System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 165
In the bedchamber, beneath dim light, half of the small figure’s face was hidden in shadow.
“Witcher, we can speak freely now.”
“Your Highness ... why did you send all the maids away?”
“There are some things...” Ciri clasped her hands behind her back and put on a solemn little face, trying very hard to look grown. “Ahem. Some things I only want to say to you alone.”
“Let me guess.” The young Witcher lowered his voice. “You do not wish to be betrothed to Prince Kristin, and you want me to help you run away.”
“H-how do you know?” Ciri sprang up like a startled kitten and pointed at the Witcher, doing her utmost to look fierce. “Speak. Did Calanthe send you to spy on this princess?”
“You misunderstand me.” Roy met the little princess’s eyes with an earnest expression, barely suppressing his amusement. “Not only do I understand your trouble, I also know that from time to time you have strange nightmares. Especially after being frightened or agitated, you dream of a band of terrifying spectral riders hunting you.”
The little girl’s mouth fell open. He had bluffed her so thoroughly that she was momentarily dazed.
“Funny thing, isn’t it? Your Highness and I dream the same dream. Only in mine, you are there as well, and you told me many secrets.” Roy stepped toward her, but for every step he took, Ciri instinctively retreated one step.
“Your companions, Hjalmar and Cerys. Your parents, Lady Pavetta and Lord Duny.”
“You mean it? You’re not lying to me?”
“Think carefully, Your Highness. It was no accident that you brought me into the palace. It was fate. We are the same kind of people. Sooner or later, we were bound to meet.” Bewilderment surfaced in Ciri’s emerald eyes. She was still too young to fully grasp the Witcher’s meaning.
Roy was not entirely making it up, either. After swallowing the Blood of the Sun, a thin trace of Elder Blood flowed in him as well.
“If you still do not believe me, how about a wager?”
“A wager?” Ciri’s eyes lit up. Once playfulness took hold, she was no longer so afraid. “Witcher, all that mysterious talk of yours goes over my head, but I understand a wager.”
“Call me Roy. I’m not that much older than you, Your Highness.”
“Roy, then tell me. How shall we wager?” Ciri ran excitedly to a drawer and pulled out a sapphire necklace. “I’ll put up the stake first.”
She was treating this like a splendid game.
“No, Your Highness. No wager is needed.” Roy gently shook his head. “You only need to remember what I say, every single word.”
“After this trip to Verden for your betrothal, your marriage to Prince Kristin will not come to pass.”
“You mean I won’t have to marry that dead fat lump?” Ciri burst into motion at once, happy as a foal let loose, darting around the room on tiptoe, lifting the hem of her little dress.
“And during this journey between Cintra and Verden, you will encounter a white-haired Witcher. When the time comes, you may call him Geralt directly.”
“You dreamed all that?” Ciri stopped spinning, fine little lines gathering in her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Roy...” The little girl called out suddenly. Clutching her skirt, she stepped closer and tilted her head up to look at the Witcher.
Though she was already eight, Ciri’s growth was slow. She stood only four feet tall, not even reaching the chest of the six-foot Witcher.
“What is it?”
“I’m glad you told me these secrets.” Ciri smiled, open and pleased. “You’re not like the other fools. You didn’t hide everything from me and treat me like some little brat to be fobbed off.”
“Of course. Friends should treat each other honestly.”
At that moment, knocking sounded suddenly from outside the door, followed by the anxious voice of a palace maid.
“Knock, knock, knock ... Your Highness, are you well?”
“Coming, coming.” Ciri shouted back impatiently. “Dragon Slayer Roy, it’s time for your adventure stories.”
...