8

Four days later, urged on by Borch and Geralt, Wayne and his party, carrying only a minimal supply of provisions, traveled day and night. They soon left Temeria, crossed the Kingdom of Redania, and arrived at the river near Holobur City.

However, as the group sought to cross into Holobur City via the only bridge over the Bula River, they were stopped by a group of soldiers. The soldiers, clad in buttoned leather jackets and chain mail, brandished metal halberds. They guarded both ends of the river and had constructed a wooden toll hut at the bridge's entrance. From a distance, the crimson pennant emblazoned with a silver griffin pattern fluttered in the wind, and several heavily armed soldiers stood in a row, presenting a formidable sight.

As Wayne and the others approached on horseback, they noticed they were not alone in being blocked. Alongside a few villagers and travelers heading to Holobur City for business, there were also some rugged mercenaries who seemed no strangers to trouble, gathered around the river crossing toll gate, observing the commotion.

"Why won't you let us pass? This is a free city-state, not under the jurisdiction of any principality, and you have no right to stop us here!" argued a well-dressed middle-aged man, clearly a prosperous businessman. Behind him were several young men, carriages, and a few heavily armed hired guards.

The soldier in charge of guarding the bridge was evidently a rigid individual. No matter what the businessman said, the soldier's response was always the same: "I don't understand your complaints. I am merely following the king's orders. No one can cross this bridge without a pass. This is an order from Lord Caingorn, King Niedamir."

Frustrated by such obstinate obstruction, the businessman shouted, "This is the tribute and fruit for Cliff Temple in the city. I've been held here for a day. If this delay continues, these fruits will spoil."

Unfortunately, the soldier ignored him, holding his halberd firmly and repeating, "I'm only responsible for checking passes. If you have any questions, you can speak to the commander."

On the other side, the tallest of the three mercenaries suddenly spoke up, "Hmph! King Niedamir's blockade is meant to deal with the injured dragon. The dragon is poisoned and dying. They must be worried that someone will take the treasure from the dragon's nest, so they're blocking the passage to prevent capable individuals from crossing."

The soldier who spoke didn't argue but repeated, "I'm only responsible for checking passes and don't concern myself with anything else."

Seeing this, Borch glanced at Wayne and Geralt. They had agreed before setting out that Borch would follow the instructions of the two Witchers in this matter. Geralt seemed distracted, his mind clearly on Yennefer, who had yet to appear after their four-day journey.

Wayne signaled Borch to remain calm and whispered, "We've just arrived and don't have all the details. We shouldn't act rashly. Let me gather some information first."

Wayne dismounted his horse, walked to the center of the crowd, and after surveying the scene, he approached a younger soldier standing on the edge of the guards. With a gold coin in hand, Wayne asked quietly, "Soldier, may I ask you a few questions?"

The young soldier, glancing quickly at his companions still arguing with the passersby, pocketed the gold coin, cleared his throat, and replied softly, "You may ask, but I can't divulge confidential information."

With a smile, Wayne inquired, "Can you tell me how many people have crossed the bridge and when they left?"

The soldier, relieved that the question was not secretive, responded, "Three days ago, to hunt the dragon, the King issued passes to those capable of dragon hunting nearby. Eyck of Denesle, a renowned knight, crossed the bridge the day before yesterday. Following him were six dwarves, led by Yarpen Zigrin, known for their strength in battle. This morning, three fierce hunters covered in tattoos also crossed. Apart from the king's army, these are the only groups that have passed."

Wayne relayed the information to Geralt and Borch. While he had some knowledge of Eyck and Yarpen, he wasn't well-acquainted with them. Geralt, having roamed the north for many years, was more familiar with these figures.

"Eyck of Denesle," Geralt explained, "is a knight known for his prowess. People call him 'pious and righteous Eyck,' a brave knight who has defeated several dragons and other monsters like manticores and griffins."

Borch was surprised. "Is Eyck really such an expert in dragon slaying? Can an ordinary knight be so powerful?"

Geralt, expressing disdain, replied, "It's all rumor. While he might be skilled, he's known for not charging any fees for monster hunting, which is against the norms of this profession. Some have even used this to demand free services from me."

Wayne reflected on Geralt's words. Eyck appeared to be a benevolent figure, often helping villagers without accepting compensation, which led to financial difficulties for him. His son, Siegfried, grew up resenting him, becoming the head of the Flaming Rose Knights.

Geralt then took out the agnon from his pocket, took a sip of beer, and continued, "The Crinfrid Reavers are also notable hunters. They've killed dragon lizards and giant centipedes throughout Redania and are rumored to have slain three red dragons and one black dragon. They are known for using traps and poisons."

Regarding Yarpen and his dwarves, Geralt said, "They once killed a famous evil dragon in the Mahakam Mountains named Ocvist, the Dragon of Quartz Mountain, and acquired a great treasure of gems."

As they discussed these details, Wayne noticed a striking woman with long black hair, violet eyes, and a star-shaped obsidian amulet riding a tall black horse approaching. She was Yennefer of Vengerburg, the sorceress whose fate was intertwined with Geralt's. Wayne observed her for a moment before noticing Geralt's intense focus on Yennefer, emotions stirring in his usually calm eyes.

Wayne inwardly smiled; the purpose of bringing Geralt was to ensure Yennefer joined the dragon-slaying team. Yennefer was known for her stubbornness and ruthlessness.

Yennefer rode up to the bridge, her expression unreadable as she surveyed the crowd. Her gaze lingered on Geralt briefly, but she said nothing. As the crowd parted, she approached the soldiers.

The soldier at the bridge gazed greedily at Yennefer but knew better than to act. He stated rigidly, "No one can cross the bridge without a pass."

Without responding verbally, Yennefer produced a pass from her jacket pocket and handed it to the soldier. He inspected it, compared it with an original version, nodded, and whispered to another soldier before clearing the way. As Yennefer prepared to cross, Wayne called out.

"Yennefer, wait a moment."

Recognizing the voice wasn't Geralt's, Yennefer looked back to see a handsome young Witcher approaching. Despite her initial indifference, she noticed the boy's amber cat eyes and pointed ears and was intrigued. She asked in a low voice, "What's the matter, Witcher?"

Wayne, unbothered by her scrutiny, leaned in and whispered, "Ms. Yennefer, are you here to hunt dragons as well?"

Yennefer, noticing Geralt approaching awkwardly, demanded impatiently, "Speak quickly. Don't dawdle like a child. I'm in a hurry."

Wayne noticed Geralt's hesitation and said, "As a noble sorceress, you need a skilled guard for dragon hunting. How about hiring my famous companion, Geralt the White Wolf, as your guard?"

Yennefer, surprised by the offer from this unknown Witcher, considered it. Seeing Geralt's awkward stance, she took a small purse from her belt, tossed it to Wayne, and said imperiously, "Here is Two Hundred Orens. Let him come over. But if he's to be my guard, he must follow my orders and not abandon me."

Wayne, aware of Yennefer's past anger when Geralt left abruptly, replied, "No problem. Witchers always keep their promises. He will guard you faithfully."

He accepted the purse, pocketed it, and then approached Geralt. Ignoring Geralt's puzzled look, Wayne said quietly, "Brother, I'm entrusting this sorceress to you. Focus on keeping her from dragon slaying."

Geralt, dazed by the sudden arrangement, protested, "You should have discussed this with me first."

Wayne shrugged, "Time was too tight to explain."

Patting Geralt on the shoulder, Wayne said, "Remember, watch over Yennefer and keep her out of trouble until we've dealt with the others."

Without waiting for Geralt's response, Wayne handed over his mount and supplies and pushed the bewildered Witcher toward Yennefer. The sorceress, having waited impatiently, turned and left with Geralt following behind.

Watching them depart, Wayne turned back to Borch and said to the waiting trio, "Let's move on. Without a pass, we have no choice but to find another way."

Borch, curious about the relationship between Geralt and Yennefer but recognizing the urgency, nodded. He followed Wayne with Téa and Véa, and they rode off. After about ten minutes, once they were alone, Wayne addressed Borch.

"My friend, now that we're out of sight, you can reveal your true identity."

Borch, surprised, blinked and asked, "What are you talking about? My true identity?"

Wayne displayed the golden ring on his little finger and said, "Borch, or Lord Villentretenmerth, I was informed by the Goddess of the Lake that among my companions, there's an extremely rare golden dragon. It must be you. This could explain why you are keen to save the green dragon. Am I right?"

Borch, initially astonished, then stared at the ring with its mysterious aura. Laughing, he said, "I didn't expect you to be such a perceptive individual."

"Knowing I'm a dragon, why did you still accept my commission?" he asked.

Wayne shrugged with a smile, "I mentioned it during our drinks. We're friends. I don't care about race or other distinctions."

Borch laughed again, "You are indeed a remarkable person. Is this why the Goddess of the Lake favors you?"

Wayne merely smiled and didn't answer. The goddess had not revealed the identity of the Golden Dragon to him.

"Actually, I never imagined becoming friends with a dragon, especially a rare golden dragon. Golden dragons, like phoenixes, are legendary, not real."

Borch stroked his beard, smiling, "The world is vast. Until you see something with your own eyes, you can't dismiss its existence."

He continued, "As a golden dragon, my existence is a fact, and there's no reason to deny it."

Wayne grew serious, "We can discuss dragons later. I didn't reveal your identity to embarrass you. Since you are a dragon capable of flying, why worry about the troublesome pass?"

