Chapter 72: What Have You Saved?
Toruviel did not fear death. Rather, from the day she was born, she had been repeatedly told that Elves were destined to die on the battlefield. In the words of the Elven King, Filavandrel, her death should come while standing atop a mound of human corpses, her white garment stained with blood, using her last breath to gaze upon the serrated longsword in her hand.
Yet when this day truly arrived, she realized that it only took one person and one sword to end her life. How ironic.
Arthur didn't understand why the elf suddenly abandoned her resistance. He carefully kicked the already bent and distorted longsword to the side, pointing his sword tip at Toruviel's heart.
"Wait!" Just as Arthur was about to thrust, Dandelion's voice suddenly rang out from behind him.
"Wait, I know this elf!" Dandelion called out anxiously, kicking and pushing a crate aside before crawling out.
"Toruviel! Do you remember me? Do you remember this lute?" Dandelion raised the lute high, standing far back.
Toruviel's previously vacant eyes regained a flicker of life, and she offered a bitter smile: "Of course, I remember. The one the Elven King ordered me to compensate you with at the Edge of the World. You… you've kept it well protected."
The poet proudly puffed out his chest: "I cherish it more than my own eyes!" But seeing the elf's disheveled hair and bloodied hands, the poet's expression immediately sank: "What happened? How did you end up… like this." He couldn't find the right words, pointing almost helplessly at Toruviel.
The elf forced a weak smile for the poet. She felt her arm bones might be broken; the pain made it impossible to even wipe the blood from her face: "I told you, one day, we would charge down from the valleys and die with honor. I am glad I could see an old acquaintance before I died."
Arthur belatedly realized: "She is…"
"The elf sung about in 'The Edge of the World.' I thought they would patiently await their opportunity." Dandelion's mood was deeply low, and the elf responded with a silent gaze, just as she had decades ago.
The change happened in an instant.
From the side wall of the red corridor, a horse's head poked out first, followed by the elven warrior riding it. It was Galarr, who had been tasked with blocking the end of the corridor. He had rushed back upon seeing his comrades' attack, making him the only fresh force on the field.
Galarr reined his horse to avoid Arthur, swinging his longsword down toward Dandelion's head.
"No!" Toruviel shrieked loudly: "Mission terminated! Retreat immediately, retreat!"
Her decision saved all the elves present. The instant Galarr completed his turn, a pale blue wave spread out from Arthur, instantly sweeping across a radius of twenty meters.
Battle Cry!
An unspeakable feeling of terror flooded Galarr's heart. With his last shred of sanity, he blindly grabbed back, catching hold of a hand and hauling Toruviel onto his horse, then bolted away without looking back.
As Galarr fled, the sound of combat on the other side of the caravan immediately ceased, replaced by a rapid series of pounding footsteps.
[Stimulus Event: Battlefield Spellcaster]
[Compatibility Increased to: 20/100]
[Awarded Specialty: Battlefield Spellcaster]
[You can now instinctively use cantrips to attack enemies who are attacking or fleeing]
Phew, the crisis is finally averted…
Arthur let out a long, ragged breath. Since his swordsmanship reached the Master level, he had never experienced a struggle this tough. Thanks to the advantage of his weapon, the melee hadn't been too stressful, but those deadly accurate arrows had nearly pushed him to the brink. It looked like he needed to find a way to improve his archery skill soon the things he had to learn just kept piling up.
"Is everyone alright?"
Arthur shouted at the top of his lungs toward the other side of the caravan. The Dwarf's rough voice immediately replied: "I'm fine! The Witcher just has a flesh wound."
Kolgrim is wounded? Arthur was initially incredulous, but then he recalled the Witcher mentioning that his swordsmanship was tailored for monsters and he wasn't adept at fighting people. Well, elves are people… mostly.
While he was lost in thought, Zoltan appeared, supporting Kolgrim. The Witcher had a cut on his thigh not deep enough to expose bone, just a flesh wound that a Swallows potion could fix.
"Well, well, you actually captured a prisoner! You've put both of us to shame. Wait, where did Dandelion go?"
Zoltan's words froze Arthur. A prisoner? Hadn't Toruviel been rescued by the elven rider?
He quickly looked around, meeting the large, almond-shaped eyes of the female elf. A magnificent warhorse had walked over at some point and was nuzzling her side.
Wait, where is my bard? He was just here, a large man like that! Arthur's mind buzzed and exploded.
Zoltan looked back and forth between Arthur and Toruviel and said playfully: "Let me guess. That elven rider panicked during his escape and mistook Dandelion for a young elven girl and carried him away?"
Arthur nodded with a grim expression.
"Ha!" Zoltan slapped Arthur on the shoulder excitedly: "You're a sly one, getting rid of a greasy middle-aged singer in exchange for a young elf girl. Trading friends for looks, are we!"
(Master Dandelion was born in 1229; by 1263, he was 34, so not quite middle-aged.)
Toruviel seemed annoyed by the crude joke, glaring at the Dwarf with every intention of cursing him out. But when her gaze swept past Arthur's face, a blush mysteriously rose, and she lowered her head, remaining silent.
Arthur tugged at his hair in frustration: "Stop joking around. My head's a mess right now."
"Don't worry, the situation isn't hopeless yet," Kolgrim said, drinking a Swallow Potion and patting Arthur's shoulder. "We can arrange a prisoner exchange."
A prisoner exchange?!
The phrase struck Arthur like a bolt of lightning. He looked at the female elf slumped on the ground, his gaze so fervent it almost scorched her.
That's right! Dandelion is old, annoying, and useless, but the female elf I caught is young, beautiful, and comes with a horse! There's no reason the elves would refuse!
"We'll chase them right now and trade prisoners!" Arthur jumped up excitedly, about to harness the horse to the carriage. But the moment he rose, he was hit by intense dizziness and stumbled.
"Are you alright? Where are you hurt?" Zoltan grabbed Arthur's arm. Receiving no answer, he angrily turned to glare at the female elf on the ground: "You ugly hag, where did you hurt my brother?!"
Facing the menacing Dwarf, Toruviel's eyes showed a hint of disdain, but glancing at the hazy-minded Arthur, she replied: "He is fine. He is just magically exhausted. A good sleep is all he needs."
"A good sleep… that's easy enough!" Zoltan spun like a plump top, telling Kolgrim: "You watch this ugly hag, and I'll make the bed. We have plenty of room in the carriage now."
"You dead Dwarf, who are you calling ugly!" Toruviel shrieked, dragging her hands toward the Dwarf as if to bite him, but Kolgrim pressed lightly on her shoulder, and she settled back onto the ground.
"No time to delay. Saving Dandelion is the priority." Arthur struggled to walk to the caged wagon, a flicker of pain in his eyes. But he still aimed the Temerian Blade at the Ghoul Chieftain, who was huddled in the corner, and plunged it down with all his might.
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