Chapter 1437 - 1402: Ten People

Yennefer and Geralt, the friendly acquaintances, left early, and as they departed, the men and women present could feel the heat in their eyes. They all tacitly understood what they were going to do.

Fortunately, Airetusa had prepared many rooms for the banquet guests.

As if appreciating their courage as the first couple to leave for ’business’, a gentle applause was heard, drawing closer.

It was a black-haired female warlock who seemed to have shaken off her male companion and was now roaming the banquet alone.

The female warlock fixed her gaze straight on Lann as she approached.

Knowing the demon hunter wasn’t familiar with many people present, Margaret quickly stepped forward, calling out the newcomer’s name, avoiding an awkward situation.

"Hey, Sabina, long time no see!"

Margaret’s enthusiasm was overflowing, almost convincing everyone but Lann.

"Yes, long time no see, our party queen! You’re as dazzling as ever today."

The female warlock responded, hugging Margaret and kissing each other’s earrings and ears. Next was Triss.

"Lann, this is Sabina Gleiwix from Ad Calais." Triss introduced with ease, as if the one they were just disparaging with Yennefer was someone else. "She’s in Codwin, just like my position."

The demon hunter courteously bowed, offering a hand-kissing gesture, though under Lann’s control, he didn’t actually make contact.

The young man had long realized that the female warlocks enjoyed such gestures. Simply put, it made them feel treated like princesses, satisfying their vanity.

"Oh, I never thought the rumored absurd stories were true."

Sabina’s words seemed to respond to Triss and Margaret, yet her eyes fixed on the man in front and proudly thrust her chest.

"How do you usually get along? Together or one by one?"

"I haven’t gone to bed with Triss yet, but we are indeed both mesmerized by him. Nothing else matters." Margaret replied nonchalantly, though her smile slightly waned. "But your blouse is really beautiful, Sabina. Right, Lann?"

Lann made no comment.

Sabina’s blouse, made of black sheer fabric, fully exposed her curvaceous figure... really exposed, the fabric so transparent that observers barely had to exert effort to see the entire view of her chest, all of it.

Her dark red skirt was tied with a broad belt, with rose-shaped metal buckles. The side slit of the skirt, currently fashionable, was also worn by Margaret.

Though Margaret’s version was normal, the side slit of her skirt only reached the thigh, while Sabina’s went directly over the hip, slit up to the waist.

Lann stood like a wooden sculpture, didn’t respond to Sabina. Beside, Margaret and Triss were still smiling, but the demon hunter could sense they were raging inside.

Sabina didn’t dare play too much fire in front of Margaret and Triss, cast one last suggestive glance at the demon hunter, then excused herself, claiming to have spotted an acquaintance, and left.

Margaret’s lips moved, cursing under her breath at Sabina’s retreating figure, Triss likewise.

Though the two female warlocks cursed rather harshly, Lann didn’t want to remember them.

At this point, the ballroom doors opened once more, several people made a grand entrance.

"They’ve arrived." Triss cleared her throat, "Finally here."

Lann frowned at them, these were the people he intended to focus on tonight, five members from the Council of Mages of Talent and Skill Association, and five members of the Warlock Supreme Council.

Leading was Tishaya, wearing a complex yet conservative gown that seemed several centuries old.

Holding her arm politely was Henry Gemitis, or formally known as Gehart of Elle.

For a Great Mage with centuries of experience, possessing many names was not unusual.

"That blond elf behind, you haven’t met her right, dear?" Margaret playfully shook her glass while introducing to Lann.

"That’s Francesca Fen Dapei, also known as Enid Ann Grenier, meaning ’Valley Daisies’ in Elder Speech, many claim she must be the most beautiful witch in the world."

She was stunning, her large eyes like a gentle doe’s.

"Looks very young." Lann commented, deliberately avoiding the ’most beautiful’ title, "Even among elves, she appears quite young."

"It’s just an appearance." Triss added, explaining, "She is one of the rare pure-blood elves, not a single human blood drop in her veins, her life expectancy much longer than ordinary elves."

In this magical medieval era, humans who arrived during the conjunction of spheres drove the elves from their throne, yet in the process, the bloodlines of both races closely intermingled.

Just like now, for any Northern Person, barring extreme irrational species supremacists, no one could confidently claim their veins didn’t hold a drop of elder race blood.

In the warlock circle, elf crossbreeding had higher and more common incidence.

"Her visit likely to discuss the Kingdom’s growing discrimination and hostility towards non-human races."

Margaret affirmed.

