Chapter 96: Who Isn't a Speaker of the Woods?
Arthur was genuinely disgusted by Eithné's move.
Maria, after all, had risked life and limb for the dryads. Yet, merely for speaking up for herself, she was suspected of disloyalty and her mind was to be erased. When that cleansing failed, the Queen simply exposed her secret publicly, believing she had won a victory…
This conduct, which sought to deny others any benefit even without gaining one herself, was truly exceptional in its depravity, even by human standards.
It was this deep sense of outrage that caused Arthur to blurt out that immortal condemnation.
Unfortunately, though the Dryad Queen's skin appeared delicate and pale, it was tougher than armor plating. Faced with Arthur's furious rebuke, she endured it silently without saying a word!
She truly was a terrifying woman.
"We are leaving now. You can try to stop us."
With the situation having devolved to this point, Arthur was utterly disgusted with this place. He threw down the challenge and, taking Maria's hand, walked toward the great hall entrance.
Zoltan unashamedly spat on the ground, muttering in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear:
"By the gods, turning on your own kind—what kind of filth is that!"
Geralt looked at Eithné, his lips moving a few times, but in the end, Dandelion pulled him away before he could say anything.
Ciri took Maria's hand, quietly consoling her:
"Don't be afraid. If you have nowhere to go, I can ask my grandmother to let you be my archery teacher."
Only the eldest, Koglgrim, stepped forward to offer a formal farewell:
"Madam Eithné, we respect the dryads' rights in Brokilon. Though your attitude is deeply regrettable, this meeting was ultimately beneficial. We shall now lead all our companions and depart your territory, and we hope you maintain a good grace to preserve opportunities for future cooperation."
"And by the way, the Elf who plotted the ambush against us—we leave her for you to dispose of. We do this because we understand the dryads and Elves have always been close, and we wish to express our goodwill toward Brokilon."
Eithné's voice was squeezed out between her teeth:
"I was pleased by your visit. I hope we shall have occasion to meet again."
"The path through Duen Canell is complex. I will arrange for someone to guide you."
She waved her hand at Faiv, and the young dryad immediately stepped forward to join them.
In the depths of the Duen Canell forest.
"Damn it, why is it so foggy all of a sudden? My nose is as wet as a dog's!"
Zoltan grumbled discontentedly. He held a piece of cloth, constantly wiping his bald head, which quickly became soaked.
The fog the dwarf was complaining about was indeed dense, like milk poured into water. Beyond fifteen feet, it was almost impossible to make out a person's silhouette. They were forced to link themselves together with a vine to proceed.
"This fog is certainly strange."
Although his outer coat was already damp with mist, Dandelion's expression remained composed and cheerful. He asked Faiv:
"You don't seem to be affected by the fog? You can still clearly make out the way."
Facing the troubadour, a blush rose on Faiv's cheeks, and her speech became hesitant:
"Well, that's because, uh, moving through the fog is a dryad talent. We can, um, that is, uh…"
"You can communicate with the trees and have them show you the way?" Arthur completed the rest of her sentence for her.
Faiv nodded, then shook her head:
"My magical talent isn't up to the level of a Speaker of the Woods, but I can indeed hear some of the trees' whispers. For example, the tree ahead has lived for 372 years. With a little help from a Speaker of the Woods, it could become a Treant…"
The little dryad suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth, seemingly realizing that the person she was talking to was Arthur, the one who had just nearly driven the Queen mad. She sealed her lips tightly, her cheeks puffed out like a hamster, giving him an unmistakable 'I cannot speak to you' look.
Arthur didn't mind her childish antics. He stepped forward to the massive tree, placed his palm against the trunk, and tentatively asked:
"Hey, old friend, can you push your roots out so we can hitch a ride?"
The tree's response was a deep, resonant tremor, like a giant turning over in its sleep. Beneath everyone's feet, the soil buckled and the tree's roots surfaced from the ground. They became not only thicker but also appeared to be deliberately manicured: the roots around the sides gathered inward, transforming into a flat, sturdy root-floor, while the roots in front stretched out, becoming a set of steps.
"This is…" Zoltan stared at the transformation open-mouthed, then looked back at the massive tree. For a moment, he couldn't find the words to describe his shock.
Faiv's face, meanwhile, looked as if she had seen a ghost. She let out a sharp cry and bolted, but after only a few dozen feet, Geralt gently placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her fast.