"We don't need to circumvent obstacles. We'll find a remote spot later, and you can transform into your dragon form and carry me, Véa, and Téa to the green dragon's lair."

"We'll prepare in advance in the lair. I have magical healing potions that might help the injured green dragon and alleviate her suffering."

After a few minutes, Borch, having calmed down from his initial excitement, suddenly asked Wayne with a note of sadness, "Wayne, my friend, she's too severely injured right now, and I don't know how to detoxify or use any healing magic. Before you came here, you mentioned you had a way to heal her. Is that true?"

Wayne nodded. Under Borch's watchful gaze, he retrieved a magic storage bag from his side. He took out a bottle of intermediate healing potion from Azeroth and, after a final look at the green dragon, took out another bottle. Wayne held up the bottles, showing them to Borch. Seeing this, Borch's tall golden form swayed slightly before he reverted to his human form, sighing deeply.

"Wow, a magical storage bag—what kind of strange magic item is this?" he marveled. Then, picking up the two bottles of healing potion, he smelled them and asked, "What kind of potion is this? Is it a special potion used by Witchers?"

Wayne shook his head. He had no need to fabricate any stories. He replied, "Our Witcher potions are actually powerful poisons to other creatures. This is a healing potion I obtained from a druid elder. It can heal physical wounds at an incredibly fast rate. I only have three bottles, which I keep for emergencies."

"But since we are friends, and your companion is also my friend, you should let her drink these potions quickly. While they might not fully cure her, they will alleviate her pain."

Borch was deeply moved by Wayne's generous and loyal gesture. He took the two bottles of medicine, embraced Wayne, and said, "Thank you, my friend. I am grateful on behalf of Myrgtabrakke and my unborn child. Rest assured, as a friend, I will make sure you are compensated for your kindness. Once she recovers, I will repay your generosity."

The mid-level healing potion from Azeroth proved highly effective. This general-purpose healing potion quickly replenished the depleted vitality in the green dragon. After drinking it, her pain subsided immediately, and a gurgling sound was heard from her stomach as foul-smelling smoke was expelled. Most of the toxins were rapidly discharged, and visible signs of recovery began to appear. Borch was both thrilled and astonished.

Though healing potions existed in this world, none worked so swiftly or effectively. Borch recognized the potion's value and grew increasingly grateful to Wayne. He praised the potion and reiterated his promise of generous recompense. Overjoyed, he eagerly approached the recovering green dragon.

At that moment, as the green dragon's health improved, the dragon egg she held began to crack. Under the watchful eyes of Wayne and the two dragons, the egg's top opened with several cracks, and soon a small, grayish, mucus-covered creature resembling a puppy emerged. It poked its head through the hole, inhaled the fresh air, and then spat out a mouthful of thick saliva at Borch, who was the closest.

Seeing the baby dragon's birth, Borch was even more excited than the green dragon. He danced around, extended his tongue to lick the baby dragon a few times, and happily declared to Wayne, "Haha, friend, my child is born! I am now a father."

Observing the gray young dragon, Wayne remained silent, as Borch's excitement over fatherhood wasn't something he wished to comment on. He cautiously approached the little female dragon, who would soon be named Saesenthessis, and offered sincere congratulations and blessings to Borch and the green dragon.

Who could have imagined that in less than 20 years, the dragon before him would grow up to rule Aedirn, a kingdom made up of various races?

...

Accompanied by Yennefer, Geralt successfully infiltrated the dragon hunting team organized by King Niedamir. Within the team, he encountered the competitors for this mission: Eyck of Denesle, Yarpen Zigrin from the Dwarf Squad, and the Crinfrid Reavers trio. Apart from Knight Eyck, who knelt on a stone and prayed to the sky, the Crinfrid Reavers, Yarpen, and Cliffe clearly did not welcome the presence of the sorceress Yennefer. Their audible cynicism quickly conveyed their displeasure to Geralt.

The proud sorceress ignored the rude dwarves and reavers and followed a portly steward named Gyllenstiern to the young king's tent. Yennefer was notably displeased when Geralt was stopped outside the tent as a matter of course.

After some negotiations, the sorceress whispered to Geralt, "The king is an arrogant young man, not difficult to handle. But Geralt, the rude dwarves outside and the shameless marauders are your opponents. Go, speak with them, learn about their weaknesses, and report back to me after I return."

Geralt looked at Yennefer helplessly. Everyone around him had to follow her orders. He understood that Yennefer's aloof demeanor was her way of maintaining intimacy with her own people. When dealing with outsiders like princes, nobles, or wealthy merchants, Yennefer would act as a considerate and charming friend.

He shrugged, not daring to contradict Yennefer's instructions. The time he had left without a word years ago had hurt Yennefer deeply. She remained in a state of extreme anger, and if he dared to argue, she might use magic to turn him into a mouse or throw him into a cesspit.

Holding his steel sword, Geralt nodded to Yennefer. After she entered the king's tent, he reluctantly approached the dwarves and the reavers. As he neared, the youngest among them spat on the ground, muttering curses, and said to his companion:

"Stepping in horse dung, my luck is terrible. Yesterday it was a foolish shoemaker who thought he poisoned the green dragon, and today, a damned white-haired Witcher shows up."

"What a load of crap. A Witcher and a sorceress together—what could be more disgusting than that?"

Boholt, the eldest of the Crinfrid Reavers, slapped his younger brother on the head and said, "Stop running your mouth. Witchers aren't to be trifled with. He's wielding two powerful swords and is backed by a despicable sorceress. If you keep this up, we might end up fighting them before we even see the green dragon."

Yarpen Zigrin laughed heartily, then turned to his fellow dwarves and said, "This king is a cheapskate. He hides in his tent eating venison and beef while serving us rat meat."

"Damn it, they won't even let us have a drink, yet they expect us to work for them. Humans are as foolish and greedy as ever, especially these inbred nobles."

"I've never seen such dimwits."

As a Witcher, Geralt has spent fifty years traversing the Northern Kingdoms, excluding his ten years of training at Kaer Morhen. His long life on the fringes of society has allowed him to encounter many noble individuals, but far more who are despicable and shameless, lacking any moral compass. This isn't entirely their fault. In such a chaotic and unforgiving environment, even if you manage not to harm others, you have no control over their actions.

Survival often necessitates resorting to cruelty or brutality for your own protection. Those who are excessively kind have often been utterly consumed by others. He has grown accustomed to all manner of abuse, ridicule, and provocation. These wretched people are like filth on the ground. Engaging with them, stepping on them, would only splatter the filth all over him, causing him nothing but discomfort.

Thus, Geralt disregarded the taunts of Yarpen's dwarven squad and the Crinfrid Reavers. He led his steed, Roach, and Yennefer's black mare to the temporary stable, providing them with water and fodder.

However, as the saying goes, sometimes colleagues become adversaries. While Geralt ignored them, the dragon-hunting team would not let him be.

The youngest of the Crinfrid Reavers approached Geralt, spat on the ground, and said, "White-haired Witcher, you'd better warn your Sorceress lover that dragon hunting is best left to professionals. Otherwise, she will offend many people."

Unfazed, Geralt turned around, his steel sword held firmly in his hand. With his amber cat-like eyes fixed on Boholt, he spoke nonchalantly, "Dividing the spoils before we even set off? Slaying a dragon is no easy feat. A single blast of dragonfire will char your bones."

"Certainly, you can choose to offend a powerful Sorceress and a Witcher with a sharp sword before we embark. This world sees no shortage of fools, and you seem eager to join their ranks. My sole purpose here is to ensure Yennefer's safety. Your clandestine activities hold no interest for me."

"However, should you attempt to harm this lady, test the mettle of my blade and see if your necks can withstand its bite."

Had Geralt been alone, he wouldn't have bothered with such a blunt warning, nor would he have participated in this hunting operation at all. But this was about Yennefer. He wouldn't allow anyone to harm her, no matter the cost.

Notorious for their ruthlessness across Redania, the three Crinfrid Reavers brothers were no strangers to trouble. Driven by avarice, they dabbled in the shadows, engaging in activities akin to banditry and worse.

Boholt exchanged a quick glance with his siblings. The unspoken message received, Gar, the second-born, discreetly retrieved a crossbow from their luggage and loaded it with a bolt, while the youngest, Kennet the Ripper, already had a honed bone-eviscerating knife drawn, concealed behind Geralt.

Geralt frowned, surprised by their brazenness and audacity to attempt such a move here. They were mere feet from the king's tent. Any misstep could brand them as assassins, inciting the wrath of the dozens of heavily armed soldiers surrounding them.

Despite facing the notorious brothers, Geralt remained fearless. He grounded the scabbard of his steel sword and, with a slow, deliberate motion, used his right hand to draw the hilt, revealing the gleaming blade within.

One of the North's most formidable swordsmen, Geralt held immense confidence in his swordsmanship.

Geralt narrowed his amber cat eyes at the three brothers circling him with predatory intent. While facing multiple attackers was disadvantageous, his blade needed only a single opening to claim a life.

Yarpen and his dwarf companions retreated a few paces, silently conveying their neutrality. These bearded onlookers seemed rather pleased by the sudden skirmish. Whether it was the Witcher or the Predators, any casualties would mean one less competitor in the dragon hunt, increasing their own potential gains.

Just as the tension between Geralt and the three brothers threatened to erupt, a booming voice echoed through the air.

"A despicable siege! To outnumber and ambush a lone warrior violates all principles of chivalry! Witness the gods and the holy scriptures of knights! If you vile predators intend to bully that cursed mutant, I shall not stand idle!"

