468. The Death of Lebioda! The Dragon Slain by Sol!

"Prophet?" Danthe frowned.

"Prophet Lebioda," Sam replied devoutly, "Shepherd of the Gods, merciful teacher, a man of noble sacrifice for the sake of truth… I have sworn to live this life following the path of the Prophet's wisdom…"

From Danthe's back, Allen raised an eyebrow.

He had heard of Lebioda.

In his memory, Lebioda had once been just a humble shepherd.

Like the sages of the Spring and Autumn period from his previous life, he traveled from place to place preaching philosophy and wisdom about life. Over time, his teachings earned him fame and reverence as a "Prophet," attracting followers who walked his path.

His insights were compiled into the Prophet Lebioda's Wisdom (also known as Good Book), and passed down through the generations.

His end, however, was quite ironic.

When a village was ravaged by a dragon, the villagers, upon hearing of Lebioda's arrival, begged him to help rid them of the threat.

He actually agreed—and as a mere mortal, was naturally incinerated and swallowed whole by the dragon.

Lebioda's death should have been seen as the foolish demise of a man who overestimated himself and met his end as a result. But somehow, after his death, he became even more revered as a saint.

Currently, his teachings were mostly followed by commoners, but within a hundred years, his followers could be found in Toussaint, Novigrad, Kovir, and Poviss, among both peasants and nobles.

For instance, in the original timeline, Queen Zuleyka of Kovir and Poviss—renowned for her wisdom—regarded The Good Book as sacred scripture.

At its height, the influence of the Church of Lebioda rivaled that of the cult of Melitele, if not surpassed it.

Perhaps it was because Lebioda's words truly carried profound insight. Or maybe it was because he himself, much like other founders of righteous faiths, was deeply compassionate and nearly flawless in character.

But what made one uneasy upon deeper thought was this:

The village where Lebioda was killed by the dragon was near Ban Ard—making it hard not to suspect some hidden conspiracy.

"So, you already knew…" Sam trailed off as he saw that Danthe showed no particular surprise. He fell silent, then said firmly, "You really didn't come here just to recover from injuries, did you?"

"What gave it away?" Allen peeked out from behind Danthe's back.

Sam wasn't startled by Allen's "sudden awakening," but he hadn't expected that between Master Danthe and this child named Fred, it would be the kid who seemed to take the lead.

"This is Drakenborg—the closest place to hell in the world. No one comes here to recover. I've been stationed here for nearly ten years and haven't seen a single case."

"And more obviously, Master Danthe, though you tried to appear anxious, if someone truly close to you were severely wounded…"

Sam paused, lowered his head slightly, and added flatly, "You wouldn't be this calm."

A few seconds of silence settled over the corner of Drakenborg.

Got it. Danthe's acting was terrible, and they got exposed the moment they crossed the drawbridge… Allen thought.

"Take your apprentice and leave now, Master Danthe," Sam urged again. "Lord Evenson has summoned Karlo, Wyatt, and Milo—they're the specialists in Drakenborg, trained to deal with highly skilled non-human swordsmen, archers, and mages."

"I even saw an 'Aen Saevherne'—claiming to be of the Aen Seidhe—fall to them with my own eyes…"

"Wyatt held a magical greatshield in front, and even when the elven sage's spells shook the walls and ruptured eardrums, he blocked them as if swatting away dust. Then Milo led a charge of heavily armored cavalry that shattered the elves' formation like tearing paper…"

"But in the end, the Aen Saevherne wasn't killed by the cavalry—Carlo somehow decapitated him out of nowhere…"

"And Lord Evenson himself is a master swordsman. There's even a male sorcerer from the Rissberg Group's Civil Cooperative Organization residing in his quarters. When he heard of your arrival, he became extremely excited…"

Word by word, Sam did all he could to describe the bottomless chasm lying ahead of them.

And as he wished, Danthe and Allen both frowned.

After a while, Sam finished, slightly out of breath.

