Viselmir looked at the somewhat unfamiliar Kylemohan in surprise.

He felt the smooth walls, looked at the lights that stood tall above him, and the occasional rustling sound in the courtyard - the seeds that Harry had sprinkled, growing and devouring the weeds.

It was completely different from the Kyle Mohan he had been with when he was younger.

But that's good.

A home should be like this, clean, tidy and bright.

"It's just a bit cumbersome to maintain." Viselmir muttered, his eyes emotional.

Harry shook his head, didn't speak, and waved his wand again.

A row of statues poured out of the corner, holding various cleaning utensils.

"Don't worry." "You don't have to do it yourself, these statues will clean the castle every night." ”

"Can magic still be used like this?" Viselmir was surprised.

Harry withdrew his wand, "Actually, there are no fewer life spells than there are combat spells. ”

"At Hogwarts, there are even more of these life spells."

Gardening, kitchen, cleaning.

Seventy percent of the spells that the young wizards of Hogwarts learn in school are closely related to life.

There are very few spells used in combat.

Even Durmstrang, who is known for "teaching black magic", is actually the same.

This made it hard for Viselmir to imagine.

Is there really such a peace-loving world?

Tonight, a few witchers were restrained and didn't get as drunk as they had been last night, and Geralt finally changed into the bunny girl costume he had to wear all day.

Wake up the next day.

The entire courtyard had been cleaned, except for a small tumbleweed-like clump of plants huddled in the corner, which Harry ignored.

It's just that in the corner of the wall that is almost easy to be attacked, the devil's net is planted.

The witchers who have mastered the Ignifac seal will easily deal with this plant and will not let the people who live here scramble.

Wait until every corner of Kylemohan is repaired.

The home of the demon hunters of the Wolf School has become a complete home again.

Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer were the first to leave, and they had to prepare for the wedding.

Harry and Hermione were going to hurry up.

Viselmir did not go with them.

Towson is a good place, but for him it is a sad place.

Lambert wanted to go with Harry all the way, but was captured by Eskar, and the mother always knew what the child wanted.

Harry's first stop was Novi Grey.

Straight down the Pontar River, past the Cow Castle, and there's it.

Compared with the last time they came and went, they had more time and more energy.

There were no apparitions, no broomsticks, they rode their horses and walked slowly.

Harry even showed Hermione how a witcher works.

Find villages, accept commissions, negotiate prices, and kill monsters.

In the mood of submissiveness or resistance of the villagers, they get the reward.

She also understood why Harry reminded herself to be careful every time.

Perhaps it was because Harry was so quick that the villagers felt that their village was not really a big problem, and most of them were not very willing to pay for it, and some even took action - they didn't dare to deal with a witcher, but Hermione seemed too easy to bully.

They took the straw forks, and then the teeth were knocked out.

"It's finally time for Novigre." Hermione stretched on horseback. The life of a witcher was fresh at the beginning, but after a few more commissions, I was left with sleepiness.

The most critical.

It's almost hard to get thanks.

Novi Gray still looks tight.

Temple guards and witch hunters roam the streets, glancing over everyone as heretics.

Herb Lodge.

No, it should be called Chameleon Inn now.

Affected by martial law in the city, business is not very good.

They pushed the door open and walked in.

Dandrien's pompous voice rang out: "Welcome, guest, you have come to the best and most elegant inn in all of Novigree!" ”

"Want something?"

Harry whispered, "Here's a dozen of Geralt's little secrets." ”

"Oh, Harry!" Dandrien Fine and opened his arms, "Great, my dearest friend. ”

Harry looked at him, not intending to hug him, his eyes suspicious, "You seem to be overzealous." ”

"There's one thing I need your help with." Dandrion said bluntly, "I think you are the only one in the world who can help me." ”

"Huh?" Harry nodded.

Dandrion took the lead and walked to the second floor of the hotel: "Don't worry, this won't delay you too much. ”

"Geralt went to find Ciri, too, I think."

Harry interrupted, "Ciri has found it, and all the troubles, I mean the Wild Hunt, have been solved. ”

"I came to you for something else."

Dandrion paused, then continued: "That's really good news. ”

"But what else are you looking for me?"

"Geralt is going to marry Yennefer." Harry whispered, "Half a month later, in Touscent, I invite you and Zoltan to the wedding. ”

This news was so terrifying that people were caught off guard.

Dandrion staggered and nearly fell down the stairs, but Harry snapped his fingers and the levitation charm held him in to keep the bard from rolling off like a ball.

"They're getting married?" Dandrion was incredulous.

Harry nodded.

Dandrien shook his head: "This news is too surprising. ”

"It's hard to imagine that he would go into the grave of marriage."

"He and Yennefer are both a hundred years old." Harry responded to him.

Dandrion shrugged, "I'll always ignore his age, let's discuss the news with Drotan later." ”

He walked over to a door, stopped, and knocked cautiously.

"Hey, Poxyla, I've brought an old friend over to see you, can you go in?"

No one spoke in the room.

There was only a crisp sound of looking at the table.

Dandrion pushed the door open and they entered.

The poetess, who had sung at the Kingfisher Hotel and amazed the crowd, sat at a table with a quill in hand, and the table was filled with full or unwritten papers.

"After you left Novigre." Dandrion looked at Psila, sighed, and spoke slowly, "Geralt is here." ”

"At that time, Pcyla and I were worried about the new hotel, and thanks to him, we got some money."

"But that's when Pcyra was attacked."

"Geralt was heroic, he took out that vampire and solved all the troubles."

"But Pracilla's voice hurt so much that she could no longer sing songs like she used to."

"Harry." Dandrien read his name, looked up, and looked over with a sincere expression.

Pusila shook her head, laughed, and when she spoke, her voice was a little hoarse, not unpleasant, but it was very different from the previous lark's state: "Dandrien, although I can no longer sing on stage, this does not affect me from writing poetry, isn't your performance also very popular?" ”

(End of chapter)