The speaker, clad in gleaming silver full-plate armor, held a hefty two-handed sword. Though the helmet concealed his face, everyone present recognized him as Eyck of Denesle, a valiant knight renowned for his unwavering idealism, bordering on fanaticism in his pursuit of justice.

Seeing his intervention, Yarpen spat on the ground in disgust, knowing the fight was over. Even if the Predator brothers harbored a sliver of hope against the Witcher, the addition of this ironclad knight guaranteed their demise.

True to Yarpen's prediction, Boholt, the leader of the predators, exchanged a knowing glance with his brothers upon seeing Eyck. He then let out a booming laugh and declared, "Sir Eyck, what misunderstandings! We could never stoop to such brutish acts! We, too, are righteous warriors, inspired by the king's call to slay the evil dragon!"

"The Witcher's tone was certainly abrasive," Boholt conceded, "but perhaps dialogue could suffice instead of aggression."

Knight Eyck, however, lacked the awareness to save face for others, his idealism bordering on zealotry. "Spare us your deceitful words!" he boomed. "Justice is a concept far removed from your kind!"

"It's this very world, rife with self-serving liars like yourselves, that has become so corrupted!" Eyck continued, his voice laced with righteous fury. "While I may view Witchers as aberrations, creatures twisted against the divine will, they at least hold some semblance of morality, some capacity to discern right from wrong."

He turned his scathing gaze upon the brothers. "You, however, are nothing but mercenary scum. Loyalty, honor, mercy—these noble concepts are mere garbage to you, filthy and worthless. The sight of you twists my stomach. Be gone from my sight! Were it not for the king's decree, I wouldn't share the same ground as you foul creatures!"

Even the Predators, notorious for their lack of shame, bristled under Eyck's scathing tirade. But arguing with him was futile. He was like a boulder in a cesspool—immovable, reeking, and utterly impervious to reason.

Their current mission, they reminded themselves, wasn't about lining their pockets. It was supposedly about a twisted sense of justice, about protecting the nearby townsfolk from the dragon's wrath. The sheer absurdity of it all rankled.

With muttered curses under their breath, the brothers gathered their weapons and slunk away from the temporary stable, seeking solace in the shadows. The official dragon hunt wouldn't commence until King Niedamir gave the order the following morning.

Meanwhile, the reconnaissance team from Holobur had already embarked on their mission. These seasoned guides, hired by the king, would lead the dragon-hunting party to the beast's lair.

In the open space outside the green dragon's lair, Wayne sat by a fire, roasting a wild boar leg. He was sprinkling various seasonings and spices, carefully rotating the meat. The aroma of the roasting boar began to fill the air. To ensure he had decent food while traveling, Wayne had prepared an ample supply of cooking materials, especially seasonings.

As Wayne savored the rich aroma of the roast, a small gray creature resembling a puppy emerged from the nest. Its curious eyes fixed on the roasted boar leg in Wayne's hand. After a brief moment of hesitation, its hunger overcame its fear. The tiny dragon, with delicate scales, waddled over to Wayne, tilting its head and making a whimpering sound as it eyed the dripping roast.

Dragons, even at a young age, exhibited impressive vitality. Less than ten hours after hatching, this little dragon was already darting around. Wayne, noticing the dragon's keen interest in the barbecue, cut a small piece from the roast, held it out, and let the dragon taste it. The little dragon, evidently inheriting a ravenous appetite from its mother, devoured the piece in one gulp.

The roast was still quite hot, and the dragon let out a small howl of discomfort. It flapped its tiny wings and spun around a few times before returning to Wayne, nudging his thigh and clearly seeking more of the tasty treat.

When Borch emerged from the cave, he saw Wayne feeding his daughter like a pet, scratching her chin and offering pieces of the roast. The little dragon responded with joyful cries, clearly delighted by the meat.

This was not unusual. While many young dragons consumed raw or carrion meat, those who could breathe dragon fire typically preferred their meat cooked. Borch, having been served by the Zerrikan tribe for decades, had grown accustomed to cooked food and rarely ate raw meat.

Seeing Borch approach, the little dragon eagerly leapt from Wayne's arms and went to her father. Borch embraced his daughter with joy, gently stroking her head with a loving expression.

Wayne handed Borch a generous portion of grilled pork ribs and watched as Borch fed the little dragon. Feeling a sense of warmth at the scene, Wayne asked, "My friend, what are you contemplating?"

Borch looked thoughtful. "Now that Myrgtabrakke's injury is improving, we don't have to wait for the dragon hunting team to arrive before we leave."

"What are you planning to do?" Wayne inquired.

Borch frowned, considering his words. After a moment, he said, "I was thinking of leaving and having nothing more to do with these humans. But as a husband and father, if I just abandon the situation, how will I explain my actions to my wife and children in the future?"

"Tell them their father and husband is a coward?" Wayne suggested.

Borch nodded, showing a determined resolve. "I don't want to cause the death of innocent people or ignite disputes between different kingdoms. If possible, I'd like you to bring those who wish to slay the dragon and harm my family here. I can challenge them to a fair duel, prove my strength and courage."

Upon hearing Borch's request, Wayne received a system prompt in his mind:

Ding! [Save the Green Dragon, Myrgtabrakke] completed. Triggered chain task: [Husband's Dignity], expert level.

Accept / Decline

The prompt reminded Wayne that completing all quest chains would improve the quality of the rewards, which would be issued after the quest's completion. After a brief consideration, Wayne decided to accept the task. Maintaining his friendship with Borch and improving the quest rewards were both important. Although Wayne was curious about the master-level treasure chest's potential treasures, he was patient and could wait.

Reflecting on the plot, Wayne nodded to Borch. "No problem, my friend. Stay here with your family. I'll gather information from the dragon hunting team. If I find anything or make progress, I'll send you a signal, and we can plan our next steps."

Borch smiled sincerely and expressed his gratitude. "This journey north has been incredibly rewarding. I gained not only a family but also a true friend. Wayne, take care. If you find yourself in danger, call me anytime, and I'll be there."

Wayne smiled confidently. "Don't worry, my friend. I'm not reckless, and don't underestimate a Witcher. A well-prepared Witcher isn't afraid of any challenge."

Unable to bear the unpleasant smell in the cave, Wayne rested by the campfire for a while and set off after dawn the next day to join the dragon hunting team and meet Geralt.

On the dragon hunting team's side, despite a peaceful night, beneath the calm surface, countless intrigues and alliances were at play. Although Geralt was Yennefer's guard, the sorceress was keen on seeing her ex-boyfriend defeated due to lingering anger.

That night, Yennefer and Geralt shared the same tent. Yennefer wore provocative clothing and, before bed, cast a transformation spell on Geralt, turning him into a watchdog covered in white fur. She placed a barrier around his bed, confining him to watch the night from a distance. It wasn't until morning that Yennefer reversed the spell after bathing in the tent.

Geralt felt a rush of energy as the spell dissipated.

Regarding the tensions between the couples, the most worrying aspect was not the Yarpen dwarf team, who had apparently reached a secret agreement with the sorceress, but rather the three brothers known for their ruthlessness.

The three brothers, infamous in Redania for their fierce hunting skills and lavish lifestyles, had faced a decline in their job opportunities due to the dwindling population of large reptiles. Their habits of indulgence had led to significant debts. They valued their dragon hunting job immensely and were eager to monopolize the dragon's treasure. However, they were not naive. They recognized the strong competition within the team, including King Niedamir's guard, the strong dwarf team, and the powerful sorceress and Witcher. These formidable competitors would not make success easy.

Even the thought of claiming the dragon's treasure was premature; they had merely located it. The Yarpen dwarf team, likely to reach an agreement with them, had already held a secret negotiation meeting.

The next morning, as Geralt emerged from his tent, he noticed a newcomer joining the dragon hunting team. This individual wore a peculiar fuchsia hat adorned with silver buckles and a long egret feather that drooped over his eyes. Geralt instantly recognized the hat and the feather; they were famous in Buina and Eruga, present in all the mansions, castles, inns, taverns, and especially brothels.

"Jaskier, what are you doing here?" Geralt inquired.

"Geralt!" A pair of cheerful blue eyes peered out from beneath the hat. "What a surprise! Is it really you? Are you here to slay dragons, too?"

Geralt didn't immediately respond to the questions but instead frowned at his friend and asked, "A month and a half ago, when we parted in Vizima City, didn't you mention you were going to study at Oxenfurt College? It's hundreds of miles away from here. Why have you come?"

Before the bard could explain, he caught sight of Yennefer emerging from her tent. Realizing something immediately, he first bowed to the beautiful sorceress and offered a gentleman's salute. Then, he glanced back at Geralt and winked, insinuating, "Ah, I see why you're here."

"Have you two reconciled? Did you spend the night together? Has Yennefer forgiven you?" Jaskier brazenly posed these three questions.

Upon hearing this, Yennefer shot Jaskier a steely glance, raising her finger slightly. The poet suddenly choked and began coughing violently, covering his throat in distress.

The sorceress glared at Geralt before departing with graceful steps, heading for the king's tent. Only after her figure disappeared did Jaskier's complexion begin to improve. He walked to Geralt's side with lingering fear, patting his shoulder sympathetically.

"Yennefer still has that fiery temper. Dealing with sorceresses is not for the faint of heart. Only you Witchers seem capable of handling their love, much like Wayne."