"Dryad talent, can't you all do this?" Arthur asked deliberately, a touch of smugness in his eyes.
Faiv struggled, trying to escape Geralt's grip, panting rapidly, nearly in tears:
"No! We can't! We can only hear the tree's whispers. Only a Speaker of the Woods can make a tree reshape itself to their will!"
Her voice trembled as if soaked in ice water: "You just… made it move!"
The dryads' profound reverence for the natural world made them more terrified than humans when faced with such phenomena.
Geralt frowned, looking toward Arthur: "What are you doing? This is certainly not ordinary magic."
"It's just a little parlor trick, Geralt." Arthur smiled lightly, turning to the group: "Climb aboard now, old friends. This tree will guide us out of the fog."
They climbed onto the flat root-floor, and the 372-year-old ancient tree slowly began to move. The roots were like countless enormous snakes, twisting and sliding through the soil, carrying the tree forward. The surrounding fog was pushed away by the colossal body, revealing a clear path ahead.
Faiv continued to struggle in Geralt's grasp, but her struggle had shifted from terror to awe.
"Speaker of the Woods…" she muttered, her eyes filled with reverence.
Arthur turned his head, giving her a bright, sunny smile: "If that's what you mean by a Speaker of the Woods, then, who isn't a Speaker of the Woods?"
"Old friend, are you really 372 years old?"
"Ha, it only has the qualification to become a Treant right now, it's not a real Treant, how could it talk to you?" Seeing Arthur's serious demeanor, Faiv instantly broke character and laughed.
But Arthur felt a friendly rhythmic pulse in his palm, and immediately heard a slow, deliberate voice in his ear:
"The little one knows nothing. She's bragging falsely. I have lived through at least five hundred summers and five hundred autumns."
It actually answered! Arthur was pleasantly surprised, and he immediately asked: "Do you want to become a Treant?"
The Great Tree: "To go look at other places? That sounds very interesting."
It agreed? Arthur's eyes flickered. He was suddenly curious about Faiv's reaction if he were to promote this Great Tree into a Treant right now.
He turned to Faiv: "How does a Speaker of the Woods promote a Great Tree into a Treant?"
Faiv darted up the tree's branches, swinging her feet in their bark sandals as she laughed:
"You rascal, you're very convincing at acting! Hmm, let me think. When Grandmother Bianca was still alive, I think she said you just need to provide enough Speaker of the Woods' magic."
Arthur raised an eyebrow, finding the matter unexpectedly simple. Operating on the principle of nothing ventured, nothing gained, he extended both hands, placed them on the tree's roots, and began to channel his magical energy into it.
At first, he was concerned that providing the magic too quickly would burst the tree's vascular system. But he immediately discovered that the Great Tree absorbed the magic faster than drinking water, showing no signs of strain.
Having cell walls really is something remarkable…
"What do I do now? Let it digest slowly by itself?" Seeing the entire tree trunk start to glow with magical light, Arthur stopped—he had already infused a third of his internal magical reserves. Any more, and he was genuinely afraid he might damage the Great Tree.
But Faiv merely sat dumbfounded on the branch, too surprised to say a single word.
Alright then. It seemed the little dryad really was just bragging. This matter was still up to him.
Arthur flipped through the Druid section of the Book of Illusions, intending to see how humans created Treants. The text, however, only mentioned injecting a sufficient amount of magic, with no details on other operational specifics.
"Old friend, can you still handle it?" Arthur's gaze hardened a bit. A third of his magic was already injected. Giving up now would not only mean failure but also leave him ignorant of the cause of failure.
"No problem! My roots aren't full yet." The Great Tree's tone remained slow, but it was noticeably more excited.
Seeing that the Great Tree could handle it, Arthur decided to mobilize all his magical energy and pour it in all at once. It was only because his total magical reserves had multiplied several times after dealing with the Elf Wraith that he could afford such a flooding approach.
Finally, when Arthur had only one-fifth of his magic left, the Great Tree finally signaled that it couldn't take any more.
Like a sudden downpour, the tree's canopy violently shook, gathering itself into four thick arms. Next, the ground surged like a wave, and two long legs, thicker than house beams, burst from the soil.
Faiv shrieked, tumbling off the branch, only to be caught by a giant hand. Before her was a pair of lantern-sized eyes gazing at her with curiosity.
"A Treant… I've actually seen a Treant!" Faiv rubbed her eyes in disbelief.
[End of Volume]
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