Chapter 117: Corvo, Your Flaw is Showing!
Although there were two spellcasters in the party, burying the dead still consumed a significant amount of time.
By the time they finally set off toward Cintra, the sun had already climbed high above the treetops.
Mousesack and Geralt rode side-by-side, discussing the topic of destiny with grave expressions. Ciri was sent to ride with Koglgrim; the little girl strained her neck in the Witcher's arms, trying to hear what the adults were saying. Arthur, meanwhile, had acquired a bow from somewhere and was receiving archery instruction from Maria.
Maria's lesson was completely different from what he expected. She didn't correct his grip on the bow or explain the principles of aiming. Instead, she simply told Arthur to loose arrows randomly into the sky, focusing only on the arrow's trajectory.
"Is this how you learned archery?"
Arthur rubbed his brow. In the few hours since they started, he had blindly fired hundreds of arrows. Now his mind was filled entirely with the graceful, weaving curves the shafts traced through the wind. He wasn't sure if his archery had improved, but the controlling distance of his Mage's Hands had certainly increased.
Maria shook her head: "My archery was taught to me hand-by-hand by my father. He told me to shoot the rabbits on the hill outside our door; if I hit one, we ate meat."
Arthur understood: "Is it because the Ancient Sage's Oath forbids casually killing animals, so you told me to shoot blindly first to get a feel for drawing the bow?"
Maria shook her head again: "I didn't think that deeply. I just feel the Dryads' beginner course is better—in Brokilon, a novice archer must spend a good amount of time observing how an arrow drifts in the wind at different altitudes and directions."
"They only learn to hit a target when they can imagine the arrow's trajectory after it leaves the string. In that process, they naturally learn how to hold the bow."
"Though the learning efficiency might be lower, from the results, this method cultivates better marksmen." Maria's explanation was particularly detailed, as if she were worried Arthur wouldn't believe her.
But how could Arthur not believe it? The reason he asked the question was because in that short time, his Archery Proficiency had already broken through the Apprentice level, and the progress bar was quickly closing in on Expert.
"…Do you think that Corvo will send people to harass us again?"
Everyone else was busy with their own matters, leaving Zoltan's only conversation partner Dandelion. But the poet invariably steered the conversation back to poems and rhymes after a few sentences, forcing the dwarf to awkwardly pull the topic back repeatedly.
Dandelion hesitated: "Surely not. We'll reach Dillingen in half a day, and south of that is Cintra. Whatever he wants to do, he's running out of time. Remember, Brugge is a vassal state of Cintra. Even if that Corvo manages to collude with the Brugge nobility, they wouldn't dare send people after us into Cintra itself."
Zoltan grinned widely: "I bet ten Novigrad crowns that something else will happen soon."
"An arrogant maniac like that, who thinks he controls everything, won't accept defeat easily. Even if it's just to annoy us, he'll try something."
"Ptooey, ptooey, you spit that out!" The poet pounded the dwarf's shoulder, looking annoyed: "I've had enough of screams and the smell of blood! The only two things I crave now are a banquet and music! I can already see them waving at me from Cintra!"
Alas, the banquet and music so cherished by the poet were clearly destined to be postponed. Just as the walls of Dillingen came into distant view, Arthur abruptly stopped his archery practice and turned to look behind them.
The dust on the road had been dried by the intensified sunlight. When hooves passed quickly, the plume of dust kicked up could be seen for miles.
"You and your big mouth! You actually summoned trouble!"
Amidst the sound of drawn blades, Dandelion glared angrily at Zoltan and spurred his horse next to Koglgrim: "We should move to the front. This place is about to see things unsuitable for children."
The dust cloud kicked up by hooves quickly caught up to Arthur and his group. Surprisingly, this time, it wasn't bandits or soldiers who arrived, but a lone rider.
He was not much older than Arthur, tall and handsome, with golden hair flowing out from beneath his wide-brimmed hat. His pure white tunic draped down his straight back like a waterfall. If this were in the city, some bold girl might have offered him flowers.
Now, his shining green eyes swept over the group from beneath the wide brim: "Which of you is Arthur Dayne?"
"Who are you, and what do you want with me?"
The young man's next move actually sparked a measure of admiration in Arthur—the moment he heard Arthur confirm his name, he immediately spurred his horse forward:
"I am the Royal Guardsman of King Venzlav. I have just received a message indicating your close involvement in the massacre that occurred at Lynbach village. Please return with me to stand trial."
After making his statement, the Guardsman realized he was being targeted by several drawn swords, and his face instantly turned scarlet with rage: "Do you intend to resist arrest?"
"You are not authorized to arrest me." Arthur held his left hand out, signaling everyone to hold their fire.
The fact that this man rode alone might be dismissed as mere recklessness, but attempting to force the issue despite the huge numerical disadvantage—this symptom was strikingly similar to the bandits from yesterday who charged headlong despite being clearly outmatched!
He glanced sideways. Mousesack gave a subtle nod, confirming that the young man's mind had also been muddled by magic.
Arthur pulled a medallion from beneath his collar: "Do you know what this is?" He had learned his lesson. Against these nobles and bureaucrats, confronting them immediately with evidence and law was useless. It was necessary to use rank to suppress them first.
The young man's face went pale, and he instinctively retreated a few steps: "A Knight of the Royal Seat... You are a Temerian!"
Arthur and Mousesack exchanged glances, recognizing the 'I knew it' look in each other's eyes.
Indeed. Corvo's magic could only influence the target's perception of danger. Once the focus was redirected to another topic, rationality immediately returned.
Arthur pressed his advantage: "You claimed you came to find me only after receiving a message. Then I ask you: When did you receive this message, and when did the massacre occur? How much time did it take for you to travel from your starting point to catch up with us?"
These questions, delivered like Maria's volley of arrows, struck the young man dumb. He lowered his head and silently calculated for a moment, then his face registered astonishment: "I received the message during my shift this morning, and after inspecting the scene, I pursued you. As for the massacre…"
He swallowed hard, saying with difficulty: "There were indeed dozens of bodies outside Lynbach village, but judging by their physique, most of them weren't farmers; they looked like well-trained soldiers…"
He dismounted his horse and knelt on one knee before Arthur.
From the perspective of heraldry, a Royal Guardsman held the same rank as a Knight of the Royal Seat—both were honored, though often nominal, titles sworn directly to the crown. Even if he had erred, there was no need for such a submissive posture.
But the reality was that even without Temeria demanding anything, Brugge's every move had to consider Temeria's reaction. For example, King Venzlav's policy toward Brokilon was mild compared to the Verdeners, who often threatened war. But was this genuinely because he loved peace more than timber and mineral wealth?
No. It was because to the north stood a behemoth that shared a nearly thousand-mile border with the dryads! And that behemoth wanted the border of Brokilon to remain peaceful!
The young man removed his hat and gloves, placed his left hand on his sword sheath, and bowed respectfully: "My name is James Lambert, sworn to King Venzlav. I sincerely apologize for the unsubstantiated accusations I made against you. How may I restore the damage to your reputation?"
Hearing that name, Arthur struggled desperately to suppress his grin, maintaining a calm expression on his face.