"Speaking of Wayne, is he here too? Did he find himself in a sorceress' tent as well?"

Geralt looked at the unrepentant and chattering Jaskier with a pained expression. Recalling his own awkwardness the previous night, he knew he couldn't let Jaskier know about it, or he'd be ridiculed for years to come. So, he quickly changed the subject.

"You haven't explained why you're not at the Academy but here in Holobur."

Jaskier raised his head proudly, adjusting his mustache. "Do you not recognize who I am? I am the most talented bard and poet of this century. I completed all the studies for the first half of the year in less than a month, obtained the necessary credits, and resumed my creative journey."

"A week ago, I heard about the dragon hunt and rushed to Holobur. I was supposed to accompany the king and document the entire event, weaving it into an epic poem for future generations to sing."

"However, the day before departure, a beautiful widow sought my help with her troubles. When I awoke in her bed the next day, the sun was already setting."

"The widow was so captivating that I missed my meeting with the king. By the time I attempted to rush over myself, the young king had already departed, and the guards wouldn't let me through without proper authorization."

Jaskier shook his head in a feigned display of ignorance. "What a bumbling fool I was, nearly causing the greatest poet of this century to miss such a momentous event. Am I destined to be the troublesome character in every tale?"

Listening to Jaskier's incessant chatter, Geralt felt somewhat helpless, but he couldn't deny the comfort of having a friend like him, who was always enthusiastic and lively.

"Do you know the whole story?" Geralt inquired. "About the green dragon and why a king was involved?"

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, laughing confidently. "Do you even need to ask? I am a renowned poet and bard. Whenever a major event occurs in the Northern Kingdoms, I make it my business to be there."

"Every significant event becomes my inspiration, and through my songs, my fame spreads far and wide," he boasted.

Geralt, slightly overwhelmed by Jaskier's grandiosity, patted his poet friend on the shoulder. "Get to the point, please. Enough of the nonsense."

Seeing Geralt's impatience, Jaskier abandoned the idea of playing his lute and got straight to the point.

"The situation is simple. About a week ago, a dragon descended near the city of Holobur. Its body was massive, equivalent to three horses. It swooped down upon a shepherd's flock, causing panic among the herd. It devoured four sheep, killed several more, and then flew away with their carcasses."

Geralt nodded. "And then?"

Jaskier continued. "Of course, that's not all."

"The next morning it returned, this time venturing closer to the city. It swooped down upon the washerwomen on the banks of the Bula. My friends, they fled in terror! I have never witnessed such a comical scene in all my life. The dragon circled twice over the city of Holobur, then proceeded to nearby pastures to attack the sheep."

"What panic and confusion it caused! You see, just the day before, no one believed the words of the shepherds... The mayor began mobilizing the militia and guilds in the city, but before he could organize the people, they took matters into their own hands."

Geralt furrowed his brow. He found it hard to believe that ordinary people could contend with a dragon soaring through the sky.

"How was it resolved?" he inquired.

"With a rather commonplace method," Jaskier explained. "A shoemaker named Kozoyed devised a plan. They slaughtered a sheep and stuffed its stomach with sunflowers, belladonna, hemlock, sulfur, and resin from the shoemaker's workshop. As an extra precaution, the local apothecary added two quarts of boiled potion."

"They then tethered the sheep to a stake and placed it among the flock. Nobody truly believed the dragon would choose this foul-smelling, deceased sheep out of a thousand others, but as it turned out, that's precisely what it did. While the rest of the flock remained unharmed, the dragon devoured the bait along with the stake."

Jaskier's information was vivid and detailed, likely based on firsthand observation.

"It didn't take long—about as long as it takes a skilled man to undo a woman's corset—before the dragon roared, emitting smoke from its mouth and rear. Then it collapsed, attempting to fly but stumbling and falling."

"Two individuals volunteered to check if it was still alive. One was a local gravedigger, and the other, a village simpleton."

"We later erected a small tomb for them, though it turned out quite beautiful," Jaskier added.

Geralt understood that the green dragon must still be alive; otherwise, there would be no need for the current dragon-hunting team.

"So, the green dragon is playing dead?" Geralt questioned.

"Exactly," Jaskier confirmed with a grin. "It's alive but too weak to devour gravediggers and fools. It merely drank their blood and regurgitated... barely. But it's causing quite a concern. With every step it takes, it stumbles and falls, sometimes only able to crawl forward on its hind legs. The brave souls among us follow from a distance, keeping it in sight. But you won't believe the next bit of progress."

Jaskier continued, "The dragon leaped into a gorge in the Great Kestrel Mountains, not far from the source of the Bula River. It's been hiding in a cave there."

"A dragon's nest?" Geralt concluded, understanding why so many had gathered. The treasure within a dragon's lair was a legendary prize coveted by adventurers, peasants, nobles, and even kings.

"I see why the bridge is guarded. Someone aims to monopolize the treasure, and that someone is Niedamir of Caingorn," Geralt surmised.

"Exactly," Jaskier affirmed. "The entire Holobur is up in arms about it. They believe the dragon's treasure rightfully belongs to them, but they dare not openly oppose Niedamir. The king is a young fool, barely sprouting hair on his chin, yet he knows how to command respect. Niedamir desires the dragon above all else, hence his swift actions."

Upon hearing this, Geralt frowned, glancing back at the magnificent king's tent with a sense of puzzlement.

"I doubt a king would go to such lengths to slay a dragon for a mere illusion of treasure. Is there another reason?" Geralt questioned.

Jaskier smirked knowingly. As a renowned poet, he possessed insights beyond the ordinary folk.

"I believe his interest lies more with the dragons than the treasures. Consider this: Niedamir has long coveted the Principality of Maruel. Following the mysterious demise of the prince, only one marriageable princess remains. However, the nobles of Maruel are skeptical of Niedamir and other suitors."

"The reason being, they know the new ruler will likely diminish their influence. Moreover, the young princess lacks the temperament to handle such a situation. Hence, the court ministers unearthed an ancient prophecy, claiming that only the one who conquers the dragon shall claim the crown and the princess's hand."

"Niedamir initially disregarded such prophecies, opting to pursue Maruel through force. However, upon hearing of a dragon plaguing Holobur, he saw a golden opportunity. Returning to Maruel with the dragon's head would elevate him to divine status in the eyes of the people, quelling the discontent among the powerful."

"Therefore, he's fervently seeking the dragon, as if a cat hunting a mouse. Moreover, given the dragon's weakened state, Niedamir views it as a stroke of luck, a sign of destiny in his favor. Truly diabolical."

Geralt listened to Jaskier's explanation, frowning with a resigned sigh. Once again, politics entangled itself in the affairs, this time revolving around the struggle for the throne.

This cycle of noble wars and ensuing chaos, leaving behind a trail of casualties and misery, had become all too familiar to Geralt.

He gestured to Jaskier. Yennefer was about to meet the king, and she no longer required his guard.

As they prepared to depart, the flap of the king's tent was lifted, revealing a tall, regal figure clad in warrior attire. Driven out by the guards, he voiced his protestations:

"The dragon is an endangered creature. Slaying it will only invite disaster upon us. Numerous precedents attest to this fact."

"As a king, you ought to grasp this truth, rather than disrupt the natural balance for personal gain."

Observing the luxurious figure being expelled, Geralt raised an eyebrow, turning to Jaskier for an explanation.

"Who's that fellow? A Druid, perhaps, speaking of the balance of nature?" Geralt inquired.

Jaskier shook his head mysteriously, offering a cryptic smile. "That's the mage, Master Dorregarey. Thanks to his assistance, I was able to bypass the need for a pass."

"Dorregarey?" Geralt had never heard the name before.

Jaskier grinned and said, "Yes, Master Dorregarey. He's a fascinating individual."

"He advocates for the balance of all things, insisting that humans should not interfere with any creatures in nature. Even drowners and ghouls fall under his protection. An extreme conservationist, he would make quite the villain in my poems—so intriguing, haha."

Geralt was momentarily speechless. The world was indeed vast, filled with all sorts of individuals. Being a Witcher was likely one of the least favored professions for this sorcerer. He glanced at the sorcerer who was still chattering outside the king's tent and hurriedly dragged Jaskier into Yennefer's tent to avoid getting entangled in more of this person's antics.

Geralt couldn't help but reflect on the current status of mages and sorcerers. Even when facing kings and nobles, they showed no fear. With the most powerful sorcerer brotherhood supporting them on the northern continent, the lords had no choice but to grant them some respect. It was impossible to judge them as one would ordinary people.

They had been drinking in the tent when Yennefer returned, promptly ushering the two drunken men out. The journey was about to commence, and the sorceress needed to prepare her belongings. As a lady, she had quite a bit of luggage. Geralt didn't concern himself with this; he and Jaskier continued drinking on a haystack in the stable, finding solace away from hostile or contemptuous gazes.

Although King Niedamir ruled over a small realm, he was not petty. After preparing to set off, he spent over an hour organizing the camp supplies and filling twelve carriages. The group comprised members of the dragon-hunting team, soldiers, and members of the Holobur scouting team who were exploring the road ahead—around 150 people in total.

They formed a formidable convoy and ventured into the Great Keszhuo Mountains with the aid of a local guide. Climbing from the foot of the mountain to the mountainside took approximately six or seven hours. As the sun set, they found an open area to camp, about a third of the way to their destination: the green dragon's lair.

