Chapter 82: Marching on Duén Canell
Despite the heartbreaking reality Geralt described, Arthur still refused the White Wolf's request:
"I apologize, but Dandelion is my friend, and his safety is equally important to me."
This response left Geralt momentarily dazed. He recovered a moment later, pointing at the sleeping Ciri: "Do you know who she is?"
Arthur shook his head. Just another immature little girl. They could simply rescue them both; there was no need to go to such lengths.
But Geralt whispered: "Ciri isn't just some runaway princess you see in any traveling theatre. She is Calanthe's the Queen of Cintra's granddaughter. She was supposed to marry the Prince of Verden this time, but she fled into Brokilon. If she is transformed into a dryad, it will cause huge chaos!"
Arthur was surprised. He had heard Red-Kite mention that the dryads and the Verden people were at war. Now, before dealing with the Verden people, they were going to provoke Cintra? What kind of logic did these dryads operate on?
Seeing the emotion on Arthur's face, Geralt's tone became more earnest: "If Cintra finds out her granddaughter has been turned into a dryad, Cintra will certainly declare war on Brokilon. Their power is far greater than Verden's. At that point, Brokilon will face another catastrophe."
Arthur frowned: "It sounds like you are clearly considering the dryads' interests. We could simply explain this logic to them."
Geralt shook his head helplessly: "Human logic doesn't work with them. You are my only hope now. Please, help me!"
Arthur still shook his head: "You're spoiling them! Leave this matter to me. I'll talk to them!"
Geralt stared at Arthur for a long moment, slowly shook his head, sighed, and walked away.
Young men. They are always so prone to wishful thinking.
Kolgrim nudged Arthur's shoulder and whispered: "I know you like poking your nose into trouble, but how exactly do you plan to reason with these dryads?"
Arthur offered a cold smile: "Your apprentice has a brilliant plan."
A certain senior transmigrator once said: there is no logic that cannot be communicated, and no person who cannot be persuaded!
The next day, they arrived at a magnificent forest. It was filled with oak and white walnut trees several meters thick. Their canopies were tangled together, densely obscuring the sky, making it impossible to gauge their height.
Arthur released a ball of light, floating it ahead. These massive trees completely devoured the sunlight above. The ground, apart from a thick layer of humus, couldn't sustain even a single blade of grass.
"What beautiful timber!" Arthur exclaimed, looking at the giant trees, his admiration genuine. Any one of these colossal trees could serve as the keel of a warship.
Braenn, misinterpreting Arthur's thought as simple admiration, said proudly: "This forest has been here for over a thousand years. It is our history book."
They passed through the Forest of Giant Trees in about an hour. Because the space between the tree trunks was quite open, the wagon could pass through quickly.
After walking for a while longer, a blast of cold, damp air hit them. Ciri let out a loud sneeze, tears and snot streaming out together. The girl looked around, seemingly helpless. Arthur gestured for her to blow her nose and smiled: "Everyone watch out. Be careful not to be hit by an acorn!"
Ciri pressed a finger against one nostril, exhaled forcefully, and a shiny stream of snot flew several meters away. She laughed, lifting her face, her eyes sparkling: "When I get back, I'm going to show this trick to Granny!"
But no one responded to her playful behavior. The dryads and Red-Kite stopped, looking troubled.
"What's wrong?"
Kolgrim asked.
"Ah, right, we're not far from Duén Canell now, so they have to blindfold us," Geralt said with a hint of boredom, tearing a few strips from his tattered black cloak and handing them to the women: "I guess you'll be needing these next."
Zoltan twisted his head back and forth uncomfortably: "What? I have to walk through the forest blindfolded? I'll break my neck! Besides, what if someone tries to shoot me again?"
Braenn's face darkened, ready to flare up. Red-Kite quickly stepped in front of her and explained: "From the moment your eyes are covered, you are guests of Brokilon, and your safety concerns the honor of all dryads. I swear on my bow that I will risk my life to protect you!"
Zoltan shrugged and closed his eyes: "Fine, fine, go ahead and cover them. All this drama…"
The Witchers said nothing; they always adhered to the rules and regulations of all factions.
Arthur looked at Red-Kite with a half-smile: "You really have your work cut out for you."
Entering Duén Canell blindfolded was both a necessary security measure for the dryads' capital and a display of dominance over these outsiders. It was remarkable that Red-Kite could come up with such a smooth set of excuses on the spot. He wondered what kind of love potion the dryads had given this girl for her to be so protective of them.
Seeing the amusement in Arthur's eyes, Red-Kite felt a little embarrassed. As she wrapped the black cloth strip, she whispered in Arthur's ear: "Thank you for cooperating with me."
Arthur shook his head dismissively, saying earnestly: "I told you I came with goodwill. Obeying your rules is also a way to show that goodwill."
Even so, a new problem arose before the group: the forest ahead began to narrow. Even with a dryad leading the way, the wagon would be difficult to navigate. If they proceeded on foot, the ground was full of raised tree roots, and a moment of inattention would result in a broken nose.
Arthur felt a soft hand slip into his own palm, and Red-Kite's voice whispered in his ear again: "Let the Dwarf and the elf squeeze together on horseback. We will each lead one person forward. Ciri, could I entrust you to hold Geralt's hand?"
Arthur was puzzled. Why didn't Ciri need to be blindfolded?
He immediately understood: the dryads were intentionally letting Ciri see the path to Duén Canell. That way, they would have one more reason to keep her!
He instantly protested loudly: "Eithné has not made a final judgment! You cannot use this method to force Ciri to become one of you!"
Thump-thump-thump. A flurry of footsteps rapidly approached, followed by a strong gust of wind hitting Arthur's face, as if someone had thrown a punch at him, but it was intercepted.
Then, Braenn's furious voice sounded in front of him: "Red-Kite, whose side are you on? Constantly protecting this pretty boy! Are you so desperate for a man?!"
Red-Kite's voice was laced with an unreadable exhaustion: "Braenn, calm down! Mr. Arthur came with good intentions!"
She was truly weary. These dryad companions were all incredibly stubborn: the man before them was a formidable presence, capable of blasting down a patch of forest with a single shout. The fact that he was willing to comply with the dryads' rules was already a huge concession. If they continued to be aggressive and angered him, it would be bad for everyone!
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