"Now that everything's taken care of, can we discuss payment?" Geralt brushed the weeds off himself and walked toward the three of them.
"What do you want?" Miley asked in return.
With that, Miley led the three into the best-preserved reception hall in the elven ruins.
The reception hall covered roughly two or three hundred square meters, much smaller than the hall at Kaer Morhen. One of its doors was carved with exquisite elven runes and symbols representing nature. The other had long since vanished, leaving only a damaged opening.
As Witt stepped into the reception hall, he looked up at the dome. The magical crystals used for lighting had long since lost their luster, and many were missing. Cracks had also appeared in the exquisite murals engraved on both walls. Everything presented a picture of decay.
Some wounded elves and elven children were resting and playing in the reception hall. When they saw Miley enter, they all crowded around her.
"Miley, can we live here forever? It feels so nice here. Is this our home?" An elven child hugged Miley's leg and looked up as she asked.
Miley's gaze softened. She stroked the child's face, dulled by malnutrition, not knowing what to say. She was very fond of Eileen, a child who shared her gray-green hair.
She, too, wished she could tell the children they could stay here forever, but the current shortage of supplies, coupled with the risk of being discovered at any moment, forced Miley to put departure on the agenda.
The child's mother, standing nearby, seemed to notice Miley's difficulty answering. "Eileen, stop pestering Miley. She's already exhausted after her patrol, and she has guests."
Eileen glanced at Witt, Geralt, and Old Graz behind Miley. Already somewhat timid because of her past experiences, she nevertheless kept her eyes fixed on Witt.
Witt also noticed the elven child who looked like a porcelain doll. He gave her a friendly wave and greeted her. "Hi."
Eileen quickly ducked back, hiding fearfully beneath the hem of Miley's clothes, yet still peeking out at Witt.
"All right, all right, Eileen. Keep this up and Mommy will get angry!" the elven mother said, picking Eileen up and carrying her away.
After that brief interlude, they sat down around the wooden table in the center of the reception hall.
"These are all we have left to trade." Miley took out a cloth bag containing intact magical crystals that had fallen from the dome.
After more than a hundred years, the magical crystals had long since lost their former luster. The energy-storage runes inscribed within them during their creation had also almost ceased to function, leaving only the elves' exquisite craftsmanship and their use as lighting.
Old Graz picked up a thumb-sized crystal and examined it. "Hmm... Although they've lost their ability to store energy, craftsmanship this fine should still fetch something if they're sold as ornaments. Unfortunately, runes have already been inscribed inside them. If there were one without any runes inside, it could be used as material for a megascope."
Delighted, Miley said, "Wonderful. I have some without runes inside." As she spoke, she tipped all the crystals out of the bag. Sure enough, among the dozens of crystals were several without runes.
Miley picked those out and offered them to Geralt and Witt. Geralt did not reach for them, but said calmly, "If they're really suitable for making megascopes, as Old Graz says, one crystal will be enough. After all, megascope materials can fetch several hundred crowns even in Vizima. The price would be higher in Oxenfurt."
Witt, meanwhile, curiously picked up a crystal inscribed with runes. The instant he did, he felt a disturbance in the flame rune on his arm.
The fire elemental energy stored within it was actually flowing slowly into the magical crystal, turning it red.
He hastily let go, allowing the runed crystal to roll onto the floor.
"What's wrong?" Witt had drawn Miley's attention.
Witt shook his head, picked up the crystal with his right hand, and put it back on the table. "Nothing."
"In that case, please deal with the remaining female griffin as soon as possible. I'll give you two." Miley selected two of the crystals without runes.
"Lady Miley, could I buy a few with crowns?" Old Graz asked, then added, "I can pay a little extra. You won't lose out."
Miley shook her head. "Graz, I appreciate your honesty. If not for you, I wouldn't have known what these things were worth. But crowns are of little use to me. Trading for supplies would be best, even if I take a small loss."
With that, she looked around. Whether they were the elderly, children, and wounded sheltering from the early spring cold in the reception hall or the warriors patrolling outside, every elf's eyes were filled with hunger and thirst. Their shortage of supplies had persisted for a long time.
Even the several trades with Lowell had been nowhere near enough.
"Well..." Miley's condition put Old Graz in a difficult position. First, as a mage of the Kingdom of Kovir, he had to maintain a neutral stance. Moreover, he was currently an instructor at Ban Ard Academy and needed to answer for the reputations of both the academy and his good friend.
For all those reasons, he could not agree to the trade.
Just as the atmosphere grew somewhat quiet, Witt raised his hand to draw everyone's attention. "I have a question."
Miley and Old Graz looked at Witt, wanting to know what his question was. Geralt, however, understood his junior's character and knew what he intended to ask.
"I'd like to know, Lady Miley, exactly what you traded with Lowell."
Miley narrowed her eyes and said slowly, "I don't want to bring up my past dealings with that cultist. They make me feel ashamed. What? Have witchers, who proclaim themselves neutral, started putting on masks of hypocrisy and dispensing their justice?"
Witt sighed. He knew he had little standing to speak to her about this. "This won't affect our earlier contract, and I don't see myself as some kind of judge. Miley, this is just a small question from me, as Witt."
Miley looked at Witt and pondered for a long time, then reached into a pocket inside her clothes. Her fingers found a glass vial the size of her little finger, but the moment she drew out the little green vial, she froze.
She glanced quickly at Witt. That familiar feeling surfaced again.
How is that possible? Dryads only give birth to dryads. Impossible. I must be imagining it. That sense of familiarity might be because he has elven blood. Turmoil surged within her, but she maintained her outward calm.
She took out the little green vial and set it on the table. Old Graz was the first to pick it up.
"This is..." He uncorked it, and an aura brimming with vitality spread from the vial.
Witt knew that aura. It came from the distant past, from dark dreams submerged in the depths.
Old Graz raised a hand to waft the scent toward his face and sniffed it carefully, then exclaimed in surprise, "These are the Waters of Brokilon!"
Hearing that name, Geralt could not help looking at Witt.
Is this the power of destiny? he mused silently.