Chapter 11

 Visitor from the Kingdom of Carbonihar

'Ruobeidra?'

Roberta repeated the name to herself.

She had never heard it before in her life. As a priest, she had received an education surpassing that of most nobles, yet most of what the lord before her said was unfamiliar.

A four-legged, winged lizard had been born before dwarves and elves? And the very first being granted intelligence was a dragon named Ruobeidra?

It was a story recorded neither in the countless scriptures she had memorized nor in any text.

This… isn't a joke, is it?

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him.

As always, his expression was calm and composed—far too young to speak of ages past. Yet whenever he opened his mouth, he told things that could not be ignored.

Thinking back, he had said similar things the very first day she met him. Explaining the origins of rites she did not know, and claiming that the rites taught by the Church were incorrect.

Still, those rites had produced results. He had successfully performed an infant baptism without following proper procedure. Could she deny it after seeing the outcome with her own eyes?

But the story of Ruobeidra and that race went beyond what she did not know—it might be a tale so ancient that even the Pantheon and the Pope knew nothing of it. It was a claim impossible to prove true or false.

"You asked me about dragons, so I have no choice but to mention their progenitor. It is the best example to explain what kind of race they are."

Whether he noticed her doubts or not, Ulrich, lord of Dithmarschen, leaned against the backrest of the bed set within the ger and continued speaking.

"As you know, in the distant past when the world was covered in fire, the gods brought water from another realm to extinguish it and make the land fertile. But when life did not rise on its own, they decided to intervene in creation."

He quoted a line from scripture:

'They conceived life upon the earth.'

It was from Genesis, the first book of the scriptures established by the Pantheon—something Roberta had heard and memorized countless times.

The gods shaped the world into a place suitable for life and created all kinds of plants and animals. Dwarves and elves were also born at that time. Dragons as well.

"Ruobeidra was one of the dragons conceived at that time. The Book of Genesis records it as if dragons were created alongside dwarves and elves, almost as an afterthought—but the truth is different. Just as humans had not yet been conceived when those two races were born, dwarves and elves had not yet been conceived when dragons were born."

Ulrich added that, therefore, Ruobeidra had been born before dwarves and elves and was a being that possessed intelligence.

"Roberta, you serve Lady Ganymea, do you not?"

She answered that she did.

"You must also know that Lady Ganymea had an adopted child—that he was human, and that he was given the name Hestio."

"Even those who aren't priests know that."

Ulrich smiled faintly.

"Today, he is regarded almost as a god of humanity. Why do you think that is? As I said before, Hestio was not a god, but a human—merely one taken in as Ganymea's adopted child who lived in the heavens. And yet, why?"

"You're not asking because you don't know, are you?"

Roberta narrowed her eyes.

"Think about his achievements."

Hestio, adopted by Ganymea, had passed down heavenly knowledge to humans when they lived primitive lives. And when the gods departed, he remained with humanity on earth.

He could have followed the gods to the realm the Pantheon called heaven—but he refused, for the sake of his kin, and descended to the world.

Then, until the age of dwarves and elves ended and the age of humans began, he guided humanity before vanishing.

"There were countless forms of life created by the heavens. Immediately after the gods left, there were civilizations as powerful as those of dwarves and elves. But today, even their names are not passed down. Their species went extinct. It is only said that once, such mighty races existed."

The scriptures said that in that era, humans were treated no differently from monkeys. Mentioning this, Roberta asked: And what of humans today?

"The humans once scorned as monkeys, the humans who built civilization last—have become the race that leads an age longer than any before it. Because there was a shepherd who guided us rightly through the storm."

"..."

"That shepherd was Lord Hestio. Even though he eventually left us… our very existence is his achievement. That is why we praise his deeds and long for his return."

According to scripture, records of Hestio end at the close of the age of elves. The Pantheon explained that he had completed his work and returned to the heavens with the gods.

But some priests and theologians, including Roberta, interpreted it differently. Even as the adopted child of a god, he was still human—perhaps he had simply failed to reach immortality.

Of course, such an interpretation could never be spoken aloud. The Pantheon maintained that his departure was temporary, and that he would one day return to guide humanity again.

"Longing…" Ulrich murmured, as if tasting the word.

"Why are you asking about him?"

"Because Ruobeidra was the same. Though you would not know it."

The same?

Roberta tilted her head, unable to grasp the meaning.

"He, too, was taken into the heavens, then descended for the sake of his kin on earth. And on the day the gods departed, he was offered the chance to leave with them—but he refused. Just as Hestio left Ganymea's side to remain with his people, so did he."

"What?"

Her eyes widened.

"It is something omitted from the scriptures compiled by the Church. Not deliberately, most likely—it was probably lost in the course of oral transmission. After all, who takes interest in the history of another race?"

She was at a loss for words, her lips trembling.

It was only natural. The most common title for Hestio was 'the one who remained.' Yet now she was being told he had not been the only one.

Should she cry out in blasphemy?

Hesitation trembled within her eyes.

Seeing this, Ulrich let out a short sigh.

"Does it matter how many remained?"

"Of course—"

"Does that change the value of what he did?"

Roberta fell silent.

