Chapter 84: Dandelion's Happy Time
Those porous mushrooms, having grown on the tree trunk for who knows how many years, were giant—like steps. When trod upon, they felt solid but slightly springy, making the climb quite effortless.
"The houses are so pretty, and they still have leaves!" Ciri hadn't stopped exclaiming since stepping onto the mushroom path. The others didn't mind the noise, perhaps because they were suppressing similar exclamations themselves.
"That's because they are built from living trees," Sîrsa explained with a smile: "All dryad houses are like this. We don't need axes or saws. We just tell the trees how to grow, and all that's left is waiting."
"That's amazing!" Ciri praised: "I want to build a house like this in the garden, too."
"Or, you could choose to stay. Then every tree house here would be yours to play in." The dryad smiled and reached out a hand toward Ciri's head.
The little girl blocked her hand: "Why does everyone want to touch my hair? I'm not a child anymore!" Ciri said earnestly: "I definitely don't want to stay. I have my own things to do."
The smile on Sîrsa's face froze: "But, don't you like it here?"
Ciri nodded, then shook her head: "This place is nice for a visit sometimes, but not for a long stay. Look, there are leaves everywhere. There must be so many mosquitoes."
This time, the dryad looked as though someone had thrown a rotten egg in her face; her smile completely vanished.
She then silently led the group upward, climbing for more than twenty meters before finally stopping in front of a large structure: "Go inside. Lady Eithné is waiting for you. See you later, poor little girl."
Ciri shivered, shaking Geralt's arm: "Why did she call me poor? We'll leave once we're done, won't we?"
"Yes, we will leave once we're done," Arthur nodded firmly, emphasizing: "All of us."
Even in Duén Canell, this house could be called magnificent. Its walls were adorned with fresh flowers, and sunlight streamed lavishly down from the ceiling—meaning the tree canopy above had deliberately left an opening.
"Geralt!"
"Dandelion!"
"Fisstech!"
"Ciri!"
…Five or six names rang out simultaneously, and the room instantly turned into an active theatre performance. Geralt had Dandelion draped over his left arm and a wounded man tucked under his right. Ciri spun around the side, unable to find a space to jump into.
When the touching reunion scene finally concluded, Zoltan found his chance and kicked the minstrel lightly on the backside, chuckling: "Ha, Dandelion! We thought you'd been eaten alive by the sharp-ears, but here you are, enjoying a life of ease!"
His kick wasn't hard, yet Dandelion collapsed instantly and didn't get up for a long time.
Everyone was shocked and rushed to help, but Zoltan, leveraging his height advantage, scooped Dandelion up first, glaring at the dryad nearby: "What's going on? If anything happens to the poet, I'm going to demand an explanation from you lot!"
Fortunately, Kolgrim and Geralt were veterans and immediately spotted the issue: "Quiet, he's just asleep."
Arthur leaned in to look. Dandelion's face was serene, his breathing steady. He was indeed just sleeping. Arthur only wondered what Dandelion had been through in the last two days to be so utterly exhausted.
"Master Dandelion, you promised you'd come to me! Why haven't you arrived yet?!"
Just as Arthur pondered this, a delicate shout came from a door on the other side of the tree house, and a beautiful dryad walked out with a charmingly seductive expression.
She was clearly unprepared for so many people to be in the room. Her feet froze as if she had stepped on a landmine, and the blush on her cheeks vanished instantly. Her voice became cool and clear as she asked: "What are you doing here? Why are you surrounding Master Dandelion?"
Zoltan, blunt as always, shot back: "What did you do to him to make him so exhausted?"
The dryad ignored him, only huffed, and told Fisstech: "When Master Dandelion wakes up, tell him to come to my place for a visit."
The wounded man protested: "Hey, hey, hey! I can help with things like that too!"
But the dryad offered no further words and turned to leave.
"What on earth is going on?" Zoltan scratched his bald head, asking in confusion.
"Master Dandelion… is helping the dryads expand their population." Fisstech didn't feel comfortable being too explicit in front of Ciri.
Arthur immediately recalled what Geralt had said yesterday: "Dryads are a mono-gender species. Their new members are either converted human or elven girls, or they rely on... stud service…"
He scrutinised Dandelion, noting the bard's pale complexion, high cheekbones, and large, dark circles around both eyes…
This is a severe case of kidney deficiency!
Braenn walked toward Ciri, attempting to take her hand: "Come, poor little thing, walk with me."
"Where are we going?" Ciri slapped Braenn's arm away: "I'm staying with Geralt and Arthur. I'm not going anywhere!"
"You must leave." A fleeting look of anger crossed Braenn's face, but she patiently coaxed: "It is your destiny…"
"To hell with destiny! What Ciri does is up to Ciri to decide!" Arthur straightened up. He had just poured some restorative potion down Dandelion's throat. Though it wasn't a perfect cure, it promoted blood circulation and would speed up his recovery if he rested properly. Arthur clenched the slender neck of the potion bottle and spoke with anger.
"No one can evade destiny."
Another voice arrived, full and deep, containing an undeniable sense of authority.
"Lady Eithné…"
The Supreme Ruler of Brokilon arrived gracefully. Her figure was well-defined by the thin green gown, and her head was held high. She was followed by two young dryads carrying bows.
When she saw the people gathered in the room, her already serious face grew even sterner. In the tree house, Braenn bowed, Geralt knelt on the ground, and Arthur stood tall and firm in the center. With him drawing attention, the others performing the same deep bow, like Kolgrim and Zoltan, were less conspicuous.
"Rise, Gwynnbleid. You are welcome, even if you came uninvited."
Geralt stood up, casting a complex glance at Arthur: "My respects to you, Eithné, Supreme Ruler of Brokilon."
Eithné seemed intent on asserting her authority over Geralt: "I welcome your presence in this forest again. But arriving without my permission is dangerous."
"I came on a mission."
The dryad revealed a dangerous smile: "Oh, no wonder you are so reckless. Geralt, the rule that prohibits killing messengers is a human rule. I do not accept human rules. This is Brokilon."
It felt as though a storm was brewing in the tree house. Everyone was listening intently, yet their minds were completely focused on the two people talking. Even Geralt forgot to respond.
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