Duén Canell was a sight to behold. Oak trees, revered in the magical world for their nobility, resilience, and connection to nature's harmony, flourished throughout the dryad capital. Its very name, Duén Canell, meant "land of oaks" in ancient tongue.
As Wayne was led blindfolded through this haven, he perceived captivating beauty at every turn. Dryads of all ages, shapes, and personalities moved freely, their unclothed forms a natural testament to their connection with the forest. The scarcity of male visitors meant most dryads regarded him with curiosity, especially the younger ones. His gaze met theirs, and they would shyly avert their eyes, like startled fawns.
Wayne felt as if he had stumbled into a mythical realm of women. He was so captivated by the enchanting scene that he barely noticed the unique architecture of the dryads' dwellings, woven from living vines through their magic, or the shimmering Brokilon water that flowed throughout the settlement.
Duén Canell was nestled deep within the primeval forest, where towering trees blocked out much of the sunlight. The resulting dimness lent an air of mystery and intimacy to the dryad home.
Despite the limited sunlight, the dryads were not without illumination. They cultivated a species of large fireflies, their tails glowing like tiny bulbs, casting an ethereal luminescence throughout Duén Canell.
Guided by several dryads, Wayne was soon brought to a sizable vine dwelling, guarded by agile dryads. He surmised this must be the residence of the legendary dryad queen, Eithné of the Silver Eyes.
As they approached the entrance, a tall figure emerged from within. The dryads flanking Wayne bowed respectfully, signaling the arrival of their sovereign.
Queen Eithné stood nearly six and a half feet tall, her figure slender and graceful. Unlike her subjects, she wore a simple garment of white silk that draped across her chest and lower body. Long silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face of regal beauty, though her expression was stern and serious. It was impossible to determine her age from her appearance.
Eithné regarded Wayne with an impassive gaze, lingering briefly on his amber eyes and pointed ears. Then, in an ethereal voice, she inquired, "Witcher Wayne, were you once an elf?"
"Yes, Lady Eithné," Wayne confirmed, opting not to specify his half-elven heritage. In this world, most elves were of mixed blood, and as long as one's appearance aligned with elven characteristics, they were considered elves.
Eithné nodded, dispensing with further pleasantries. She was a queen of few words, her focus solely on the matter at hand.
"I understand you seek to undertake monster contracts," Queen Eithné began, her voice resonating with authority. "As it happens, several powerful beasts have plagued our forest, attacking dryads without provocation. Over the years, many have perished at their claws."
"Their unique traits and resilience make them difficult to subdue with our traditional weapons," she continued. "If you can rid us of these creatures, you will be generously rewarded. Though we dryads do not value gold or jewels, we possess trophies collected from vanquished foes over millennia."
As Eithné finished speaking, a system prompt echoed in Wayne's mind:
Ding! Master-level quest [Enemies in the Dryad Forest] has been triggered.
Accept/ Decline
A master-level quest? Wayne was momentarily surprised but quickly understood. The dryads' strength was not to be underestimated, and a foe that troubled them would indeed warrant such a classification. This was a fortuitous development, securing a master-level contract before even embarking on his wedding banquet mission.
Wayne bowed slightly to the queen, indicating his willingness to accept the task. "I am honored to accept this commission, Lady Eithné," he replied. "However, for a witcher to effectively hunt monsters, accurate intelligence and preparation are paramount. The more detailed information I have about these creatures, the better."
"This is my first time in your forest," Wayne admitted. "I am unfamiliar with many things here. Therefore, I request that someone knowledgeable about the forest and its creatures accompany me. This individual needn't fight alongside me but should provide information when necessary."
Queen Eithné, though she had not ventured beyond Brokilon for many years, was renowned throughout the magical world as a scholar and sorceress of immense wisdom and understanding. She considered Wayne's request for a moment before issuing a command to the dryads beside him.
"Marika, Aglais, you two shall assist Witcher Wayne in fulfilling this contract. Remain by his side during the hunt and do your utmost to meet his needs."
Turning to Wayne, she added, "Witcher Wayne, this commission has no time constraint. You may prepare thoroughly before engaging the beasts. During your stay, you may reside within our forest without fear of attack. Should you be injured, Marika and Aglais will bring you back to Duén Canell, where the waters of Brokilon will mend your wounds."
"If you succeed in completing this task," she concluded, "you will be considered a friend of the dryads, and this forest shall no longer bar your passage."
.....
After Wayne's departure, Queen Eithné returned to her quarters, but instead of her usual scholarly pursuits, she entered a chamber filled with arcane artifacts and symbols. In the center of this enigmatic room stood a massive stone basin filled with highly concentrated Brokilon water, above which hovered a colossal crystal ball.
Eithné's potent magical senses had alerted her to Wayne's extraordinary nature from their first encounter. As one of the most skilled seers in the Northern Kingdoms, she sought answers to her doubts in this chamber dedicated to divination.
Approaching the crystal ball, she began chanting incantations in ancient tongue, her hands resting on its smooth surface. As her dryad magic surged into the orb, fleeting images flickered within its depths.
With each passing moment, the queen's expression shifted, from doubt to shock, then to bewilderment, and finally to elation. Only after releasing the crystal ball did she murmur to herself, a complex blend of emotions coloring her voice:
"The prophecy has changed. The future is altered! This witcher, bears the blood of the Elder Race and is the fabled child of destiny. Though the mists of fate surrounding him remain impenetrable, there is no doubt his choices will shape the world's future."
"The tragic fate of the elves, dryads, dwarves, halflings, our non-human races seems to have shifted because of this man," Eithné mused. "Perhaps I should take action."
With this thought, the Dryad Queen moved to a mist-wreathed pool at the rear of her dwelling, its waters rich with the rejuvenating magic of Brokilon. The divination spell had been brief, but its mana drain was immense, even for a sorceress of her caliber.
Shedding her garments, Eithné immersed herself in the pool, replenishing her depleted energies through a unique dryad ritual. As she did so, her mind churned with the question of how to approach Wayne, this witcher who was seemingly the child of destiny. As leader of the dryads, what actions should she take?