"Rather, think about this. Roberta—if what I say is true, why was it not known? If he lived a life like Hestio's, why was he forgotten?"

She hesitated for a moment before asking for the reason.

"Because he failed."

Ulrich answered without hesitation.

"He knew that chaos would come once the gods departed, and that his kind would not survive it. So both of them shared the same purpose—to save their people—but the results were different."

"..."

"That alone is the reason they left behind not even their names. Even though records were lost through repeated dark ages, humanity prospered and thus remembers Hestio. But they did not."

He emptied his teacup and set it down.

"Why did he fail?"

"I don't know every detail myself."

He added,

"But one thing is certain—dragons do not form groups. Put kindly, they have strong pride. Put less kindly, they are an arrogant race. They do not tolerate anyone standing above them, not even the progenitor of their kind."

So that was why there had never been an age of dragons?

"If there is a reason for the failure, that would be it."

Roberta thought about Ruobeidra.

He had lived a life like Hestio's, yet unlike him, he failed. Humans willingly followed Hestio, but Ruobeidra's kin did not.

As a result, dragons became something like creatures from fairy tales—mysterious beings. Even their progenitor, who should have been their shepherd, was forgotten by history, passed down only through the words of this one man.

"How do you know him, my lord?"

"If I told you I met him in person, would you believe me?"

"Well… honestly, that would be hard to believe."

Roberta smiled faintly, assuming he was joking.

"For a dragon born at the beginning of time to still be alive today, it would need an incredibly long lifespan—longer than generations of elves combined. It would be more accurate to call it immortal… or an eternal being, wouldn't it?"

He did not answer. Instead, he smiled just as she had.

That made something in her chest tighten.

"…Are you saying he is still alive?"

"No. He died—around the time the empire changed."

He added that it had been the end of his natural lifespan.

"As you said, he lived an extraordinarily long life. Even he did not expect to live that long. He did not possess immortality, so in the end, he had to face death—but he is the only dragon who truly lived out the full span of his life."

"The time when the empire changed" referred to the period when a new dynasty was established.

For example, the Second Empire belonged to the Isturia dynasty, and after it collapsed due to misrule, it fractured before being reestablished under the Jokuster dynasty.

Though the divided empire was never fully unified, the Jokuster dynasty gained recognition from the feudal lords and ascended the throne—marking the beginning of the Third Empire. That was roughly 1,400 years ago.

"..."

Roberta's eyes trembled.

He had mentioned his age before. While speaking of the Little Ice Age, he had implied that he existed before the founding of the Third Empire. He had even hinted that, though a pure human, he had been born at the beginning of time.

Back then, she had dismissed it as exaggeration. How could a human—neither dwarf nor elf—possess a lifespan exceeding a thousand years? And maintain youth, no less?

But as time passed, as her encounters with the lord continued, that conclusion began to waver.

How much of it is true?

Was there any truth at all?

She could not tell. There was no evidence.

Ruobeidra was a being absent from all records. Ulrich had no recorded history prior to arriving in Dithmarschen. Even if someone she trusted appeared and said, "It's true," it would still be difficult to believe.

And yet, his claims shook her mind.

If it were true…

If everything he said was the truth—

The implications of that single assumption were enormous.

She quickly tried to shake the thought away. It was not only absurd, but irreverent—dangerous, even. Her common sense screamed that it could not be.

"Now you understand."

Ulrich spoke.

Roberta snapped her head up. While she had been lost in thought, he had risen and was now standing at the entrance. Morning sunlight poured through the open flap of the ger, and a warm breeze drifted in.

"Dragons are a fallen race. They are not yet extinct, but they soon will be. From the moment Ruobeidra failed, their fate was sealed."

"..."

"A race like that—a race whose progenitor is forgotten—how many people would take interest in them? And how many would believe they still exist today?"

Her expression stiffened, and she pressed her lips together.

Though she had lived in the Great Temple of Noire and encountered all kinds of races, she had never truly seen or heard of dragons. She believed in their existence only because they were mentioned in ancient texts.

If someone asked whether dragons still existed, she would probably answer vaguely, "Perhaps somewhere." If even she, a priest, was uncertain, then others would find it even harder to believe.

"And yet, our guest has come seeking dragons."

Roberta recalled the day the visitors arrived.

They had come at dusk. As the townsfolk who lived at the base of the hills were lighting fires to prepare their evening meals, six outsiders arrived in the city of Freiche.

Freiche—or rather, Dithmarschen—rarely saw visitors. There was little reason for anyone to come to such a harsh frontier. At best, it was a place where desperate criminals ended up after exhausting all other options.

With Lord Ulrich in a deep slumber among the Bard tribe, the butler Bernhard received them in his stead. He asked their purpose.

And they answered:

"We have come in search of dragons. We require a guide."

After a moment of thought, Bernhard asked Roberta to wake the lord and inform him of the situation—saying that, whether he came or not, he would provide an answer in some way.

"What should we do? Shall I relay your decision to them?"

"No."

Ulrich shook his head.

"They said they need a guide, did they not?"

As he stepped out of the ger, Kurt, the tribal chief, approached leading a horse.