CHAPTER 45: THE WOLF SCHOOL HEARS ABOUT IT
[PERIMETER ALERT: WITCHER DETECTED]
[AFFILIATION: WOLF SCHOOL]
[THREAT ASSESSMENT: LOW — APPROACH PATTERN NON-HOSTILE]
The notification registered before the figure reached the gate — the CDM's detection range extending far enough to identify School affiliation from movement patterns and equipment signatures.
A Witcher. Coming to us.
I reached the north gate as Gervin's patrol intercepted the approaching figure. Young — early twenties, maybe — with the characteristic cat-pupil eyes and the medallion visible at his throat. Wolf School, confirming the CDM's assessment.
"He says he's here for consultation," Gervin reported as I arrived. "Contract trouble. Heard we might be able to help."
The Witcher was watching me with the careful assessment of someone trained to evaluate threats quickly. His hand wasn't near his sword, but his posture suggested he could reach it faster than most humans could blink.
"What kind of contract trouble?" I asked.
"Fiend. Southern road, three months running. Behavioral pattern doesn't match anything in the standard approaches." His voice was professional, cautious. "A merchant I met two days ago mentioned a settlement here with monster-hunting expertise. Said you might have information the Schools don't."
I considered the implications. A Wolf School Witcher, here on legitimate professional business. Not an assessment mission, not a reconnaissance probe — a working hunter looking for help with a difficult contract.
The fact that he'd heard about us at all meant our reputation was traveling faster than I'd anticipated.
"Come in," I said. "We can discuss it over food."
His name was Daven. Twenty-two years on the Path, trained at Kaer Morhen before the last major intake, working the southern Velen circuit for the past three years.
He ate like someone who hadn't had a proper meal in days — methodically, efficiently, without pausing for conversation until the plate was empty. Standard Witcher behavior. The Path didn't encourage leisurely dining.
"The Fiend," I said when he'd finished. "Tell me about the behavioral anomaly."
"Standard Fiends are territorial. They claim an area, defend it, hunt within predictable ranges. This one moves. Three months, six different locations along a twenty-mile stretch of road. No consistent territory pattern, no predictable hunting schedule."
"Prey availability at each location?"
"Variable. Some sites had good hunting, some didn't. The movement doesn't correlate with food sources."
I pulled the Wilds Registry from my workspace — the physical documentation I'd compiled from the CDM's creature database. The Fiend entry had seventeen behavioral annotations that standard School approaches didn't include, observations compiled from Pip's eighty years of territory knowledge and my own analysis of local monster populations.
"Fiend displacement behavior," I said, finding the relevant section. "When a Fiend loses a territorial dispute with a larger predator, it enters a migratory pattern until it finds unclaimed territory or challenges another Fiend successfully. The movement you're describing is consistent with a displaced individual — something pushed it out of its original range."
Daven leaned forward, reading the annotations over my shoulder. His expression shifted — the recognition of information he hadn't encountered before.
"The Schools' bestiary doesn't include displacement patterns."
"The Schools' bestiary is based on observations made during contract work. Witchers encounter Fiends in their territory, complete the contract, move on. Long-term behavioral observation isn't part of the methodology."
"And yours is?"
"Mine is based on different sources."
He read through the rest of the Fiend entry in silence. Territory marking behaviors, seasonal hunting variations, interaction patterns with other large predators, displacement triggers and recovery timelines.
"This is... comprehensive."
"It's accurate. That's what matters."
Daven was in the settlement for six hours.
I didn't try to control what he saw. The settlement was what it was — hiding it would be suspicious and ultimately pointless. A Witcher's enhanced senses would pick up details I couldn't conceal anyway.
He saw the Convergence Hall construction, foundation stones already rising from the eastern quadrant. He saw Brokk's family working alongside halfling volunteers, the Stonehatch dwarves coordinating with the Goodwheat farmers on material transport.
He saw Coppervane's upgraded alchemy station, producing potions at a quality level he could measure with a single taste. His expression when he sampled a basic healing draught told me everything I needed to know about the differential.
He saw Aelindra on the perimeter wall, an Elf archer integrated into a human settlement's defensive structure. He saw Pip in the common space, a godling sitting comfortably among halfling children and human settlers.