Clearly, he had rehearsed this speech many times in his head.

"If we were to listen to you and leave now… do you understand what punishment awaits you?" Allen suddenly asked.

Sam was silent for a moment, then softly replied: "The Prophet once said, on the road to eternity, everyone must bear their own burden."

"The Prophet also said, 'Good deeds must bear good fruit, or else evil will flood the world. An age of scorn will come. Leaves will fall, buds will wither, fruits will rot, seeds will turn bitter, and clear water in the valleys will turn to ice…'"

He paused, then added solemnly: "I may not be able to lead humanity to truth like the Prophet, but I can follow in his footsteps."

"To betray my own conscience is far more painful than any sacrifice."

Danthe and Allen were silent again for a few seconds.

"I apologize for having doubted you earlier…" Allen said.

Whether it was out of faith or gratitude, though Sam was just a prison guard in this massive fortress, he deserved anyone's respect.

"So do I," Danthe added.

"I've hesitated before—and I'm not a good man. In fact, there are no good men in all of Drakenborg," Sam shook his head, then quickly urged again, "So please, follow me now. If we wait any longer, Lord Evenson will start getting suspicious."

Danthe looked at Allen. Allen gently shook his head.

"But there's no need, Sam," Allen said. "Please, continue leading the way…"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Sam frowned and glared at Allen, cutting him off. "Kids shouldn't interfere!"

Then he turned to Danthe: "Master Danthe, what lies ahead is an abyss—don't go!"

Allen froze. It had been a while since anyone had scolded or questioned him.

Danthe chuckled softly: "Allen's words are my words…"

Sam grew anxious at those words and was about to speak again.

But Danthe placed a firm hand on his shoulder and said solemnly, "No need to persuade me, Sam. You have something you believe you must do—even if it costs your life. I, too, have something I must do."

"My apprentice was taken by Evenson. I'm going to save him. And there's a debt to settle with those people you mentioned."

"But thank you for your help, Sam."

"If Lebioda knew he had a follower like you, he'd probably laugh out loud in joy, drink a few more swigs of wine, and dance the shepherd's merry jig around the fire…"

"Master Danthe, you…" Sam was stunned as he caught the meaning in his words.

"Yes, I knew Lebioda, Sam. Living long enough has its perks—like seeing the people around you slowly become legends…"

Danthe paused for a moment.

"Though that's not always a good thing…"

"When we get my apprentice back, I'll tell you all about Lebioda. He was quite the character—in every sense of the word. But for now, please keep leading the way."

Sam opened his mouth, but under Danthe's sincere gaze, he could only sigh and continue walking ahead.

If he wished not to be stopped from risking his life to do what was right—how could he then try to dissuade another from doing the same?

'On the road to eternity, everyone must bear their own burden.'

And yet…

The Prophet's story—he feared—would never be heard again.

----------------------

Once they returned to the main path, it was clear that the number of guards had significantly increased. All of them were eyeing the prison's lone outlier with cold vigilance.

Sam had been right—there was no turning back now.

"Master Danthe, did you really know Lebioda?" Allen asked curiously, eyes still shut, speaking directly into Danthe's mind.

"Of course. Lebioda was a shepherd from Daevon, and also a Kaedwenian," Danthe replied. "Back then, he often made requests to witchers on behalf of nearby villages…"

"Every master witcher of the School of the Wolf knew him—me, the Grandmaster, Vesemir, Aristo, White… well, all the witchers except you. You hadn't even been born yet…"

Danthe attempted a joke, though it wasn't particularly funny, so Allen didn't laugh.

"That good book… is it real? Did he write it himself?"

"Indeed…"

Danthe paused for a moment and feigned weakness from his injuries to evade the third patrol they'd encountered in a short span.

These guards were clearly more elite than those stationed at the gate—clad in full medium armor, wielding swords instead of crude spears. A savage bloodlust clung to them; their eyes were fierce, and they reeked of violence and experience.