In the early hours of the next day, a figure dressed in black, nearly invisible in the darkness, stealthily entered Yennefer's tent. It was Wayne. He had originally intended to find Geralt but could not locate him. Instead, he found a large white dog resting on the wooden pillar in the center of the tent, seemingly taking a nap.

The dog appeared quite alert, reacting swiftly as Wayne opened the tent flap. It stood up, fixed its gaze on Wayne at the entrance, and seemed ready to pounce at any moment. To prevent the dog from raising the alarm, Wayne acted quickly, casting an Axii Sign to induce a state of unconsciousness in the dog.

As Wayne considered whether to further sedate the dog, it suddenly snapped out of its stupor, speaking in Geralt's voice.

"Hold on, Wayne, it's me," Geralt said.

Wayne was taken aback. He stared at the large white dog on the ground in shock, then glanced at the sorceress sleeping peacefully nearby. What sort of trick was this?

Realizing the situation, Wayne remained silent for a few moments. Geralt, though a bit embarrassed, was aware that Wayne had come to him dressed like this for a reason. He must have something important to discuss, and he couldn't afford to expose himself any further.

"Let's step outside and talk. Don't wake Yennefer; she has a temper."

Wayne, still stunned by the talking dog, eventually nodded and let Geralt crawl out first. It was early morning, and the camp was mostly asleep, with only a few night guards still alert. Under the cover of darkness, Geralt and Wayne found a secluded spot several hundred meters away from the camp and began their discussion, exchanging all the information they had.

Wayne didn't hold back, telling Geralt everything about Borch, the green dragon, and the baby dragon, as well as Borch's request and his thoughts. He believed that Geralt, being the righteous and principled Witcher, would not object to his plans.

The large white dog sat on the ground, frowning like a human, and asked, "So, your goal now is to drive away the ordinary people, and ideally, King Niedamir and his soldiers as well. You want to leave only those who are determined to slay the dragon, allowing them to have a fair duel with Borch at the top of the mountain?"

Wayne nodded. In his view, the soldiers and citizens were victims coerced by those in power. Even if they succeeded in slaying the dragon, they would gain nothing and would likely be the first to fall in battle. These people were simply pawns; there was no need to fight them.

After a moment's thought, Geralt agreed, "Yes, I will cooperate with your plan. However, remember not to reveal your identity, and ensure that Borch does not cause unnecessary casualties. After completing the task, it's best if Borch and his family leave quickly. If news of the dragon spreads, it will attract more greedy hunters and mercenaries driven by wealth."

"Don't worry, I will," Wayne assured him.

Wayne bid farewell to Geralt and swiftly vanished into the darkness.

Geralt watched Wayne's departing figure with a helpless expression. He sighed and hurried back into Yennefer's tent on all fours.

Tonight was destined to be restless. He wanted to stay by Yennefer's side and protect her.

Half an hour later, the camp erupted into chaos. Guards on duty ran around shouting in panic:

"It's on fire! Come and put out the fire!"

"Our supplies are burning! The stables are ablaze, and many horses have been killed!"

"There must be traitors among us! We've been attacked. Someone is trying to prevent us from reaching the mountain."

When Geralt and Yennefer emerged from the tent, they saw the camp in disarray. Some people were trying to extinguish the fire, some were chasing after fleeing horses, and soldiers were hastily dressing and arming themselves, guarding outside Niedamir's tent, fearing an assassin might strike.

In the midst of this chaos, the young king dared not appear. Only the overweight and disheveled overseer, Gyllensteen, attempted to maintain order.

Unfortunately, they were halfway up the mountain, and the nearby water source was severely limited. There wasn't enough water to fight the fire, and it was night. In the dense mountains and ancient forests, no one dared venture out, as they risked becoming prey for wild beasts and monsters.

By dawn, after a frantic effort to put out the fire, more than half of the camp had been destroyed. The fire had particularly affected the food supplies, horses, and carriages. Most of the journey's materials had been lost in the flames.

It was a significant blow to the dragon-hunting team, who had been so full of optimism the previous day.

After the chaos subsided, the atmosphere in the camp grew tense and suspicious. Many were on edge, eyeing each other warily as they tried to identify the culprits behind the disaster.

Some suspected the scouting team, believing that the city militias and guilds were mobilizing to seize the dragon's treasure by hindering King Niedamir's progress. Others pointed fingers at Mage Dorregarey, citing his radical beliefs in the balance of nature. His opposition to hunting the green dragon and the rapid spread of the fire suggested possible magical involvement.

There were also suspicions directed at the dwarf squad, the three brothers, or even Yennefer. Their considerable power could eliminate obstacles without needing many supplies, potentially allowing them to continue dragon hunting unimpeded.

Among the frustrated was King Niedamir, who was fuming in his opulent tent. He glared furiously at Gyllensteen, whose forehead dripped with sweat as he knelt before the monarch.

"You incompetent fool! Your negligence has ruined our entire operation," the young king seethed. "Without food or horses, how do you expect my soldiers to continue the dragon hunt?"

Gyllensteen wiped the sweat from his brow and looked nervously at the king before suggesting, "Your Majesty, why don't we quickly send someone to Holobur City to buy supplies? It would only take a day or two for a round trip."

Niedamir's dissatisfaction was palpable as he retorted angrily, "It's a free city, not my territory. I can't command them. The guild and militia there are also eyeing the dragon's treasure. Do you think they'll sell us horses? And if we delay any longer, the dragon might have already fled."

Gyllensteen swallowed nervously and proposed again, "Then why don't we discard the extra supplies, pack lightly, and have the soldiers march up the mountain? We could resolve this quickly, Your Majesty."

Niedamir's anger flared as he kicked the fat steward, shouting, "Do you want me to climb the mountain like a common farmer? Without those supplies, if something goes wrong on the mountain and we're stranded, it will take not four days but five. My hungry soldiers will abandon me, and the nobles will be killed. I'll find another puppet to take my place. Withdraw all our forces. I've said it before—Maruel's throne is mine. We don't need to hunt that damned dragon."

"I have cavalry and infantry in Caingorn, enough to challenge their forces. They'll eventually recognize my rightful claim. As for their princess, I won't grow old with her. I'll use her to bear my child and then dispose of her in the traditional courtly manner. I've said enough, Gyllensteen. It's time to act on my orders."

"Let our people withdraw before we enter the Great Keszhuo Mountains. I shouldn't have listened to your suggestion to join this damn dragon hunt."

"But Your Majesty, the people of Maruel believe in that prophecy..."

Gyllensteen was cut off by the young king's harsh command.

"Silence! I don't need the prophecy or the people's support. As long as I defeat their army, the throne is mine. Follow my orders, retreat now, and hurry up, or I'll have the soldiers whip you."

Despite the young king's lack of strategic brilliance, his actions were decisive. Following his retreat order, more than half of the once-mighty dragon-hunting team dispersed almost immediately. Only the eight scouts led by Kozojed, the three brothers, Yarpen the dwarf and his bearded companions, the knight Eyck, Geralt, Yennefer, Jaskier, and Master Dorregarey remained, totaling just over twenty people. These individuals were driven by wealth, fame, belief, or personal motives, and none intended to withdraw.

Without the encumbrance of the large troops, their speed increased significantly. In less than half a day, they traversed most of the mountain road and arrived at a dilapidated stone bridge over the upper reaches of the Bula River.

The three brothers, leading the group, hesitated upon seeing the crumbling bridge. Boholt, the eldest, turned to the dwarf Yarpen and asked, "Hey! Dwarf friend, does this bridge look sturdy enough to support the weight of horses and men?"

Yarpen did not answer immediately but instead looked to Kozojed, the oldest member of the scouting team. Kozojed, a shoemaker in his forties who had lived in the area the longest, was likely the most knowledgeable about the mountain terrain.

After a moment's thought, Kozojed said, "This stone bridge was built by trolls long ago. They intended to collect tolls here but abandoned it due to the sparse traffic. It should be decades old, but trolls are known for their sturdy craftsmanship."

Seeing the uncertain expressions of the group, Kozojed continued, "Of course, we could take another route along the mountainside, but that would add about two days to our journey."

None of the scouts or young men wanted to test the bridge's safety firsthand, preferring not to risk their lives for others' assurances.

However, Knight Eyck, who valued faith above all else, declared, "The gods will protect me, and justice will prevail!"

Without hesitation, Eyck spurred his warhorse and charged across the stone bridge at breakneck speed. The hooves of his heavily armored mount pounded the ancient stones, sending gravel tumbling into the depths below.

After crossing the bridge, Eyck did not slow down. He pressed on towards the dragon's lair at a deliberate pace, clearly intent on avoiding the others. To him, they were nothing more than greedy robbers, malevolent sorceresses, or mutated Witchers.

Using this opportunity, Eyck distanced himself from the group, seeking to uphold his own sense of justice.

The three brothers, initially frightened, breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Eyck's safe passage. Unbeknownst to them, Wayne had sabotaged the bridge the previous day, making it impassable for others.

Wayne's goal was twofold: to dissuade Niedamir from continuing the dragon hunt and to isolate those aiming for the mountain's summit. However, Wayne did not anticipate that Knight Eyck would successfully cross the bridge, whether due to luck or divine favor.

Shortly after Eyck's crossing, accompanied by ominous creaks and cracks, the ancient stone bridge collapsed, falling into the Bula River below. This dramatic event was witnessed by Wayne and Borch, who were concealed near the mountain's peak.

Turning to Borch, Wayne smiled and remarked, "It's your turn to make a move, my friend. Knight Eyck is a paragon of chivalry and faith, despite his eccentricities. He will honorably face you in combat, but if possible, spare his life. Good souls are becoming increasingly rare in this world."

