Chapter 159: Lugos the Mad's Dream Cavern

Inside the fortress of Lord Carys-a-Mur. Der Drummond, the hearth fire crackled and warmed the room. After handing his weapons to the guards and pushing past the heavy wind-blocking curtain, Victor heard the sound of complaints and saw the lord listening intently to a testimony.

Mad Lugos was a bald man with deep-set features, a full face of snow-white beard, and a thick red tunic. He sat boldly upon his throne, radiating the demeanor not of a traditional lord, but rather of a fierce clan chieftain.

With his back turned, wearing a blue tunic and speaking in a shrill voice, was presumably the father of the foul-mouthed brothers, Elder Leaf of Alabyon.

The elder was heard saying emotionally, "My lord... my lineage has been passed down unbroken since the time of Emperor Urien. That filthy dog has cut off my bloodline; he must die!"

"The judgment is mine to make, Leaf," the lord replied casually, his eyes fixed upon the young man.

"But he is a Todaroch, not a Drummond! He doesn't even need a public trial. He should be put to the sword immediately, he—"

Leaf’s voice was cut short as Victor stepped before Mad Lugos, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed. "Greetings to you, Lord Lugos of Drummond.

I am Victor, from east of Zerrikania, the crosser of the Korath Desert, born of the storm, the Chosen One, the Unstained of the Oracle of Melitele, the Witcher and Alchemist of Belen, the Guardian of Dawn, the Crosser of the Path of Heroes, the Champion of Fists of Fury, the Last Dragonborn—Dovahkiin—the Bear-Smasher, Victor Corleone."

Ever since the incident with King Bran, the youth had not recited his full string of titles for a long time, as there was no need. But today he chanted them once more, simply because he could not be bothered to entangle himself in Leaf’s nonsense, and he decided to try using the "Skellige wind" to plead Vigi's case.

Lugos chuckled. "Mister Victor, the way you demand an audience is truly impressive. I never expected our first meeting to be under such circumstances."

"I think these circumstances are rather fine," the youth replied, a smile absent from his face. "It gives me a chance to witness the justice of Clan Drummond. You must know that insulting the honor of the Dovahkiin is likewise an insult to King Bran."

The lord blew his nose, his gaze sharp. "The honor of the Dragonborn insulted? What are you talking about? What is this about?"

Victor narrowed his eyes. "I accuse Leaf’s sons, Kory and Crocky, of blocking my path in the tavern and attempting to insult my honor. All of this can be verified by Jeronde, son of Siegfried."

Wrapped in his blue thick tunic and hooded cloak, Leaf grew extremely nervous upon hearing this. "...W-Wait... Jeronde bears a grudge against me. He cannot serve as a witness; he cannot prove anything!"

The elder’s appearance combined the most unfortunate features of his two sons: a fat head, big ears, triangular eyes, and a hook nose—an eyesore impossible to forget once seen.

Ignoring Leaf, Victor continued, "Therefore, Vigi cut them down to defend my honor—the honor of the Dovahkiin!"

"T-There is no proof! His words have no proof, no one supports him," Leaf stammered.

"So you are accusing me of lying?" Victor stretched his shoulders. "My lord, I demand a duel with him to defend my dignity."

Hearing this, Mad Lugos burst out into hearty laughter, slapping his thighs. "Hahaha! Leaf wouldn't withstand a hundred-crack punch from you. Hell, you wouldn't even need a hundred; I reckon he'd drop dead from two."

The elder raised his voice. "My lord, t-this is no laughing matter! He is merely twisting words; nobody heard anything of the sort beforehand—"

"—Silence," Lugos cut him off, his laughter fading. "I have reached a verdict."

He rose abruptly, his physique robust and imposing. Thus far, among all the island lords the youth had met, not a single one was someone you could easily cross.

He waved a hand. "I am sorry, Dragonborn, but as much as I would like to believe you, I must uphold justice. I am aware of the bitter feud between Jeronde and Leaf, so no one can corroborate your account. I have no choice but to find Vigi guilty. The punishment is death by suffocation."

