Chapter 109: The Second Blade of Destiny
Mousesack quietly raised a finger and pointed behind Arthur.
It was Kolgrim's wagon. In Brokilon, it had been stripped down to a mere flatbed, but now it sported a dozen new makeshift rails spears bound together to secure the thirty-odd suits of chainmail and helmets piled within, preventing them from sliding off the edges. The wheels were pressed deep into the earth by the weight of this towering heap of trophies, seeming to silently accuse Arthur for his casual remark, 'Do I look like such a violent man?'
"You can't pin that on me." Arthur found his ability to control his emotions growing stronger with each passing day. Even faced with this embarrassing sight, he calmly offered a reasonable explanation: "These fellows were the blades of the Night Crows, the black gauntlets of the Verden monarchy. They traveled all this way to the Brugge border to cause trouble and then tried to kill us to eliminate witnesses."
"As I see it, the responsibility for things escalating to this point rests entirely with them."
"By the way, do you know how they use the sword-shaped feathers on their tattoos to track their missions?" He reached for a scabbard on the wagon, intending to show the Druid the wing tattoo on the corpse's right collarbone.
Mousesack waved his hand, stopping Arthur. "Don't bother. I know what the Night Crows are. What I'm curious about is how six adults managed to defeat over thirty of them?"
Arthur offered a slight grin. "I have a very capable group of companions. Frankly, the number who died by my hand is less than the fingers on one hand!"
Seeing Arthur still refuse to answer directly, the Druid's expression grew more serious. But Ciri suddenly burst out:
"Arthur is telling the truth! These bad men wanted to start a war between the dryads and Brugge. They claimed Viscount Fesnet died by the dryads' hands, and that I also died in Brokilon."
"But look? I'm standing here perfectly fine, and Fesnet stayed behind because he has to marry a dryad named Braenn…"
Despite being a princess, Ciri was like any other little girl her age, eager to demonstrate her intelligence, and once she started talking, she couldn't stop.
Mousesack adjusted his tall hat with annoyance, settling Ciri to stand firmly on the sled.
"Since you vouch for it, I will accept your account. Come, we must hurry and leave."
"Wait! I'm not going to Verden! I won't marry that Kristan! He's fat and ugly, has bad breath, and he's even more cowardly than Dandelion!" But the moment Mousesack let go, Ciri leaped to the ground, hands on her hips, shouting furiously.
"Hey, I didn't offend you!" Dandelion protested with a laugh, having been unjustly dragged into the matter.
"Who said anything about taking you to Verden?" Mousesack patiently explained: "Not long after you left, your grandmother changed her mind. She also decided Kristan wasn't a suitable match for a marriage alliance."
"Furthermore, by allowing his men to attack a caravan, King Ervy can no longer be trusted. Forget Verden. You will never set foot in that kingdom again. We're going straight back to Cintra Geralt, are you coming with us?"
"What? Why?" Geralt, called out suddenly, looked bewildered.
"You know very well. This child, she is your Child of Destiny."
The two men huddled together, arguing quietly, their voices low, clearly unwilling to let others in on the discussion.
Arthur turned to Dandelion. The bard knew almost everything about Geralt.
The poet habitually picked up his lute, and to the tune of a soothing melody, began to tell the story.
Most stories begin with a lavish banquet, and this one was no exception.
Initially, the feast was held to deal with a hedgehog-headed monster who sought to claim Pavetta the Princess of Cintra, Ciri's mother through the Law of Surprise.
But by the end, not only was the hedgehog monster freed from his curse and happily married to the beauty, but Queen Calanthe herself married Eist Tuirseach, an adventurer from Skellige.
Ciri, still in Pavetta's womb, became Geralt's Child of Surprise, or rather, his Child of Destiny.
"I suspect the Druid is mostly trying to persuade Geralt to abandon the idea of making Ciri a witcher."
"But that's unnecessary. Geralt gave up on taking the child the moment he learned Pavetta bore a girl even Alzur himself couldn't turn a girl into a witcher."
As Dandelion concluded his narration, the argument between Geralt and Mousesack also drew to a close.
"Fellows, much as I hate to, I have to say goodbye." Geralt's fingers unconsciously stroked his horse's mane, his face bearing an expression of 'trying hard to find a good excuse but utterly failing.'
"Don't think you can abandon me so easily. I am your Destiny!" Ciri suddenly leaped up with the characteristic dexterity and strength of her age, clutching Geralt's trouser leg and scrambling onto the horse's back. Mousesack merely watched with a smile.
"Mousesack, you know what life is like for a witcher! I can't let her live next door to death!" Geralt, soothing Ciri, pleaded urgently in a low voice to the Druid.
But the old man merely stroked his beard: "There is no point in running away. Besides, is a future where the child marries some foreign prince she neither likes nor knows truly better than following you?"
This statement took everyone by surprise. They had assumed the Druid was trying to persuade Geralt to let go, but instead, he was urging Geralt to take Ciri with him.
"Old man, do you know what you're doing?" The situation was simple enough that even the dwarf understood the severity: "Ciri isn't just some farmer's daughter. Her grandmother is Queen Calanthe, the Lioness of Cintra. If she hears you handed her precious granddaughter over to a witcher, I doubt she'll award you a bonus."
"Of course, I know. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree; I can just imagine Calanthe's rage by looking at Ciri." The Druid fretfully stroked his beard: "But the cost of not doing so will only be greater Ciri has been surrounded by the forces of destiny since birth. Geralt is fated to become her guardian."
Dandelion nodded thoughtfully, speaking in his usual solemn yet flowery tone: "The Sword of Destiny has two edges. The first is me. The second is Death, which follows me like a shadow."
"Are you saying that if Geralt refuses Ciri, his life will be in danger?"
Mousesack's face was grave, like a stone statue that could nod: "That is the best result I can imagine. You must understand, Ciri is Calanthe's granddaughter, the royal heir of Cintra…"
The air grew heavy as a stone. Everyone understood the unspoken conclusion Mousesack alluded to:
If Geralt chose to flee, not only would his life be in danger, but all of Cintra could face an existential crisis. That would be a catastrophe for the entire Northern Kingdoms.