Geralt stopped, calmly meeting Foltest's nearly blazing gaze as he prepared to answer.
He omitted the details of the spell shield and Triss's teleportation, describing the battle in the most concise language possible.
"We found its lair—the sarcophagus. According to the method for lifting the curse, someone needed to occupy it until dawn to break the curse."
"After we wounded it and drove it back, Mr. El proposed that he enter the sarcophagus."
"Since his plate armor could better withstand any potential attacks, I was responsible for luring it away to buy Mr. El time."
Geralt paused and added: "When I left, the sarcophagus was intact, Mr. El was safe inside, and now we only need to wait until dawn."
Hearing this, Foltest's brows furrowed, and the suspicion in his eyes almost turned tangible.
Let a young man of such promise, with a great future, lie alone in a sarcophagus inside a monster's lair all night? It sounded absurd and insane!
He stared at Geralt with a sharp gaze, trying to find traces of deceit or evasion of responsibility on that calm face.
"Is what you say true? You left him in danger and fled yourself?" Foltest's voice was cold.
"It was the only viable plan at the time, Your Majesty. Mr. El made the most reasonable choice." Geralt's voice remained even.
Foltest stared at Geralt for a long time, clearly not entirely convinced.
Karl's safety had clouded his judgment, and his instinctive distrust of Geralt, a non-human, took over.
He abruptly waved his hand and said to the captain of the guard beside him: "Disarm him and keep him under guard!"
"Until Karl El emerges alive, he is not to leave this place by a single step!"
The guards immediately stepped forward and nervously surrounded Geralt.
Geralt offered no resistance, calmly allowing them to take the two swords from his back and the dagger from his belt.
For all the alchemical bombs and potions, he even raised his hands in a gesture of compliance.
Because he knew in his heart that Triss must be watching everything through her crystal ball.
If Karl truly faced uncontrollable danger, that powerful lady would never stand idly by.
The immediate punishment was simply an overreaction born of the king's anxiety.
Looking at the disarmed Geralt, Foltest took a deep breath.
He suppressed his surging anger and anxiety and said as calmly as he could, but still with menace: "Witcher, I will wait until tomorrow morning."
"If, when the sun rises, I cannot see Karl and my daughter Adda emerge alive from there..."
He paused, not finishing the second half of the sentence.
But the cold look in his eyes and the implication of the unfinished words were more chilling than a direct threat.
The brutal punishment seemed like a foregone conclusion for Geralt if the commission failed.
And Geralt simply stood expressionless in the silence, surrounded by guards, his white hair slightly ruffled by the night wind.
His cat-like eyes gazed into the distance, towards the quiet, dark palace that had swallowed his companion, and no one knew what he was thinking at that moment.
...…
Inside the sarcophagus, there was absolute darkness and suffocating silence.
Karl leaned against the cold, rough stone wall, clearly hearing his own calm heartbeat and muffled breathing, while the Striga that was Adda was nearby.
Her roars and cries, full of pain and fury, along with the cacophony of claws frantically scratching at the sarcophagus lid, formed the main theme of the long first half of the night.
Occasionally, the sarcophagus would tremble slightly from the Striga's futile strikes or attempts to move the heavy stone.
But the Yrden Sign left by Geralt acted like invisible shackles, firmly sealing the lid.
No matter how frantic the outside became, the inside of the sarcophagus remained as stable as a mountain.
Karl felt not fear, but rather pity for the somewhat tragic fate of Princess Adda.
The blame for this could be placed solely on Foltest, for letting the king dabble, causing envy among the courtiers, and then secretly cursing.
Karl closed his eyes to rest, regulating his breathing, conserving his energy, his ears always catching the sounds from outside.
He didn't know how long it took, but the noise outside gradually subsided. The scratching became intermittent, turning into a tired, low growl.
In the second half of the night, silence finally prevailed, leaving only the occasional sound of wind from the depths of the palace and the rustling of unknown insects.
The Striga, perhaps exhausted from its wounds, or realizing it couldn't open the sarcophagus, finally decided to rest nearby.
Karl was finally able to clear his mind and wait through the darkest hours until dawn.
...
Outside the palace, Foltest had stood in the cold night wind for almost the entire night.
His face was pale, his eyes sunken, covered with terrible red veins, and his magnificent fur cloak couldn't hide the slight tremor of his body.
Anxiety, worry, anticipation, and fear gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.
He would occasionally stare at the dead ruins of the palace, then suddenly turn his head to look at Geralt, who was under guard.
The suspicion and anger in his eyes were almost ready to erupt; every time the wind blew and grass rustled, his heart pounded.
He simultaneously waited for someone to emerge but feared that the final outcome would be something he didn't want to see.
Geralt, in contrast, appeared unusually calm, leaning against a broken wall with his arms crossed.
His cat-like eyes sometimes watched the eastern sky lighten, and sometimes glanced past the anxious king.
A Witcher's physique meant he didn't need as much sleep as ordinary people.
More importantly, he calmly trusted Karl's strength and Triss's last-resort guarantee.
But Geralt's composure, in Foltest's eyes, seemed more like indifference or a guilty conscience.
Triss, far away in the laboratory in the Temple District, also stayed up all night, almost never leaving the magic crystal ball.
Although for most of the time the sphere showed only darkness and ominous silence,
she still insisted, afraid of missing any fluctuation.
It was only at dawn that she couldn't hold on any longer and lay down next to the crystal ball for a short nap.
The first true light of dawn, like a golden sword, cut through the haze over the old Vizima palace.
It also streamed through a hole in the palace dome, directly illuminating the silent marble sarcophagus.
The lid of the sarcophagus made a light, dull scraping sound, slowly opening from the inside, creating a gap.
In the laboratory, Triss, who had been sleeping lightly, was instantly awakened by the sight and sound from the crystal ball.