Hearing the verdict, Leaf wore a smug expression, casting a sidelong glance at Victor filled with the grim satisfaction of revenge fulfilled.

Mad Lugos observed the Dovahkiin—whose expression remained calm and steady. He continued with a satisfied tone, "However, you may pay the blood-price to redeem him. You need only pay an amount of silver equal to the combined weight of Kory and Crocky."

Victor smiled faintly. "I do not carry that much coin with me."

The lord nodded. "I know you don't. Therefore, I shall pay this 'blood debt' for you!"

Upon hearing this, Leaf protested loudly, "Wait... My lord, surely that is not lawful!"

Mad Lugos swept a contemptuous gaze over him. "I am the law. Now go back, Leaf. If you pester me any further, I will tie the silver around your neck and sink you to the bottom of the sea."

Taking two steps backward, Leaf, the elder of Alabyon, trudged dejectedly out of the room.

The hearth fire crackled. The lord and the youth exchanged a silent look.

Breaking the silence, Victor rubbed his nose. "Is there anything I can do for you? Actually, you didn't need to pay that much; I would have helped you anyway."

Lugos waved a hand slightly. "What I need is not mere willingness to help, but wholehearted assistance. Since the opportunity to do a favor has presented itself, I might as well take it."

"Just like that?! I thought you'd at least keep up appearances a little longer."

Lugos’s gaze was bright and piercing, powerful enough to intimidate even without a deliberate glare. "There is no need. After you used the Dragon Shout to request an audience, I knew you were a clever man. But what I wasn't yet certain of was whether you were a man of honor. Are you?"

"Of course. 'The Dovahkiin always pays his debts.' Within the limits of my ability, my lord, I am ready to serve you."

Mad Lugos nodded in satisfaction, then turned his head aside, seeming somewhat reluctant to speak, and fell silent for a long moment.

"My son, 'Alan Lugos,' is a fool. I can almost imagine the future title of the leader of Drummond being 'Fool Lugos,' damn it. He is going through a rebellious phase and plans to go on an adventure to find himself—which is normal. But instead of going to crusade against the Black-clad ones or raiding a monastery, he has taken it into his head to go south to the Druids' 'Cave of Dreams' to undergo a trial.

The trouble is... most people who go there never return."

The youth blinked. Every family had its difficult scriptures; the Mad One would undoubtedly prefer his son to go hunt down the Black-clad ones—the Nilfgaardians—even if it resulted in rivers of blood, rather than attempting those mysterious Druid trials.

Lugos placed his left hand on his hip and pointed his right finger at the youth. "You are not only clever, but valiant. Your reputation has spread across the islands; even that old bastard Bran acknowledges you as a Dragonborn who is both scholar and warrior. Therefore, I want you to accompany Alan there, and bring him back safely. No matter how foolish he is, I still need him to succeed me.

Once this matter is settled, we are even—unless you prefer to have your honor dragged through the mud."

He searched his memory... The name "Cave of Dreams" sounded somewhat familiar, yet it failed to awaken any specific memories from his past life. Since it had been forgotten so thoroughly, it certainly couldn't be an overly difficult task.

"If I insist on going with him, won't he feel it's just another arrangement by his father and become resentful?"

"He cannot refuse the Dovahkiin. Your name carries considerable weight among the young; who could refuse to undergo a trial alongside a legendary hero? At least, I am certain Alan cannot."

Thus, Victor nodded. "Have a good ship prepared for me at Hindarsfjall Port. Ah, no... not a good ship, just an ordinary one. Let Vigi handle the preparations for the voyage. Once Alan and I return safely, I will continue my journey."

Mad Lugos swept his large hand through the air. "It's a deal."

...

The gathering place of the druids is known as the "Druid Circle," surrounded by ancient trees of life, serving as a sanctuary for wild animals within.

