Chapter 338: Eithné of the Silver Eyes
Agläis was the head of the physicians of Brokilon, and as such, she would be most familiar with biomechanics and healing.
Besides her, there was another treasure to be found in Brokilon: the inexhaustible Water of Brokilon, also known as the Water of Life.
No matter how fatal the injury, as long as the wounded person was still clinging to life, they could be placed in a tub filled with the Water of Brokilon and be revived.
Therefore, in the future, if a Witcher initiate were to be held in a tub full of the Water of Brokilon during the Trial of the Grasses, and a sorcerer's stabilizing spell were also used, the survival rate would surely skyrocket, even with the un-modified mutations.
The Witcher world may not have the idiom "putting our heads together," but Mousesack understood what Lynn was trying to say.
"If you need more experts, you won't get enough with just druids and dryads. You'll need an experienced sorcerer, seeing as Witchers were created by sorcerers in the first place."
"I already have one. The former headmistress of Aretuza, a core member of the Brotherhood of Sorcerers, Lady Tissaia de Vries."
Mousesack was stunned. Of course he had heard of Tissaia.
How could that woman have been convinced? As a rule, didn't sorcerers hold prejudice and discrimination against Witchers?
At that moment, the dryad who had gone to deliver the message returned.
"Witcher, Her Majesty the Queen has agreed to see you, but I must first blindfold you to take you to her."
"That's fine, no problem."
Lynn readily agreed.
He knew that Brokilon's capital was called Duén Canell, which meant "Place of the Oak" in Elder Speech. It was hidden deep within the forest, and its exact location had always been a mystery. Even the rare few who were allowed to enter Duén Canell were blindfolded and led in this way.
Lynn wasn't worried that the dryads would trick them or kill them. Dryads were even more straightforward and guileless than dwarves. As long as he didn't do anything to anger the Dryad Queen, even if they failed to reach an agreement, they would simply be escorted out of Brokilon.
This was also why, despite being a truly ancient race, they were constantly being encroached upon by the short-lived humans.
It wasn't that they disdained using deceit; it was that they simply didn't know how to.
However, a race so guileless would make for a great ally. At the very least, he wouldn't have to worry about betrayal.
Gared and Mousesack both obediently let the dryad blindfold them.
Only the little griffon, who had been sleeping in Lynn's backpack, was an exception.
When Lynn took it out of the bag, it was full of energy, perhaps from its long nap, and flew around the forest. The dryads couldn't catch it at all.
Finally, Lynn called it down and used food to get its attention, allowing the dryads to place a black cloth over its eyes.
...
"We have arrived, guests."
When the cloth was removed from his eyes, it took Lynn a moment to make out the scene before him.
"This is Duén Canell?"
Many of the trees here were ancient and massive, and the sky was perpetually shrouded by dense leaves. Therefore, it should have been dim, as light would struggle to pierce through the foliage.
But in fact, the leaves covering the sky seemed to have the same function as a cathedral's stained glass, making the area a kaleidoscope of colors.
As for the Water of Brokilon, it was everywhere. This precious Water of Life flowed beneath their feet, cascaded down from above, and collected in hollows.
Seeing the trio's astonishment, the guiding dryad felt a sense of pride.
She gave a light cough. "Follow me. It would be rude to keep the Queen waiting."
But just then, Mousesack suddenly asked to stay behind. He wanted to use the waiting time to get a good look at Duén Canell. He reasoned that this was an opportunity that most people would never get in their lifetimes.
Gared hesitated, then, as if something had occurred to him, he also asked to stay.
So Lynn left the griffon cub with the two of them. He was the only one to follow the dryad to the largest treehouse in Duén Canell, where he met the Dryad Queen, "Silver-Eyed" Eithné, who ruled over Brokilon.
Eithné wore a long robe woven from leaves and bark. The robe wasn't lavish, but it was enough to highlight her elevated status. Though she was ancient, her figure was still something that would make women far younger than her scream with envy, and there were few signs of the river of time on her face.
But Lynn knew that the being before him was far older than Vesemir and Mousesack combined. Eithné had likely been roaming the world long before the elves even arrived on this continent.
"Witcher Lynn, before we get to our business, I must thank you. You saved two of my children and helped Brokilon reclaim its northern forest..."
"No matter why you have come to see me, I assure you that you are completely safe in Duén Canell. And I will thank you for your good deeds in your own way."
Lynn was curious. "Our way?"
"Money. Although Brokilon has little contact with the outside world, every year, there are fools with small brains and overflowing courage who wander in here. People think they'll get rich in Brokilon, not knowing that their arrival is what enriches Brokilon."
Though he didn't know how much it would be, Lynn thanked her nonetheless. "Thank you for your generosity." He wasn't here for the reward anyway, so the amount didn't matter.
"Now, let us discuss this important matter you spoke of."
"I hope to have the honor of hiring a dryad to come to Kaer Morhen to assist me with a research project."
Eithné frowned. She hadn't expected Lynn's "important matter" to be this.
"A research project? What are you planning to do?"
Lynn didn't hide anything. The dryads were solitary on this continent with almost no allies, and they rarely left Brokilon Forest, so he didn't have to worry about his secret getting out.
"To improve the Witcher's Trial of the Grasses and increase the survival rate."
Eithné was puzzled. "Although I am secluded in Duén Canell, I have heard that Witchers are quite unpopular in the outside world. Are you not worried that this will make you a target?"
Lynn's tone was calm. "Lady Eithné, you jest. Are Witchers not already targets, whether I do this or not?"
"Centuries ago, humans fled to this continent. Even putting aside the conflicts with the elves, this land was far from livable. Lady Eithné, I'm not a man who likes to boast about the past; I am simply stating a fact:"
"Humans can now live freely on this continent and breathe freely. Even with the monsters that still appear, their numbers are far fewer. And all of this is thanks to the Witchers' sacrifice."
"Witchers gave so much, and what did they get in return?"
At this, Lynn smiled faintly before continuing.
"Lady Eithné, just as you and your fellow dryad warriors fight for Brokilon, I am simply fighting for the Witcher race. If I do nothing, our situation won't improve in the slightest. Eventually, this race that gave everything for humanity will perish."
"When that day comes, future generations will no longer remember our dedication and sacrifice. They will only mock us as freakish mutants. I simply don't want to see that future."
(End of Chapter)
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