"Tishaya has decided to assist her, many wizards will stand by her, our group maintains good relations with elder races. She won’t squander this opportunity."

"Just look at her escort, Viggo Fortez from Logueywen. Compared to pureblood elves who merely look young, this is truly a young and promising talent."

"And then there’s the short one behind him, Alto Tranova, who is one of the five from the Talent and Skill Association."

Lann’s eyes glanced further back, where there were three male warlocks.

They were Fikat from Hidaris, Liddercliff from Ossenford, and Caduin from Lang Aisite.

These three, along with Philippa Eilhart and Yennefer who just left early with Geralt, form the five-member Warlock Supreme Council.

"I remember Yennefer was chosen because of her achievements in the Battle of Sodden Mountain, right?" Lann suddenly asked.

Upon hearing this, Triss blushed slightly: "Well, my qualifications aren’t enough, nor is my strength."

Though Yennefer always had the big sister air around Triss, having been to the battlefield herself and gained fame, Yennefer became a member of the Warlock Supreme Council, while Triss did not progress.

This left Triss feeling somewhat melancholic.

Especially with Margaret standing beside her.

Someone who has to fight tooth and nail to get into the council, while Margaret could get in with just a nod.

After all, in terms of sheer power, among those ten, perhaps only the three oldest could firmly outmatch Margaret.

Unfortunately, Margaret was known as the ’Party Queen’ since her student days, and Sabina had just called her by her nickname.

Even later, her playful spirit didn’t wane, though it was accompanied by a sense of responsibility towards the academy and the students.

This bit of responsibility seemed to tire Margaret, so she had no intention of advancing within the circle of warlocks.

After they made their entrance, the banquet seemed to finally follow its theme. Many warlocks gathered around, eager for a chance to greet.

"We should also go over and say a few words." Margaret and Triss walked towards the crowd, smiling at Lann, "We’ll gather some information for you too."

They both knew the main purpose of Lann’s presence at this banquet and were willing to offer their utmost assistance.

After the two female warlocks left, as others also flocked towards the crowd, Lann loosened the collar of his tight-fitting shirt slightly, planning to eat some food at the buffet to keep his mouth busy and pass the time.

The lobster from Kovir was opened from its shell, with its plump, glistening meat displayed enticingly, making one’s mouth water.

Lann just went over to pick some, sprinkling mustard sauce onto his plate.

Apparently, someone else had no intention of greeting the big figures among the wizards at this time either.

Lann’s hand with the tongs paused mid-air because the ham slices he wanted were being moved closer by another hand.

"You’re being so diligent that you’re making me hesitant to take action, sir."

Lann laughed lightly, casting a sidelong glance at the chief spy of Redania beside him.

The burly man, dressed in a bright yellow, tight-fitting shirt, was clearly uncomfortable from the constriction of the garment.

Even though a nearly two-meter-tall man was tall and robust, he appeared smaller next to Lann.

"If I’ve inconvenienced you, then please accept my apology, sir. I’m not too familiar with the rules of these contemporary banquets."

Dikoschek spoke respectfully, with no fault to be found in his words.

"By comparison, I still prefer the more traditional setting, tables covered in sauces and beer, dim and inviting, with hearty meals, where one could sleep under the table after drinking too much."

"Traditional and contemporary." Lann casually placed a few slices of ham onto his plate, "Quite a dull opener, just say what’s on your mind, sir."

"Please don’t use any honorifics with me." Dikoschek shook his head repeatedly, "I’m not the rumored count. I come from a farmer background, but Vizimir ordered me to call myself a count so that when I give orders, I don’t unintentionally offend the true nobility."

"Haha, your self-introduction sounds at least somewhat sincere and natural. Have you practiced long?"

Lann spoke while eating.

"If there’s an opportunity to introduce oneself before you, I believe anyone would prepare carefully." Dikoschek continued his polite praise. "Meeting you isn’t easy; it requires quite a bit of luck."

Lann’s hands handling the fork didn’t pause: "Those words sound rather meaningful."

"Just the truth," Dikoschek continued, "As long as the dramas on Vizima Lake continue to unfold, isn’t this the reality?"

"You seem to have learned something?"

"All speculative, yet highly probable. Goddess worship, knights of justice, and the like. But it’s useless because the possible key figure won’t even grant us a meeting."

At that moment, Lann finally paused his food-handling actions, glancing at Dikoschek.

"What exactly is Vizimir paying you?" the Demon Hunter asked suddenly, "that you’re audacious enough to say these things in my presence?"