All kinds of wildlife—sheep, wolves, venomous snakes, and even pterosaurs—can coexist peacefully and harmlessly within the Druid Circle, and human hunting of creatures is strictly forbidden in this region.

South of Kaer Muire lies just such a harmonious and serene Druid Circle, the training ground of the "Dream Druids"—the Cave of Dreams.

Departing from Hindarsfjall Port and traveling along the coast for two days, Victor and Alan Lugos's party were now waiting outside the cave while the druids prepared for the trial.

The youth stood by the shore watching the tide. The ebb and flow of the tides were just like human life, with its lows and highs.

This time he was operating alone; the other members of his traveling band each had their own tasks. Vigi remained at Hindarsfjall Port to handle the matters of the new ship, the *Thousand Suns*, and the hiring of crew members.

Unlike her usual insistence on following him everywhere, Angoulême had proactively asked to stay behind at the port to gather intelligence, learn swimming techniques, and study ship management.

The youth felt quite gratified by the young woman's proactive change in striving to better herself. Indeed, a fall into the pit brings wit in its bit; after the lesson of nearly drowning in the sea, she had realized at a young age the importance of acquiring a secondary skillset, ensuring her future path would be much steadier.

A voice called out from a distance, "Vike, the druids say they are ready. They want those of us participating in the trial to go in."

The speaker was Alan Lugos. Years of running about on the sea had given him, at just over twenty years of age, the face of a man in his early thirties.

To Alan's enemies—such as the coastal provinces of Nilfgaard—he was a ruthless, burly demon with brown hair and brown eyes, but when facing Victor, he was simply an enthusiastic and straightforward young man.

He was immensely fond of *The Return of the Dragonborn* and the heroic chronicles of the Dovahkiin. Incidentally, his hair was thick and styled in a slicked-back fashion.

Victor and Alan walked shoulder to shoulder to the entrance of the cave, where two men were already standing and waiting.

Lugos introduced them: "Vike, these are my finest soldiers, and they will accompany us. Allow me to introduce the man known as 'Wolverine' Gerlof."

He was a standard Skellige stout-hearted man with a white beard, whose name and nickname both differed by only a single letter from a certain someone else.

He nodded. "Greetings, Dovahkiin."

"And this is Big-Mouth Ulf," Alan continued his introductions.

Ulf did not speak, merely bowing slightly in greeting.

The youth nodded in return, then looked at Alan with a puzzled expression. "Why is Ulf so quiet?"

"Because he has no tongue," Alan put on his helmet.

"What happened? Did he lick a frozen blade in the winter?"

Gerlof chimed in from the side, "No. He spoke ill of King Bran while he was drunk, and when he sobered up, he pulled out his own tongue. From then on he could no longer speak, but he preserved his honor."

Victor covertly rolled his eyes. "Ah... honor. I should have guessed.

Regarding this trial of the cave, do you have any idea what to expect? At least tell me what kind of monsters we'll run into."

Gerlof answered heartily, "The answer to that question is something only you will know!

The elders say the Cave of Dreams reflects your deepest fears, turning your most terrifying nightmares into reality—whether they be of the past, the future, or the present."

Alan added with a cheerful laugh, "Come to think of it, I really want to know what the 'Dovahkiin' could possibly be afraid of!"

Then he waved his hand. "Well, enough chatting, gentlemen. Grab your weapons, let's move out!"

...

The Cave of Dreams was pitch-black, damp, and its dripping walls were covered in glowing bioluminescent mushrooms, casting an eerie, pale green light.

The four men, holding torches, walked with light steps and soon reached a totem pole deep within, next to which stood five druids assisting with the ritual.

Without a word, the druids used hand gestures to guide them to sit down before the totem pole, then placed a handful of pale green herbs and a bowl of steaming, milky-white medicinal broth in front of each of them.

Then, among the five druids, the one who was clearly the most venerable—with his head adorned with vibrant green branches—walked before them. "Brave warriors, feel honored! Participating in the trial of the Cave of Dreams is in itself proof of your courage. I am Malfurion, Elder of the Dream Druids..."

