Ep 102. Confessions of the Historian: Problem Child

Ep 102. Confessions of the Historian: Problem Child

Confessions of the Historian are non-continuous pseudo chapters that feature a timeframe far removed from the main story. They will not affect the main story’s update schedule, and will instead be uploaded at random intervals alongside them.

Ep 102. Confessions of the Historian: Problem Child

A problem child is defined not by themselves, but by the world around them.

When the child fails to meet the expectations of those around them, they are thereby regarded to be a defect, possessing a problem in one or more aspects. From birth, children are predicted of their future; the closeness they share to their predicted selves is what dictates how they are viewed.

An expectation to look a certain way; an expectation to learn certain things; an expectation to behave in certain ways. The areas are endless, and reasons likewise endless to regard a child as problematic.

...You were expected to fall, drowning in misery of your hopeless future. You were to become the lowest of your kind, forever to remain alone and behind.

Alas, you failed to meet this expectation.

And that was reason enough for others to regard you as a problem.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Xar. You took longer than I’d expected.”

“...My apologies.”

“Nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t too difficult here, anyhow.”

“...”

Xar emptily stared into the barren landscape stretching before them. The flourishing valleys had turned barren over a single night, the only saving grace the lack of discoloring on the soil they stood on.

And standing beside the Akeian commander was the empire’s only emperor, triumphantly holding up the prize he’d come for between his fingers. A small, golden jewel of the wooden ring reflected the dawning sunlight.

“...I take it you didn’t use true magic.”

“Why? So you could learn it?”

“...”

After a momentary pause, the emperor burst into laughter. Even though he couldn’t read Xar’s expression, it was easy enough to guess at what he was thinking at times.

“I kid. There was simply no need; the dragons weren’t as big an obstacle as I thought they’d be. Many were busy running away instead of fighting. And it wouldn’t do to destroy their invaluable remains.”

“...But then, the reason behind experimenting the dragonkin’s weakness was...”

“Amusing, wasn’t it?”

“...?”

After fitting the ring around his finger, the emperor turned to his commander, shrugging.

“I’m not very fond of them, Xar – dragons, elves, what have you. I could never get used to their undeserved, mighty attitude. Blindly believing themselves to be the superior race...and look where that got them.”

“...”

Amadeus Lavnore. An individual said to be the greatest mage to ever walk the star, but also to be the worst mage to ever be born.

After the birth of his empire, Lavnore became the first ruler to be of a mage background. However, the man possessed neither prudence nor grace: qualities that were thought to be a given amongst all wielders of magic. Due to the emperor’s unquestioned rule and incomparable strength, it didn’t take long until he was called a dictator, not just of his own empire, but of the continent itself.

“Hold, Bruton.”

The black dragon turned his head when he felt his friend grabbing his shoulder. They were shaking their head, pulling him back from taking off into the air.

“...It’s too late. You know it just as well as I do.”

“...”

Fresh blood spilt from Bruton’s bitten lips. Even though it’d been for the sake of protecting the fleeing children, he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling he’d just abandoned his comrades to save his own life.

“But...”

“It’s useless, my friend. Think how sad Aether will be when you’re not there to raise your newborn.”

“...Right...”

The black dragon let out a long sigh, turning around to return and join the others. But just as he did so, a cold, freezing breeze brushed past his wings from behind.

The black dragon immediately tensed, swinging his arm coated in flames. But where he’d expected an enemy to be, nothing was behind him.

Or, to be more specific...something was behind him. It was just too small for him to see immediately.

“...What was that? The wind just now, that was-”

“Bruton, beneath you...”

When the two elders lowered their gaze, a sleeping hatchling came to sight, her little tail coiled around her snout. She seemed to be whimpering, but neither could make out what she was saying in her sleep.

“Raizel? How is she still...?”

“L, let us make haste! We can’t afford to keep a child out here.”

“...R, right.”

Bruton held the steel dragon in his arms, taking flight to return to where the remaining kin were. Though he didn’t know how she’d been able to appear behind him so suddenly, keeping the remaining children safe was their first and foremost concern.

And when he held her close, the old dragon could finally make out the hatchling’s words.

“...I’m sorry. I won’t go out alone again...”

“...”

“...Don’t leave...”

✧ ✧ ✧

Perhaps it was the very sympathy that bound you to the dead. Despite your iron will to move forward, others bound you to your loss, wishing you would sink beneath their feet.

...

A small recognition. A token of kindness. That was all that was needed to relieve you of your pains.

So turn away, and never look back.

Nothing lasts but my own will. And so, you must leave them behind.

You cannot take them with you.