Borch chuckled, nodding in agreement. "You handled the situation well. Those who continue to pursue dragon hunting now deserve the consequences. While Eyck may be revered among your northern brethren, he might be seen differently by demihuman races or other less conventional creatures."

Knight Eyck might be noble in some eyes, but to others, he is nothing more than a ruthless enforcer. In his narrow worldview, only a select few races are deemed worthy of survival, while the rest are considered expendable.

As Geralt and the others grappled with their predicament at the broken bridge, Knight Eyck, leading the way, had already forged ahead across the hillside and arrived at a small, flower-strewn meadow.

Contemplating his next move—whether to traverse the open expanse and pursue an alternate path to the cave atop the mountain—Knight Eyck was suddenly interrupted by a resonant sound akin to a brass horn.

"Knight Eyck of Denesle, I am Villentretenmerth," boomed a voice, as a colossal golden creature descended from the heavens and alighted gracefully amid the meadow, mere meters away from the knight. Extending its wings and adopting a dignified stance, the creature continued to speak.

"I implore you to proceed no further," it declared. "At the end of this path lies the cave where my beloved resides. As her guardian, it is my solemn duty to protect her."

"Anyone who ventures forth shall be deemed my adversary. In defense of my kin, I will engage them in honorable combat, using only traditional weaponry—no magic. We shall duel until one yields."

"Knight Eyck, I beseech you to reconsider your course of action. Will you forsake this endeavor?"

Knight Eyck, taken aback by the telepathic communication and the unprecedented sight before him, found himself momentarily bewildered. In his two decades of monster-hunting, he had never encountered a dragon adorned in resplendent golden scales, nor had he encountered a creature of such refined eloquence.

Yet, his momentary bewilderment swiftly gave way to resolute conviction. Pushing back his visor to reveal his determined countenance, the towering knight in heavy plate armor bellowed to the golden dragon:

"Evil dragon, before you stands Eyck of Denesle. I am the instrument of the gods' will. My mission is to slay the dragon and safeguard the innocents here."

"Since you have chosen to defend your mate, I shall not yield. We shall engage in a noble duel."

The golden dragon, emitting a sigh that sounded strangely human, swiftly assumed an offensive stance, its golden-scaled form poised for combat. With a subtle horn-like sound resonating through the air once more, it addressed Eyck:

"Respected Knight Eyck, I commend your valor. All preparations have been made. Let this illustrious duel commence."

On the battlefield, Eyck wasted no time. He fervently invoked the gods he revered, entreating their divine blessings, while simultaneously raising his spear in a gesture of respect toward the golden dragon.

This was to be a duel of honor—a testament to chivalry and bravery, regardless of its outcome. Wayne, observing from his concealed vantage point on another hill, couldn't help but marvel. This was a knight of unwavering faith, embodying the true essence of knighthood, far surpassing those who lacked honor.

With his prayers concluded, Eyck lowered his visor, fixing his gaze upon the massive golden dragon through the narrow slit. Adjusting his breathing, he urged his steed onward, gripping the reins tightly as he leaned forward, spear pointed ahead, and charged towards the formidable beast with unbridled determination.

The horse surged forward with remarkable speed, its heavy form clad in armor resembling a metallic juggernaut in motion. With a single rider and horse, Eyck bore down upon the golden dragon with unstoppable momentum.

Yet, to Eyck's astonishment, the golden dragon did not retreat or attempt to evade his formidable assault. Instead, it met his charge head-on, hurtling towards him with equal fervor.

Observing the situation unfold, Eyck swiftly altered his course at the final moment, raising his lance high above the horse's head as he soared past the dragon while standing on the stirrups. With all his strength, he thrust the spear toward the giant beast's head, aiming to deliver a fatal blow and end the terrifying monster with a single strike.

However, the massive golden dragon displayed an unexpected burst of agility, swiftly veering sideways to evade the stab with impeccable precision. With graceful movements akin to a whip, its colossal form arched back, slicing open the belly of Eyck's mount with a devastating swipe. The horse let out a pained whinny as it stumbled and fell, unable to withstand the force of the attack.

Undeterred, Eyck maintained his grip on the spear even as he was dismounted. With a deft motion, the dragon's claw plucked him from the saddle, launching him into the air. The harsh sound of his armored body colliding with the ground echoed across the battlefield, even reaching Wayne's ears from several hundred meters away.

Such a high-altitude fall would be challenging for anyone to endure, let alone a knight encased in heavy plate armor. Eyck suffered severe injuries upon impact, with his legs twisted unnaturally beneath him, bones shattered and protruding through his flesh. Despite the excruciating pain, he refused to cry out or plead for mercy, instead staring blankly at the sky and muttering to himself incoherently.

With Eyck incapacitated, the golden dragon ruthlessly turned its attention to his fallen steed. Pinning the horse beneath its massive paws, the dragon tore away its armor with powerful jaws, rending flesh and bone with sharp fangs until the horse's agonized cries ceased, swallowed whole by the voracious creature.

Upon reaching the hilltop, Yennefer, Geralt, and Jaskier, who had followed her, were met with the unexpected sight of Knight Eyck's valiant challenge against the golden dragon. Witnessing the formidable knight being tossed into the air like a mere plaything by the monstrous creature left them all in a state of solemnity and awe.

Unlike the legendary green dragon they had anticipated, this golden dragon exceeded all expectations. Not only was it several times larger, but its movements were far from the clumsy portrayal of dragons in myths; instead, it displayed a deadly elegance akin to a seasoned warrior.

As they grappled with the shock of the scene before them, Dorregarey, using his magical prowess, joined them on the other side of the stone bridge. Upon witnessing the golden dragon devouring Eyck's warhorse, the mage's reaction was unexpected. Disregarding Eyck's fate, Dorregarey's gaze was fixated on the magnificent creature below, marveling at its beauty and uniqueness.

"It's so beautiful. This is the only golden dragon in the world. It's a living golden dragon. Only nature can create such a beautiful and elegant creature."

With unwavering confidence, Dorregarey turned to Yennefer, Geralt, and Jaskier, issuing a firm command. He declared his intent to protect the golden dragon, adamant that such a rare and majestic creature should not fall victim to their ambitions.

"Listen carefully, in front of us stands a golden dragon, perhaps the only one left due to your cruelty and folly. The legend should not be killed. I will not allow you to touch this dragon. Understood? Give up your intentions and prepare to leave."

However, Yennefer, driven by her singular obsession with restoring her fertility, remained indifferent to Dorregarey's proclamation. Her focus remained solely on her original target—the green dragon. The appearance of the golden dragon was inconsequential to her; dead dragons were all the same in her eyes.

At this moment, a voice like a bronze horn directly passed into the minds of the four people on the hillside.

"Ladies and Gentlemen across the way, Knight Eyck is a worthy opponent. If any of you can aid him, please come down and help him. Don't worry, I'm a dragon who values honor, and I won't attack you all of a sudden."

Hearing this voice, everyone on the hillside, including Yennefer, looked at the golden dragon below involuntarily. Borch nodded gracefully to them, then waved his wings, flying directly away from the place where the battle took place, and retreated to a small hill a few hundred meters away.

"You'd better hurry up; dawdle for a while, and the knight is probably going to meet his gods."

As everyone was still reeling from the shock of the golden dragon appearing in front of them, Wayne suddenly emerged from the nearby woods. There was a faint smile on his face, but his amber vertical pupils, the sharp sword at his side, and the pointed ears on both sides of his head immediately drew everyone's attention.

Another Witcher, and a half-elven one at that.

"Wayne! Haha, I knew you were coming too," Jaskier exclaimed, quickly recovering from his state of shock. He greeted Wayne cheerfully and began crafting the prototype of a poem for the heroic Eyck knight and the powerful, elegant golden dragon in his mind. With a few modifications, it could become a widely circulated poem. Of course, the protagonist of this song would not be the heroic knight Eyck, but the poet himself, who witnessed the events unfold.

Like the poems he composed during his adventures with Geralt, although the mighty White Wolf Geralt was an excellent swordsman capable of defeating many monsters, it was often the witty, brave, and handsome poet Jaskier who turned the tide.

Wayne greeted several people one by one, but the haughty sorceress and magician, Dorregarey, didn't seem keen on conversing with him. She simply hummed lightly, which Wayne took as a response.

Seeing that none of them were willing to risk saving Eyck, Wayne glanced at Geralt and then gave the White Wolf a sympathetic look. Suddenly, he stretched out his hand and swung it violently. A light blue chain flew out of his cuff, directly binding the sorceress Yennefer, who was not paying him any attention, nearby.

Wayne flicked, pulled, and braced, using the strong dimeritium chain to bind Yennefer, securing her hands and feet. This chain had been smelted and forged from dimeritium he obtained from the Wild Dog Gang. Once bound by this chain, sorceresses, druids, and other spellcasters would lose their ability to cast spells. It served as a sharp weapon against magic users.

Initially intending to retaliate with magic, Yennefer quickly realized her predicament. Stripped of her spellcasting abilities, she was rendered helpless like an ordinary woman, unable to break free from the chain's control. Desperate, she turned her head with all her strength and called out to Geralt, "Geralt, you bastard, what are you doing here? Come and save me."

Geralt watched the scene unfold, unable to tear his gaze away from Yennefer's plight. Instinctively, he reached for the hilt of his sword with his right hand but stopped himself, puzzled by Wayne's actions and intentions.

