Eithné laughed contemptuously. She walked up to Lann and raised her head, forcing Lann to look directly into her eyes.
Even though she was looking up, Lann had the fleeting sensation of looking at a giant.
It was the presence of someone in a higher position, and Eithné was beginning to get subtly angry.
"I have heard that those from Cintra call you 'Young Lion', but to me, you are nothing more than a lion cub. If you were really smart, you should understand that if I know everything about the outside world and I haven't brought up the topic of an alliance, there is no need to discuss it further. Has Calanthe spoiled you so much, Lannister? Your ignorance has a certain charm."
"The little lord of Cintra wants to discuss cooperation with us? If you listened carefully to the conversation, I just had with Gwynbleidd, you should understand that I don't care about your so-called peace. Besides, soon there will be no peace between us. You won't be able to take your princess back."
She clearly understands the attitude of the kings of the surrounding countries, and she also clearly understands what she is doing and the consequences of doing so.
But her persistence towards Ciri was extraordinary. Even if she risked a war with Cintra, she would make Ciri a member of the Dryads.
Lann understood why. This is to maintain the tradition of the dryads and to introduce the Elder Blood to the dryads.
"This is a choice of fate. Leave. The only smart thing about you is that you don't stubbornly want to take away the princess. This allows you to go back alive and prepare to fight." Eithné said: "But I am willing to show mercy and allow you to see your princess one last time. Tomorrow, you can come with Gwynbleidd to the ceremony."
In the eyes of those who cannot predict the future, it seems that Ciri's stay here has become a certainty. Unless Cintra's army can descend on Duén Canell within half a day, otherwise, tomorrow Brokilon would have a newly converted dryad.
Lann had a different opinion on this. He knew what would happen tomorrow and the transformation process would fail.
For the dryads who have adhered to thousands of years of tradition, this is a great stimulus that almost shakes their faith and will cause a huge blow to the psychological defense of the dryad queen.
That's when Lann took action. He thought he could take advantage of this and plant a seed in the heart of the Dryad Queen, and when the seed sprouted and grew, it would bear his fruit.
In order to maximize the effect, he planned to lay the groundwork.
Facing the menacing Dryad Queen, Lann, who had been suppressed and unable to express, suddenly laughed.
He said confidently: "In fact, Lady Eithné, I think it was fate that brought me here. Whether it is to discuss a contract with you or to take away Ciri, and I also believe that fate will make the best choice."
Saying that would be enough, being too wordy would be impolite.
This sentence surprised Eithné. She expected the young knight in front of her to have a variety of reactions, just like the reactions humans had to her in the past. Either he bowed his head and knelt down and prayed that he would let the princess go, or he gritted his teeth and threatened to use the army to suppress the situation in an attempt to scare her.
But this was definitely not what she expected. A human talking to him about destiny. A teenage human speaking to her, a Dryad Queen hundreds of years old, about destiny?
"Destiny? Lann of Cintra, are you talking to me about destiny?"
Lann continued: "In fact, Lady Eithné, even if you are not counted, there is more than one person in this room who is deeply entangled in fate."
Eithné glanced at Geralt, who was expressionless at the side, and then turned to look at Lann.
She first stared at the blond hair that was comparable to the sun, then stared at the shining blue eyes, and then the knife-like smile.
"Lann Lannister." Eithné chewed on the name and closed her eyes for a while to feel it.
After a long while, she said meaningfully: "You are special, young lion of Cintra, but you are not special enough. Destiny is a double-edged sword, be careful not to be hurt by it."
After saying that, Eithné left with her guards.
She left, but there were still people in the house who couldn't calm down because of her words.
The Baron Freixenet realized something was wrong.
"Geralt?" Freixenet's face turned pale. "What did that dryad mean? Why does she want Ciri to stay? Even if it means going to war with Cintra?"
Geralt sighed: "Eithné will turn the princess into a dryad and give her a new name. Then within two or three years, her arrows will shoot into the eyes of her brothers and even her parents - as long as they dare break into Brokilon."
The witcher stepped forward and patted Lan's shoulder, seeming to comfort him.
"Damn it!" Freixenet shouted, his face pale: "Ervyll will be furious. Geralt, can't you...?"
"I can't." The witcher interrupted him. "We shouldn't try it at all. Otherwise, you will not be able to leave Duén Canell alive."
Freixenet murmured: "Are we going to lose that little girl? I actually quite like her..."
...
The next morning, Lann and Geralt were led by the dryads to the residence of the dryad queen.
Braenn, who was leading the way, had an expressionless face and pressed his lips tightly together.
According to Geralt's introduction last night, Lann knew that the dryad in front of him was also transformed from a human girl, but she seemed to still have a little bit of memory from her human days. Apparently, she hadn't been transformed long enough.
Participating in Ciri's transformation this time seems to have brought back some bad memories for the young dryad.
Lann asked softly: "What was your previous name, Braenn? You know when I am referring to."
Braenn's face was expressionless. "Gwynbleidd also asked me this question, and I gave the same answer, that's not important. Be careful what you say, Lann of Cintra, there is no friendship between us."
Lann shrugged and said nothing. Geralt's expression was heavy, and he had no intention of speaking, so there was no more conversation on the way to the Dryad Queen.
Eithné's residence is a huge oak tree. Or more precisely, they were three oak trees that had grown together over the course of at least three hundred years, but their branches were still lush, with no signs of withering. The hollow logs were surprisingly spacious inside, with high conical ceilings and a simple but cozy room. A weak oil lamp illuminates the simple but quite comfortable room.
Eithné knelt down on the carpet in the center of the room, combing Ciri's long hair slowly and carefully, and said scary words in a gentle tone: "This hair is very beautiful, you should be able to keep it in the future."
Ciri crossed her legs and sat motionless in front of Eithné. She seemed to have bathed, her skin was soft and clean, with her green eyes wide open.
"Come in, everyone, sit down."
The two of them saluted, and then sat upright on the ground.
"Have you rested?" She asked without looking in his direction or stopping combing Ciri's hair. "When do you want to go back? How about tomorrow morning?"
"As you wish, ruler of Brokilon." Geralt replied coldly. "As soon as you speak, I will not be a nuisance in Duén Canell."
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