The Divine Hunter
C.161: gets released!
Cintra Castle.
A petite girl was sitting on the windowsill in her room, swinging her legs back and forth. She stared at the roads beneath, where the kingdom’s people were going about with their lives. She had grey hair and a pair of beautiful green eyes, though they were filled with frustration. “Hjalmar, Cerys, where are you? I miss you two,” she mumbled, and the girl buried her face in her hands as she started to cry.
“Oh my goodness.” Sounds of hurried footsteps rang in the room, and someone suddenly picked Ciri up from the windowsill. “My dear Ciri, what did I tell you? Never go near somewhere so dangerous.” The woman looked like she was in her forties, and she was gorgeous. There were wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, but they couldn’t cover her beauty, and she had a gentle voice as well. “You are my only relative left. If something were to happen to you, it would be devastating for me.”
The woman was in a resplendent, noble dress, and her eyes were as beautiful as emeralds. However, the stress lines that flowed down the sides of her nose made her look stern, while her thin lips and tall nose added to her air of cockiness.
“Put me down!” The young girl grunted, though she sounded like she was just playing around.
The older lady pressed down on Ciri’s shoulder and straightened her up. They locked gazes, but neither of them refused to take a step back. “I am worried about you, Ciri. Please never climb up the windowsill ever again, alright?”
“No.” The girl looked up indignantly. “I grew up on the Skellige Isles, and Crach told me I should be a free soul on the seas instead of a prisoner locked up in a castle. You’ve kept me cooped up in this place, and now you’re taking my only entertainment away too?”
The older lady sighed. “Promise me you won’t run away, and I will give you your freedom.”
“Promise me you won’t marry me off to that pig and I won’t run away,” the girl mocked.
“Enough!” Calanthe roared, and she shot up angrily. The fury in her eyes was like a storm, and she imperiously silenced the girl. Scared, the girl hung her head low. “Ciri, I know you haven’t been feeling too happy,” the lady said coldly. “But as the princess of Cintra, it is your responsibility to help me govern the kingdom. Enough of your tomfoolery.”
“But…” The girl’s voice became a whisper. “But I’ve promised Hjalmar I’ll marry him.”
“That is nonsense! That contract is invalid!”
“How so? Cerys was the witness, and Pavetta gave her blessing,” the girl whispered, and she teared up.
Calanthe held her fury down, and she spoke painfully, “I promised Pavetta that I would find a good husband for you. You have heard about the fairytale between a prince and a princess. You are a noble, and only a prince is fit to be your husband. Kistrin of Verden is the perfect choice.” Calanthe persuaded, “Kistrin might be pudgy, but just like you, he is a child. I am sure he will grow into a handsome prince.”
“Then I can get betrothed to him when he’s handsome enough,” Ciri retorted as she stomped her feet, but she did not realize the consequences of her actions.
Calanthe flew into a rage and ordered her soldiers to keep the windows shut, then she locked Ciri in the room with nothing but dolls and books as her friends. “You will be staying in your room and reflecting upon yourself. Once the time comes, you will go to Verden whether you want to or not.” Calanthe stormed off without saying another word. The lioness of Cintra would never bow to anyone, not even her own granddaughter.
“Hmph!” Ciri glared at her grandmother and hissed. She then picked up a thick book and hurled it onto her bed, knocking down a few dolls on the way. “This is so dull.”
Ciri grew up on Skellige Isles, and she was a more active child. She went around skiing, racing, and fishing for crabs. Books and dolls bored her out of her mind. She lay on her bed and swung her legs in boredom. A long while later, Ciri was about to fall asleep, but then she heard someone opening her door, and she leaped out of bed in excitement. “My dear Amy! You are finally here.”
“Please, Your Highness. Be more gentle. You don’t want to fall down.” The girl in the yellow dress hugged Ciri happily and led her to the bed. “Why are the windows shut? Did you cross the queen again?” The girl scraped Ciri’s nose in amusement while Ciri squirmed around in her embrace.
“She’s forcing me to marry that pig again. I don’t want to!”
“Well…” The girl looked troubled. “The queen doesn’t want this either, but the South is getting bolder… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up.”
“Quick, tell me something interesting.” Ciri held the girl’s hand happily. “It’s Midaete today. Did you run into something interesting out there? Tell me all about it.”
“Oh, I did run into something interesting today.” The girl told Ciri everything about what she saw in the marketplace.
“A basilisk? Wait, you say it’s actually a griffin? And there’s a witcher there? And the witcher tamed that beast? And he killed the ghoul for the owner?” Ciri kept gasping when her friend told her about the highlights of the story. Her face was red with excitement and she punched her bed. She really wanted to be there, but her circumstances stopped her.
“So what does a witcher look like? Are they as bizarre as the legends say? Do they have white hair and eyes like a beast?”
The girl shook her head. “The rumors are exaggerated. They paint witchers in a bad light. The witcher I saw looks just like you and me. Like a normal human, though his eyes are dark gold. That’s the only difference.”
“Hey, my eyes are different too.” Delight and affection for the witcher welled up within Ciri’s eyes.
“Your eyes are prettier, but the witcher isn’t half bad. His looks are decent.”
“So he tamed the griffin? I thought griffins would never bow to anyone.”
“It’s just a young and weakened griffin,” the girl corrected. “A wolf is probably stronger than it is, and it hasn’t learned about a griffin’s loyalty.”
That didn’t stop Ciri from being astonished. “But it’s a griffin nonetheless. It’s not some random beast. No one I knew back on Skellige Isles managed to kill a griffin before. That young witcher is a warrior.” Ciri gripped her friend’s hand nervously. “You said the witcher killed a ghoul and avenged that man’s friend, didn’t you?”
The girl nodded.
Ciri looked delighted. “So that witcher is a warrior of justice then! He is a savior sent by Freya herself! My dear Amy…” Ciri looked at Amy hopefully. “Can you ask him to save a princess locked up in a castle?”
She quickly leaped out of bed and took out a bunch of jewelry from her dressing table, then she showed it to Amy. “I can give them a lot of gol… I mean reward!” Ciri looked up seriously. “And I, princess of Cintra, heir to the Skellige Isles, shall grant him the title of knight.”
Amy laughed out loudly. She was the daughter of a Cintra noble. If she were to work with a witcher and abduct a princess who was about to marry a prince right under Calanthe’s nose, she would be sent to the guillotine. Amy only thought of that as a joke. “You jest, my princess. The queen is the highest authority in Cintra. No witcher would cross her while they are in Cintra.”
“Amy, are you just going to watch as I get married off to that ugly, rotten pig?”
“You’ve never met Prince Kistrin before. How do you know he’s rotten?” Amy waved her down and lifted her dress as she walked back to the door. “That is all for today, princess. I shall see you again after I find more interesting stories to tell.”
Ciri saw her off, and her eyes glinted with cunning. “There will always be a way.” Pavetta had talked about the good the witchers had done, and she put her hands on her hips. “They helped my parents before, so why can’t they help me? I’ll get Calanthe to invite him into the palace. If she objects, I’ll tell her I won’t see that pig.”
At the same time, a white-haired witcher was leading his horse—Roach—to Brugge’s castle. He was now northwest of Cintra at the riverside of Yaruga. There was an important request waiting for him in the castle.
As he walked up the towering stairs, a breeze brushed across his cheek, and his left eyelid started to twitch. For some reason, he had a feeling something important would befall him soon enough. “I wonder what it shall be.”
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