Wayne reassured Geralt with a wink before hoisting the tightly bound sorceress onto his shoulders, positioning her with her back to Geralt to shield her from his view. Speaking loudly to Geralt, Wayne explained, "Sorry, Geralt. I promised Borch a favor to prevent Yennefer from casting her spells on him. But rest assured, I won't harm her. Once this matter is resolved, I'll return Yennefer to you unharmed."

"Of course, you're welcome to fight alongside me. However, let's be careful. Our swords have no eyes, and during the fight, there's a risk of inadvertently harming your sorceress."

Geralt's expression turned perplexed. While he trusted Wayne not to harm Yennefer, he hadn't expected his brother to resort to this method to restrain her.

Seeing Wayne's wink, Geralt reluctantly cooperated and spoke fiercely, "Wayne, remember your promise. If you harm Yennefer, don't blame me for disregarding our brotherhood."

Jaskier, perceptive as ever, likely inferred something from their exchange. Despite Yennefer's usual arrogance and temper, the poet felt a pang of sympathy for her. Playing his part, he shouted in apparent dismay, "Wayne, I never expected you to betray our trust like this. Geralt and I placed so much faith in you, only for you to betray our team. What did this golden dragon offer you in return?"

Wayne twitched the corners of his mouth at Jaskier's dramatic performance. Glancing at him briefly, he turned his attention to Dorregarey, maintaining a vigilant expression. He responded firmly, "The dragon didn't offer me any favors, nor did I seek any. I didn't act out of obligation. I simply couldn't bear to see such a wise creature, the golden dragon, fall prey to despicable and greedy hunters. That's all."

Wayne's response impressed Dorregarey, who advocated for balance in all things. First impressions were crucial, and Wayne's stance resonated with the mage's beliefs.

To avoid further scrutiny, Wayne secured Yennefer's struggling form with his left hand, ensuring she didn't fall from his shoulders. He continued, "There's no use dwelling on it. Geralt, once this is over, you can find me at the green dragon's lair, where I'll return Yennefer to you."

With that, Wayne swiftly departed from the group, leaving Geralt to watch his beloved being carried away by his trusted brother. Geralt hesitated to say something, his palm outstretched but remained silent.

After Wayne's departure, the remaining trio exchanged glances. Ultimately, Geralt took the lead, nodding to Jaskier and sighing, "Don't worry, Wayne won't harm Yennefer. Let's go see that bastard Eyck. Despite his flaws, he's still a good man. If we can save him, let's do it."

Out of a desire to observe the golden dragon up close, Master Dorregarey also spoke with a hint of pride, "Now that Yennefer has been taken away, you two probably don't want to slay the dragon. I'll go with you to take a look. Although I don't know healing spells, I should be able to think of a way to help stabilize that mad knight's injury."

After a simple verbal agreement, the trio descended the hillside and approached Knight Eyck. The golden dragon watched them from a distance but made no move to stop them.

Dorregarey gazed at the golden dragon with eyes akin to admiring peerless treasures. Then, he casually inspected the comatose Eyck knight and remarked, "This man is in a bad state. His legs are severely deformed, and his bones are broken. Even if he is healed, he probably won't be able to walk again. The chest and head are protected by armor, so they're not a big problem, but his head suffered a serious impact, and no one knows what will happen to him."

He gestured for Geralt and Jaskier, who had assisted in removing Eyck's armor, to step aside. Dorregarey then chanted a spell, commanding the nearby chaotic magic with both hands, and slowly infused it into Eyck's body.

Eyck trembled all over, even in his comatose state, unable to suppress groans of pain. After about five minutes, Dorregarey wiped the sweat from his forehead, lowered his hands, and said, "I've cast a stabilizing spell on him. Although it can't heal his injuries, at least they won't worsen. Fortunately, he only suffered severe fractures and contusions, with no bleeding or internal damage. Otherwise, he would be dead by now."

With a glance at Geralt, Dorregarey smiled and continued, "If you don't mind and are not concerned about covering the treatment expenses, after this ordeal, find a skilled doctor for him and see if his mobility can be restored," Dorregarey suggested, his tone pragmatic. "However, as I mentioned, his legs are completely necrotic. Unless you locate the finest healer who can specially regenerate new leg bones for him and perform the surgery, there's no chance he'll be able to continue fighting."

"Of course, such a mage won't come cheap. Including materials and surgical fees, it will likely cost thousands of crowns."

Geralt exchanged glances with Jaskier upon hearing this. While Geralt might be willing to assist Eyck out of a sense of principle and justice, thousands of crowns were a considerable sum, even for a Witcher. It was regrettable that Eyck was merely a wandering knight, not a true feudal lord. Even if he were to sell all his possessions, he likely wouldn't amass such a fortune.

Here's the revised chapter based on your requirements:

Geralt and Jaskier may still be grappling with the decision of whether to save Knight Eyck, while Wayne carried Yennefer, who continued to scream, all the way back to the green dragon's lair. He casually placed the female sorceress next to the crackling fire and then untied the dimeritium chains constricting her body. He opted for a more comfortable binding method, ensuring she wasn't overly constrained and in pain.

It wasn't until he securely locked the sorceress' restraints in place that he raised his head and met Yennefer's gaze, now calmed down.

Perhaps realizing the futility of escape and understanding that the half-elven youth before her wouldn't truly harm her, Yennefer stared fiercely into Wayne's eyes, her expression cold and determined, as she spoke:

"Wayne, that's your name, isn't it? I've heard Geralt speak of you—the youngest of the Wolf Witchers, a half-elf."

"But you've picked the wrong person to mess with. You've landed yourself in deep trouble. Sorceresses hold grudges, and I'm the most vindictive one here."

"If you release me now, I may still pretend this never happened. But if you persist in obstructing me, I will ensure you regret it in the future."

Yennefer's voice dripped with fury and menace, her threat palpable.

However, Wayne seemed unperturbed. He retrieved a clean towel from a nearby shelf and offered it to the sorceress, gesturing for her to wipe away the dust and grime from her face, remnants of her fall.

After Yennefer took the towel, Wayne spoke softly, interrupting her thoughts:

"Yennefer, I understand that your quest to hunt dragons is driven by your desire to restore fertility and conceive a child. It's likely been a cherished aspiration of yours for many years," Wayne began, his tone gentle yet probing.

"But consider this—even without my interference, do you truly believe you can succeed in this endeavor?" he continued, offering her a piece of warm, roasted meat skewered on a wooden stick.

The enticing aroma tempted Yennefer, and a flicker of surprise danced in her eyes. Yet, she remained defiant, refusing to accept the offering as she lifted her chin and retorted, "I don't know where you've gathered such information. Even Geralt is unaware of my true purpose for dragon slaying."

"However, the potency of magic is beyond the comprehension of Witchers like yourself, who rely solely on Signs," she asserted confidently. "Given the opportunity and sufficient time to prepare my spells, even that golden dragon would be no match for me."

"Witchcraft is the most formidable force in this world," she declared. "Dragons are nothing more than powerful beasts capable of flight."

Wayne nodded in agreement with her assessment of magic. While sorcerers in the realm of Witchers were mortal and faced significant constraints due to dimeritium, their spells remained potent.

Just as in the future Battle of Sodden Hill, where a mere dozen sorceresses summoned devastating meteor showers and firestorms, decimating tens of thousands of Nilfgaardian troops with staggering losses.

The Wild Hunt's Navigators could teleport entire armies across realms and distances unimaginable to ordinary mortals.

Creatures like mirror masters, high-level vampires, gods, and demons possessed powers that transcended mortal understanding, operating on the brink of cosmic law.

The reason many sorceresses appear vulnerable is due to the lengthy preparation required to unleash powerful magic. They must chant spells and ready themselves for an extended period, leaving them susceptible to interruptions and silencing.

Observing Yennefer's stubbornness, Wayne decided to be blunt with her. "Yennefer, let me be straightforward with you—you cannot accomplish this task," he asserted.

"That golden dragon is no ordinary beast; it possesses formidable magical abilities and can even shapeshift. Furthermore, it's revered as a sacred creature by the Zerrikan tribe, who have warriors lying in wait nearby," he explained.

"If the golden dragon is endangered, the Zerrikan warriors will emerge from the forest and eliminate any perceived threats," Wayne continued. "With my assistance, the injured green dragon has nearly recovered and could have fled long ago. But she remains here because the golden dragon refuses to abandon her in despair, opting instead to confront those who seek to harm his mate."

Locking eyes with Yennefer, Wayne's tone turned serious. "Even if I were to step aside, you would either be defeated by the powerful golden dragon, seriously injured or worse," he warned. "Alternatively, you may face the wrath of the Zerrikan warriors for harming their revered creature."

"And to be frank, if it weren't for Geralt's connection to you, I wouldn't be treating you with such courtesy," he added pointedly. "Do you truly believe you can contend with a Witcher armed with ample dimeritium?"

Yennefer's lips twitched, but she remained silent, her gaze fixed on the ground in contemplation.

At that moment, perhaps influenced by the aroma of the barbecue from the plate, a small gray creature with short legs emerged from the dragon's nest, sniffing the air eagerly. Spotting the plate beside Wayne, the creature wagged its tail in excitement, scurrying over and rubbing its head against Wayne's thigh, hoping for a treat.

Wayne, noticing Yennefer's interest, smiled and scooped up the little dragon, named Saskia, cradling it in his arms. He broke the barbecue into small pieces and fed them to Saskia, all the while addressing Yennefer.

