kid's got money now."

Lambert, however, was dismissive of this, saying:

"You, Uncle Lambert, aren't so poor that you have to borrow money from your juniors."

Geralt chuckled and teased, saying:

"This winter is still long. When you've lost all your money and can't play Gwent anymore, let's see if you're still so stubborn."

While the Gwent duo were bickering, Wayne was also practicing swordsmanship with Eskel in the training grounds outside the castle.

This winter, practicing swordsmanship is one of Wayne's main tasks in Kaer Morhen.

In terms of the strength of his signs, he should already be at the top level among all Witchers, but despite having top-notch physical attributes, his swordsmanship is only considered excellent and cannot compete with those true sword masters.

This is not a lack of speed or strength, but a gap in practical experience and various combat skills.

However, Eskel is definitely a master swordsman, and although he seems dull, he is generous in helping his brothers train. Moreover, he is experienced and steady in his actions, making him an excellent swordsmanship teacher.

Wayne had heard Geralt say that this guy never went to brothels, and his favorite type of woman was the kind with horns on her body. He was a bit of a repressed pervert in terms of personality.

Clang! Clang! Clang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

On the training field, the two men wielded iron training swords and fought back and forth, neither giving an inch.

Without using signs, Wayne could overpower Eskel in speed and strength, but he would often be overpowered by Eskel's special swordsmanship techniques or feints within two rounds.

This left Wayne somewhat frustrated, but he was also frantically absorbing these practical experiences.

As training time goes on, the difference in strength and speed may not be enough to completely defeat Eskel, but often when the two reach a certain limit in their high-intensity battle, Eskel will be defeated first due to exhaustion.

He waved his hand, wiped the sweat from his forehead, sat down on a nearby wooden stool, and said, panting heavily:

"I can't go on, I can't go on. Young people have more energy. I need to rest for a while."

Wayne, slightly out of breath, smiled and said:

"I just have the advantage of good physical strength, but according to the teacher, after you transplant that large red mutation inducer, your strength and agility should increase by a second time."

"By then, I shouldn't be able to suppress that aspect anymore."

Upon hearing Wayne mention this, Eskel smiled slightly and remarked with emotion:

"I have to thank you for this, brother. I've been searching for a large red mutation inducer for many years, but I haven't found a suitable one."

"I never expected that you would bring me such a big surprise after only a year away, and you're even willing to give it to me."

"Don't worry, when you need this, I'll definitely give you an even better one."

Wayne waved his hand dismissively and said:

"It's too formal to talk about these things. I'll need your help with the evil god quest at Lake Vijima soon. If it can help you improve your strength, it will be a good thing for me as well."

Eskel nodded, omitting the usual polite words, and simply said:

"No problem, just call me when the time comes. I'll probably be looking for commissions near the Kingdom of Temuria in the first half of the year."

Wayne smiled. The Wolf School brothers were all easy to talk to. When he asked for their help, no one had any objections and just asked casually.

Where, what monsters to fight, and when to come.

He wasn't worried at all that his brothers would cheat them, and they never talked about payment, which warmed Wayne's heart.

He took the magic flask from his waist, pressed a switch, switched to the iced cola compartment, tilted his head back and took several big gulps. The sweet taste, the refreshing iced texture, and the slightly bitter bubbles made him burp.

He moved the flask to the slot for the finest dwarven spirits, then handed it to Eskel, smiling as he said:

"Want a sip? The finest dwarven spirit, brewed by the dwarven blacksmith master O. Henry, who is quite famous among the Carbon Mountain dwarves."

Eskel raised an eyebrow. Although he had never heard of O. Henry, the dwarf brewmaster never disappointed those who loved spirits.

He took the wine pot, examined it in his hand for a moment, and then remarked.

"Amazing magical equipment."

Then he tilted his head back and took a large gulp. However, the strength of the premium dwarven liquor clearly exceeded his expectations. In less than half a minute, Eskel's face turned bright red, and he even felt a surge of heat emanating from his body. He closed his eyes and savored the taste for a long time, then exhaled a breath of stale air and said with a smile:

"This is really strong liquor! Wayne, how much do you have in this jug? Pour me a jug later, I really like the taste."

Wayne was certainly not stingy. In fact, compared to the high-proof dwarven spirits, he preferred mellow red wine and various sweet fruit wines. The few modern drinks he had were reserved for rewarding himself when he was in a good mood.

As the two were chatting, a tall, white-bearded old man walked in through the castle gate, wearing what appeared to be a bearskin coat.

Seeing the two people sweating profusely on the training field, a smile appeared on his lips as he spoke:

"That's right, Wayne, Eskel. Swordsmanship is what we Witchers make our living from, so we should practice it diligently."

"Geralt and Lambert are probably playing Gwent again, aren't they! Wayne, you shouldn't teach your brothers such a decadent game. It will only make them lazier and more addicted to pleasure."

Wayne shrugged, already used to Vesemir's lectures. He noticed the fluffy white fur ball tucked inside the old man's coat and couldn't help but ask:

"Teacher, what's that in your arms, a wolf cub?"

Vesemir stroked his white beard, nodded, and said:

"Didn't you say yesterday that you had read a book on beast taming from a druid?"

"I originally wanted to go to the mountaintop to find a winter eagle cub for you, but unfortunately I didn't find one. However, when I went to the wolf den, I found a newborn direwolf cub."

"This little guy is so strong from birth, he's definitely a good prospect. Whether it's guarding the house, fighting, or treasure hunting, he can be of great help to you in the future."

"However, without the right method, it is very difficult for ordinary people to tame such a dire wolf. Whether you can become its master depends on your own abilities."

Wayne immediately became interested upon hearing this. The Ice Wolf was a descendant of a wolf-type monster and an ordinary wolf after the convergence of celestial bodies, and could be considered a variant of the ordinary wolf.

Adult male dire wolves can grow to the size of wild lions and tigers, making them a well-known and rare ferocious beast in the northern kingdoms.

He reached out and took the snow-white wolf cub from the old hunter's arms. The little guy was probably only a little over a month old, covered in fur, and his eyes were not yet open. He was probably still nursing. As soon as he was taken out of the old witcher's warm embrace, he immediately began to tremble, and pitiful whimpers came from his little mouth.

I wonder where its parents went? Perhaps they were killed by Vesemir.

After seeing this adorable performance, Wayne immediately fell in love with the little guy.

He remembered the Chinese rural dog his family had in his previous life. Although it wasn't beautiful, it was exceptionally intelligent. Unfortunately, time waits for no one, and the dog died of old age after he grew up.

It's just unknown how long this dire wolf, which inherited the blood of a monster, will live.

Watching familiar people and things quietly pass away is a kind of sorrow for a demon hunter of the immortal race.

"Since it's all white, let's call it White Fang. I hope this little guy will obey my commands, otherwise it would be a shame to kill it."

Thinking of his beast taming skills, Wayne had high expectations. Training dire wolves or horses, these combat partners, was secondary.

His dream is to train a fleet of aerial mounts, like griffins, dragons, or manticores, fierce steeds that can carry people into the sky.

If witchers could have such a powerful group of combat partners, then probably no one would dare to underestimate them.

Unfortunately, such beasts are often extremely fierce and brutal, and there is never a legend of anyone taming a griffin in the world of Witcher.

Dragon knights are a possibility, after all, dragons are very intelligent and pragmatic.

(End of this chapter)