As they passed, the medallions hanging on the chests of both witchers began to faintly hum—a warning.

Once the patrol was out of earshot, Danthe continued,

"Well… that book truly holds Lebioda's wisdom. Of course, much of it also came from his followers. But contrary to popular belief—or what's recorded in the chronicles—Lebioda, though born a shepherd, didn't gain his wisdom from shepherding. He gained it from sorcery…"

"What?!" Allen blurted.

Danthe nodded slightly. "It's impossible for a man to speak of what he has never seen. Lebioda was, in fact, a sorcerer. His knowledge and insight came after awakening his magical abilities and accessing the libraries of Ban Ard."

"Many of his followers were also male mages—sorcerers, sorceresses, knights, nobles, witchers… His followers were quite a mix."

"There were even some from the School of the Wolf?" Allen asked in disbelief.

"Of course. Fifty or sixty years ago, monsters still roamed freely. Without witchers, those apprentice mages and sorceresses would never have survived their travels," Danthe said with a short chuckle. "You might not know this, but your vice-captain Aristo was one of Lebioda's followers…"

"Of course, that stubborn mule Aristo never once admitted it."

'You're gathering too many people—it'll attract monsters!' 'Witchers don't work for free!' …those were his exact words."

"You were a follower of Lebioda too, weren't you?" Allen asked, catching the implication in Danthe's words.

Danthe fell silent for a few seconds, then shook his head. "I wouldn't call myself a follower of Lebioda…"

"Then why do you know all this so clearly?"

Danthe didn't answer immediately.

They were getting closer to the two towers. Patrols were becoming more frequent.

The hardened soldiers no longer bothered to hide their aggression, their gazes burning with a desire to test themselves against witchers.

Danthe gave no response. He simply pretended to be too dazed to notice and followed Sam quietly.

"Just as you were Vesemir's travel apprentice… Aristo was mine, back in the day," Danthe finally said in his mind.

"That explains it…" Allen thought. He hadn't known about the mentor-student relationship between Danthe and the volatile Aristo. If Danthe hadn't said so himself, he'd always assumed his fiery vice-captain was younger than the reserved Danthe.

Still… that raised more questions.

"Why did no one know Lebioda was a male mage? And that dragon—the one that killed him—what kind of dragon was it? You were all there. Couldn't you kill it? Why not call Grandmaster Sol?"

Allen clearly had a deep interest in Lebioda—the man who, as a mere mortal, founded a religion that spanned from north to south and captivated half the witcher world. He fired off question after question.

Danthe remained silent for a long time.

Several groups of guards passed by. It wasn't until they walked right beneath the nearest tower that he finally let out a quiet sigh and said: "Do you know where the dragon head on the bronze doors of the council hall came from?"

"Huh?" Allen opened his eyes in surprise. They had just approached another tower that seemed to be their destination. He glanced at the red mark on the ground, then closed his eyes again.

Before Allen could ask, Danthe sighed and began explaining in his mind, his tone filled with reverence and regret:

"Lebioda. He was a genius, rejected by Ban Ard and sacrificed by Hen Gedymdeith. No—no, it wasn't Ban Ard or Hen Gedymdeith who abandoned him…"

"It was that he looked down on the Brotherhood of Sorcerers. All their noble-sounding slogans about the greater good of mankind, yet behind the scenes they conducted horrific experiments, disregarding civilian lives, even using human lives to test spells…"

"Lebioda shared the same noble ideals as us of the Wolf School… no, even nobler than ours…"

"That's why, when he was destroyed, it happened all the more quickly—and silently."

Allen was stunned by this and couldn't help but ask:"What kind of noble ideals did he have?"

"And… isn't Prophet Lebioda's Wisdom still circulating?"

"Lebioda still has many followers—why say 'silently'?"

Danthe didn't answer, because their guide, Sam, had suddenly stopped.

"Master Danthe, we…"

"It seems… we've arrived…"

.....

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