"This little one is Saskia, the offspring of the green dragon. She was born just yesterday," Wayne explained gently. "But here you are, seeking to end the lives of parents to another newborn."

"Isn't that too cruel, especially for Saskia?" he continued. "And have you considered, Yennefer, you're not alone in your desire to restore fertility to sorceresses. Many have tried, yet for thousands of years, none have succeeded."

"Destroying a life is simple, but creating one? Perhaps only a true god can achieve such a feat."

Listening to Wayne's words and observing the adorable creature in his arms, Yennefer fell silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse with contemplation.

"I didn't expect you, Wayne, to possess the eloquence that Geralt lacks," she remarked. "He's as unpolished as a piece of wood, unable to charm or deceive."

"Meanwhile, you and that Jaskier seem to have the gift of gab," she added with a chuckle. "Perhaps you shouldn't be a Witcher but rather a businessman or a bard. Who knows, you might have a brighter future in such pursuits."

As Yennefer's demeanor appeared to soften, Wayne responded with a smile, his tone gentle yet firm.

"Perhaps so, but Kaer Morhen has been my home since childhood. Becoming a Witcher was my only path, and I've never regretted it," Wayne explained. "I sincerely hope you'll reconsider your course of action, Yennefer. Seeking aid from mortal sources might only lead to disappointment in the end."

"However, if we were to appeal to higher beings, while it may seem impossible for you, to such entities, it could be a trifling matter," he continued, his expression grave as he weighed his words. "Rest assured, I happen to be acquainted with a legendary deity—the Goddess of the Lake."

"When I next encounter this divine being, I will beseech her on your behalf," Wayne assured her. "May she grant you the fulfillment of your wish."

Yennefer was taken aback by his words, a glimmer of hope sparking in her previously disheartened heart. She gazed at Wayne, her lips pressed together in a mixture of anticipation and gratitude.

"The legendary Goddess of the Lake? I've read about her in numerous texts," she murmured softly. "If you truly have a connection to that deity and can plead for her assistance in granting my wish..."

"Wayne, I will most certainly repay you," she vowed earnestly.

"Damn it, it's finally here. Those cursed sorceresses, cursed sorcerers, leaving us to fend for ourselves," grumbled one of the Crinfrid Reavers as they trudged across the makeshift wooden bridge crafted from felled tree trunks.

Just over an hour ago, when the stone bridge constructed by the trolls collapsed under Knight Eyck's actions, the sorceress promptly used magic to open a short-distance portal, whisking Geralt and Jaskier across to the other side while they were momentarily distracted. In mere moments, they found themselves on the opposite bank of the bridge.

Shortly thereafter, the sorcerer Dorregarey also employed floating magic to silently transport himself to the opposite side, leaving behind only the Yarpen dwarf squad, the three brothers, and the scout team. They remained stranded on the broken bridge's side, helplessly watching their companions depart, their hearts filled with anxiety but resigned to their predicament.

Thankfully, the dwarves possessed axes suitable for felling trees, and the brothers carried ropes for binding. With the aid of the sturdy youths from the scouting team, they labored for hours, utilizing the fallen trees to construct a temporary wooden bridge spanning the shattered remains of the stone one.

In a race against time, everyone exerted themselves to the utmost, drenched in sweat and wearied like hounds after a long chase. Yarpen wiped the sweat from his beard, silently cursing Yennefer's callousness. There had been an agreement between the sorceress and the dwarves.

Their initial pact had been to capitalize on the news of the dragon's hoard to market the gems amassed by wealthy dwarves over the years as treasures from the dragon's nest. Through this ruse, they aimed to leverage the dwarf's extensive trade network across the north for maximum profit and benefits.

Unexpectedly, when matters reached their conclusion, the sorceress had abandoned them, much to Yarpen's ire. Cobbler and his scouting team were the last to cross the temporary wooden bridge.

The cobbler, in his forties, placed his hands on his knees, taking a few deep breaths before retrieving an old rag from his waist to wipe the sweat from his forehead. With a worried tone, he remarked, "We must hasten. It took us three hours to construct the wooden bridge. Perhaps those two despicable sorcerers have slain the green dragon and absconded with its treasure. That's our fortune at stake; we cannot allow them to escape."

As a cobbler, accustomed to decades of hardship, he saw this as an opportunity to alter his destiny. He was resolute in his determination to claim the legendary dragon's treasure, no matter the cost.

Yarpen and the Crinfrid Reavers heard his words, regarding the cobbler with disdain. They thought to themselves that the extent of their generosity towards him, if any, would depend entirely on their mood when the time came.

After a brief respite, they continued their ascent up the steep hillside without delay. Upon reaching the site where Eyck and the golden dragon had clashed, they were all taken aback by the unexpected scene before them.

Contrary to their expectations, a towering behemoth, more than ten meters in height and adorned with gleaming golden scales, sat leisurely on the level ground, idly plucking at flowers and vegetation as if awaiting something.

With its feline elegance and fierce demeanor, coupled with its resplendent appearance, the golden dragon exuded an aura of power and legend that captivated all who beheld it.

The three brothers also noticed the presence of the sorcerer Dorregarey, Geralt, and Jaskier—or, more precisely, the Witcher and the bard—using a makeshift stretcher crafted from branches and cloth to transport an injured individual from the battleground.

Meanwhile, Dorregarey, armed with paper and pens of mysterious origin, appeared to be sketching a depiction of the magnificent and fearsome creature before them.

The three brothers initially felt a wave of defeat, fearing their plan to amass wealth might have faltered. However, they soon recognized the unique opportunity presented before them: the legendary golden dragon.

Realizing that even a portion of the golden dragon's gleaming scales or its magnificent head could fetch a princely sum from nobles or affluent individuals, they glanced back at Yarpen the dwarf and cobbler, observing the glimmer in their eyes and pondering whether they harbored similar intentions.

Just as they began plotting to employ their dragon-hunting expertise against this formidable foe, a voice akin to a resonating bronze horn echoed within their minds.

"Despicable dragon hunters, before you stands Villentretenmerth, the golden dragon. I offer you two choices: flee from this place with your tails between your legs and never return. I shall not pursue the fleeing rats."

"Alternatively, engage in honorable combat with me, man to dragon. You may assemble in groups of five, while I abstain from using magic, engaging in fair combat."

"Should you reject both options, I shall forsake honor and resort to magic to dispatch you."

The individuals on the hillside, still strategizing their assault on the dragon, were startled and terrified by the voice that resounded directly within their minds from hundreds of meters away. Though shaken and alarmed, they recognized that the golden dragon they faced possessed wisdom and magical prowess far beyond their expectations. In such unforeseen circumstances, prudent hunters would opt for a temporary retreat rather than risking a confrontation.

However, consumed by greed, both the Crinfrid Reavers and the cobbler's scouting team remained fixated on their plans to eliminate the valuable dragon, blinded to the immense power wielded by magical beings like the golden dragon.

Yarpen, the wise and knowledgeable dwarf, understood the folly of attempting to confront such a creature with only a small group. Yet, he refrained from warning the looters and shoemaker, recognizing that legends often paled in comparison to reality, and allowing them to test their own fates might prove instructive.

After a brief discussion among the group, Yarpen and his fellow dwarves opted to remain atop the hill, watching from a safe distance.

Meanwhile, the three brothers and the cobbler's team, comprising over a dozen individuals, took up their positions and surrounded Villentretenmerth in the open space. Armed with an array of weapons including axes, swords, spears, war hammers, and bows, they formed a menacing formation.

Notably, the three brothers wielded powerful dwarven crossbows originally belonging to Yarpen, exclusive weapons of the Dwarf Squad.

Observing these preparations, Villentretenmerth sighed deeply, a mixture of anger and lamentation evident in his expression as he anticipated the impending conflict.

Realizing the imminent danger, Villentretenmerth unleashed his magic, soaring into the air as he chanted in the ancient language of dragons. The surrounding atmosphere grew heavy and oppressive, as if the very air itself conspired against the charging assailants, dragging them down into an unseen quagmire of chaos and despair.

As Villentretenmerth completed his magic incantation, a deafening roar shattered the air, signaling the unleashing of his formidable power. The ground beneath the dragon hunters quaked violently, twisting and vibrating as a massive crack tore open the earth. In a matter of seconds, the chasm swallowed most of the charging assailants, engulfing them in its depths.

Meanwhile, Villentretenmerth, still airborne, deftly evaded the dwarven arrows launched by the remaining three brothers. Descending rapidly towards the survivors, he unleashed a torrent of searing flames from his gaping maw. The intense heat consumed everything in its path—flesh, fabric, foliage—reducing all to ash in a blazing inferno.

A piercing cry of agony echoed across the plain as the hapless victims were swiftly reduced to charred remnants. The entire confrontation unfolded in mere moments, a testament to the overwhelming might of the golden dragon's magical prowess.

Outside the fray, Geralt's expression grew grave, while Jaskier stood in stunned silence. Dorregarey, meanwhile, eagerly captured the scene with his paintbrush, his excitement palpable.

Observing the carnage from afar, Wayne, riding atop Myrgtabrakke, the green dragon, felt a surge of complex emotions. He marveled at the audacity of those who dared provoke a skyborne dragon, pondering their misguided recklessness. Yet, his attention soon shifted to a new development unfolding in the nearby forest—a contingent of over a hundred adventurers and militiamen, advancing in chariots toward the golden dragon's location.