"Ahem, ahem-ahem." Victor coughed slightly, choked by the sheer familiarity of the druid's name, which was hard to forget.

Quickly recovering, he bowed to apologize to the interrupted elder.

Malfurion smiled, unfazed, and continued, "Before the trial begins, I must inform you that in your dreams you will face the deepest fears residing in your hearts.

Those things may be shameful, they may be intensely private, but they are all illusions—projections of your true inner thoughts.

Be strong enough, and you can overcome them; otherwise, your mind will shatter."

Having spoken, the druid scanned the four men to ensure they had heard clearly.

"If you understand the dangers and have no questions, consume the herbs, drink the broth, and the dream totem will guide you to the realm of nightmares."

The herbs before him were unfamiliar, and the ingredients of the medicinal broth were entirely unknown. For an alchemist, this scene was genuinely unsettling.

The youth asked softly, "I have a question. May I know what kind of herb this is? And what are the ingredients in this bowl of broth?"

The druid elder smiled. "The herb is Radman weed, and the broth is brewed from hemlock, cherry blossoms, tomatoes, and slender-fiber vines."

"Hiss!" The youth drew a sharp breath; damn it, these were all potent, aggressive concoctions.

After weighing his options and considering that the druids had been conducting these trials for so many years, they surely wouldn't brew something lethal...

He picked up the herbs, tossed them into his mouth, picked up the bowl, took a large gulp, and began to chewing and swallowing.

Seeing Victor start, Alan also grabbed the herbs and shoved them into his mouth. "Let's begin, Ulf, Gerlof, eat up and drink up, don't leave anything."

Malfurion, the elder of the Dream Druids, watched with a smile as they tucked in.

...

Floating, drifting, wandering—then a sudden jolt.

The four men seemed to still be sitting in the Cave of Dreams, facing the dream totem, except that the druids had suddenly vanished.

Gerlof asked, "Hey! I don't seem to feel anything. How about you, Ulf?"

"..." Ulf turned his head to look at Gerlof.

"You fool, you're asking a mute for his opinion! I reckon the medicine has already taken effect!" Alan laughed and scolded.

Carefully analyzing the sensations feedback from his body and reciting a string of prime numbers to confirm his mind remained clear, Victor couldn't help muttering to himself, "Incredible. Is this considered virtual reality? It even allows for a shared dreamscape..."

Alan stood up, stretched his limbs, and drew his steel sword. "Gentlemen, let's go. It's time to face our fears!"

Gerlof and Ulf raised their axe and hammer respectively, following closely behind with cautious steps.

Silently following the trio's footsteps, Victor brought up the rear, staring intently at his left hand. He wanted to run an experiment.

Taking a deep breath and driving his formidable mental power, he clearly saw his left hand rapidly covered in dragon scales from elbow to fingertips, before returning to normal at his mere thought.

Although a fake was ultimately a fake, to someone of immense mental fortitude—such as the youth—he was practically a "god" within this dreamscape.

Up ahead, Gerlof shouted, "Whoa! There's a baleen whale floating right in the air! So clear!"

Following the direction of his finger, sure enough, near the high ceiling of the wide cave, a large, glowing fish was swimming gracefully, its form vivid and lifelike. It appeared to be a manifestation of some magnificent fantasy harbored in the heart of one of the four men present.

"No, baleen whales aren't that big. That's a blue whale," Alan Lugos corrected, rubbing his chin.

Ulf: "..."

Gerlof muttered under his breath, "A blue whale... since when did a blue whale have such a short snout? I reckon you're the one who lost your mind from drinking that herbal broth!"

The experiment had been an overwhelming success. Having confirmed the current state of affairs, Victor set his mind at ease, quickening his pace to catch up with the arguing trio.

Even knowing that everything before him was an illusion, such magnificent and wondrous sights were still beautiful landscapes capable of being etched into one's soul; it would be a pity to miss them.