He asked, carefully, about the building going up twenty meters east of the Convergence Hall.
"What do you think it is?" I asked.
"I've heard rumors."
"What kind?"
"The kind the Schools would want to verify." His voice was neutral, professional. "A facility for mutation procedures. Improved protocols. Something that hasn't existed since the Sacking."
"And if those rumors were accurate?"
He was quiet for a moment. "Then the Schools would have questions. About methodology. About authorization. About how someone outside the Schools acquired the knowledge to attempt it."
"Those would be reasonable questions."
"They would."
I didn't confirm or deny. The Trial Hall's foundation stakes were visible from where we stood. He'd already drawn his own conclusions.
Daven left with the Fiend behavioral profile — enough information to solve his contract, if he applied it correctly. He also left with enough information to write a detailed report to whatever School authority he reported to.
I watched him go from the north gate, Gervin standing silent beside me.
"He'll report what he saw," Gervin said.
"Yes."
"Everything he saw."
"Yes."
The Witcher's figure disappeared around the bend in the road, moving with the efficient pace of someone who had miles to cover and no time to waste.
I hadn't tried to suppress the report. Suppression would have been suspicious and ineffective — a Wolf School Witcher who vanished after visiting a settlement would generate more attention than one who filed a routine intelligence update.
Instead, I'd made sure he saw what I wanted reported: a legitimate institution with diverse population, unusual capability, peaceful operation. A place that helped Witchers rather than competing with them.
I hadn't controlled what he saw of the Trial Hall foundation. That would be in the report too.
[WOLF SCHOOL: INTELLIGENCE FILE OPENED]
[STATUS: MONITORING — NO IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED]
The CDM's assessment matched my own. The Schools would want to verify the rumors. Eventually, someone with more authority than a junior contract hunter would be dispatched.
Master Edvard, probably. The Wolf School's senior representative for unusual situations.
That meeting was coming. The only question was when.
Yennefer was passing the north gate as I returned to the settlement interior.
She said nothing, but she watched the road where Daven had disappeared for a longer moment than professional interest would require. Her expression was unreadable — the specific blankness that meant she was thinking something she didn't intend to share.
"The Wolf School," she said finally.
"Yes."
"They'll send someone more senior eventually."
"Yes."
She turned back toward her workspace without further comment. Whatever she was thinking remained hidden behind the neutral mask she'd worn for seventy years of Brotherhood politics.
I returned to the construction site, where Brokk's family was laying the fourth course of foundation stones. The settlement continued its work around me — halflings hauling materials, dwarves directing placement, an elf on the perimeter wall keeping watch over everything.
The Witcher had left with a Fiend profile and a settlement impression that would travel faster than the road he was walking. By the time he reached his next contract, the information would already be spreading through whatever channels the Wolf School used for intelligence gathering.
The settlement's existence had stopped being a rumor the Schools could ignore.
That was the specific cost of being real enough to find.
That evening, I reviewed the day's events in my quarters.
The gate deterioration was accelerating. The Trial Hall construction was underway. The Wolf School had opened an intelligence file on the settlement.
Three different pressures, all building simultaneously. The gate's structural integrity, the Brotherhood's political attention, the Schools' professional interest.
Any one of them could become critical before the others resolved. All three were connected to the same fundamental reality: the settlement was becoming something that couldn't be ignored.
I pulled up the CP status, checking the current reserves against the acquisition costs I'd mapped out.
[CP STATUS: 380]
[WITCHER TRIAL FORMULA: 500 CP]
[CURRENT DEFICIT: 120 CP]
The formula was within reach. Another few weeks of consultation work, another successful contract or two, and the CP threshold would be met.
The question was whether the other pressures would wait that long.
Daven's report would reach the Wolf School within two weeks, depending on his travel route. The Brotherhood's Stage Three would arrive whenever the review board finished processing Yennefer's counterdocument. The gate would continue deteriorating at 0.108% per week, climbing higher once the Trial Hall became operational.
Everything was moving. The only thing I could control was what I built while it moved.
I set aside the CP calculations and returned to the construction schedules. The Convergence Hall foundation needed another week. The Trial Hall excavation could begin after that.
One step at a time. One day at a time. Until the thing I was building was real enough that no amount of pressure could unmake it.
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