"The banquet is already being prepared, and Eist and the princess have indeed arrived at the manor."
"Under these circumstances, it would be inappropriate for me to suddenly and unilaterally propose breaking off the engagement, and it would also damage Cintra's reputation and King Eist's image."
Hearing this, Geralt was stunned. His eyes flickered, and he immediately understood the crux of the problem.
He sharply lowered his head to look at Ciri standing beside him, and his words carried both disbelief and confirmation: "Wait, Ciri! Are you talking about the Grand Duke?.."
At that moment, Ciri realized what was happening. She rolled her eyes several times, let go of Geralt's hand, and instead took two steps closer to Karl.
She looked up and carefully examined Karl, her face showing surprise and uncertainty. She asked hesitantly: "You... you are Karl El? The Duke... of Terra?"
Karl nodded slightly, a soft and affirming smile appearing on his face, and he replied: "Yes, Ciri."
"I think you won't find another person named Karl El in this manor."
In an instant, Geralt and Ciri exchanged glances, seeing in each other's eyes the same shock and... relief?
Fortunately, after asking a few more questions, the plan of a "fake marriage to break the engagement" was not successfully implemented; otherwise, it would have caused a huge misunderstanding and become a laughing stock.
Geralt took a deep breath and quickly explained to Karl: "Sorry, Karl! It seems there's been some mistake."
He pointed to Ciri standing beside him: "Actually, Ciri is Cirilla, her full name is Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon."
"She... is the Princess of Cintra you are engaged to."
Ciri immediately puffed out her small chest, put her hands on her hips, and tried her best to look mature and grown-up.
She nodded vigorously in agreement: "Yes! That's right! I am Princess Ciri!"
Karl watched the dramatic scene unfolding before him, seeing in Ciri's feigned seriousness a mix of undeniable childish innocence.
He feigned the appropriate amount of surprise, looking at Ciri, who was standing almost at his hip.
Suddenly, a playful smile appeared on his face. He lightly tapped Ciri's forehead with his finger and said half-jokingly, "Ha ha, little one, you say you're a princess?"
He deliberately drew out his words, a mischievous glint in his eyes: "But I heard that the Princess of Cintra is an ugly duckling, much uglier than you… well, much uglier."
Hearing Karl's words, Ciri's face flushed like a kitten whose tail had been stepped on.
She stood with her hands on her hips, her chest heaving heavily with excitement, and her emerald eyes seemed to shoot fire.
"Who?! Who is spreading rumors about me! I am... I am beautiful..."
However, in the middle of the sentence, her momentum unconsciously weakened.
She unconsciously touched the tiny, dense, light brown freckles on her cheek with her little hand, and uncertainty crept into her voice.
After all, in the palace, the noble ladies and maids sometimes joked about her "not-so-aristocratic" freckles and slightly boisterous behavior when discussing her in private.
Geralt stood aside, watching the scene unfold. A faint smile appeared on his lips, and a glint of amusement flickered in his cat-like eyes.
He knew Karl too well to understand that he didn't actually doubt Ciri's identity.
Instead, he used this unusual method to both confirm the facts and unobtrusively tease the overly mischievous little princess.
Ciri wasn't stupid either. After the initial confusion and anger, she quickly understood the truth from Karl's smiling eyes.
He clearly believed her; he was just joking with her.
Realizing this, she snorted softly, turned her head away, and left Karl with the back of her head, an expression of "I'm angry."
However, her slightly trembling shoulders gave away that she wasn't really mad.
Seeing this, Karl simply smiled and didn't go over to comfort her; Ciri was just a child at heart.
This little joke wasn't enough for her to take it seriously; she would forget about it soon enough anyway.
He turned his gaze to Geralt and said seriously: "Since you're all here, I've recently developed… a meditation method, and it's quite effective."
"If you're interested, I can teach you all at once."
"Meditation? That's...?" Geralt lowered his hands from his chest, doubt in his eyes.
Ciri's curiosity was piqued, and she immediately forgot about her "anger." She turned her head and, blinking her big eyes, looked at Karl: "What is meditation?"
Karl didn't explain; a demonstration would be more convincing than words. He glanced at Dalton, who was standing quietly to the side.
Dalton immediately understood, stepped forward, and nodded slightly to Geralt and Ciri.
Then his expression became serious, and he gripped the hilt of the steel sword hanging at his belt with his right hand.
Clang!! The steel sword was drawn, reflecting a chilling light in the sunlight.
Dalton's chest expanded slightly, and his gaze instantly became sharper.
Simultaneously, his breathing rhythm noticeably changed: it became long, deep, and acquired a unique cadence.
Geralt's gaze was fixed on Dalton, and wondering what he was going to do, he suddenly saw his pupils contract at the sight.
Unexpectedly, a pale orange energy corona appeared on the steel sword in Dalton's hand, spreading and coalescing as if alive.
The next moment – whoosh! – the pale orange corona suddenly turned into raging flames, the intense heat causing the surrounding air to warp slightly.
The flames wrapped around the sword but did not harm it at all, as if the fire itself were part of the blade.
But that wasn't all. While Geralt and Ciri were marveling at what had happened, the flames on the sword receded like the tide.
In an instant, they were replaced by countless pale orange electrical arcs, jumping and crackling softly.
Immediately after, the electrical arcs disappeared, and the surface of the steel sword was again covered with a thin but incredibly dense pale orange energy film.
This series of changes was completed in just two or three seconds, smoothly and naturally, just like the original form the steel sword was supposed to take.
Dalton turned to face the stone lifting block used for strength training at the edge of the training ground. He gripped the sword with both hands and made a gesture as if to swing it forward.
Whoosh! The energy attached to the sword instantly detached from its blade, transforming into a crescent-shaped beam of light that shot through the air.
CRACK!! The light struck the center of the stone lifting block, accompanied by a sharp, piercing crack.
The sturdy stone lifting block instantly crumbled, shattering into countless tiny, nail-sized fragments that scattered across the ground with a clatter, raising a small cloud of dust.
Dalton slowly retreated, and with a slight flick of his wrist, the steel sword slid back into its scabbard.
Then he released his hands, seemingly intending to show something else, but Karl shook his head slightly, indicating that was enough.