Ash 1867
Bowing my head, I know lashing out at her like that was unfair. How often had I found my mother crying, assuming she was alone? Mourning the son, she was forbidden to see. Watching her children live in sadness and despair.
"Forgive me," I mutter. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"You're free to speak your mind with me," She cups my cheek. "Even if it's hard for me to hear."
Well, that didn't make me feel any better.
"You look like your grandfather when you scowl like that," My mother muses. A sad smile on her face. "Whenever my father felt guilty, he had that look."
"Truly?" I raise an eyebrow. Mother never spoke of her father. I think it was too painful for her to bring him up.
With a nod, My mother lets me go and gets a distant look in her eyes.
"A great warrior," she mumbles. "Led legions, and all of them loved him. Even though he was the strictest teacher, you could never get out of training unless you were injured, with child, or dead."
The way my mother speaks of him was so endearing that you almost forgot what she was saying.
"A loved tyrant?" I scowl.
"Not a tyrant," she shakes her head. "Strict, but he trained the best. Anyone who wished to be a warrior begged him to train them."
"Just dragons?"
"No, my father didn't care who or what you were. If you had the heart for it, then he trained you."
"I would've liked to have met him," I admit.
It sounded like I could've gotten along well with my grandfather.
"Halo, would you get me the box with the silver lock?" My mother tilts her head.
"Of course," Halona smiles and walks out of the cavern.
Not knowing what to say, I sit there staring at the cavern. Contrary to what humans believed, dragons don't enjoy living in damp caves with bats and feeding on virgins.
I wonder if the villages that fell for that line ever understood they were sending their daughters to be educated and, depending on the dragon, no longer virgins.
We enjoy being comfortable. A cave is excellent if you can fix it up and furnish it.
I've never understood the idea of dragons sleeping on their treasure. How did that work? Even in dragon form, it's not comfortable. I fell asleep on a bag of coins once. I woke up with a sharp pain where it dug into my scales that lasted hours.
"You want Nerva to accept you," My mother reasons quietly. "I'm afraid that isn't something he can do."
She was right, and I knew it, but it didn't make it easier to hear.
"What part of me is he most disappointed with?" I glance up at her. "The fact I want to be a soldier? That I don't hate other races as he does? Or the fact I enjoy the company of both genders?"
"You're intelligent, independent, and free-thinking," She sighs again. "That intimidates your father."
"But you'd think that would be a good thing," I lean back in the seat. "I mean, I want to be a general someday. That has its own privilege, doesn't it?"
"Nerva wants to control you," she strokes my hair. "He can't do that if you're out of his reach."
"Why?" I cover my face with my hand. "I'm not like Chakra or Wolfgang. I'm useless at politics."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," She smirks, and I don't have to look to see it. "You'd make an excellent lawyer."
My mother laughs at the look I give her.
"A lawyer?" I ask her incredulously. "Lovely, something more hated than a politician."
"I know you desire to be a soldier, Ashari," She shakes her head. "But you might need to compromise that desire for a while longer."
"Will you tell me I'm a babe as well?" I accuse. "Like father does?"
"No, I'm very aware you're not a babe," She pokes my nose. "I can't carry you in my arms anymore."
Do all mothers try to embarrass their sons?
"But seriously," She purses her lips. "You're still very young. A boy, enjoy your youth. Even for our kind, it flies away quickly."
"Let me guess. I'll be an adult at five hundred?"
"I'd say two."
If and when I had children, I wouldn't say things like that to them.
Our conversation ends when Halona returns, carrying a box I've never seen before.
"Open it," My mother commands, pointing to the lock.
"It needs a key," I frown, noticing that Halona didn't hand me one. "How do I open it?"
"You're the key," she places my hand over the lock. So my palm is over the keyhole.
"Ah," I wince, feeling a sharp sting on my palm.
Moving my hand away, I see that I'm bleeding.
What sort of key required a blood sacrifice?
The box had more room than it seemed, with several things inside it.
"Your grandfather's training manuals," My mother points three tomes out. "Every technique he learned over his life, he wrote into these books."
Reverently, I picked one up. It's old. I don't even recognize what sort of leather this is. It was at least a thousand years old.
I didn't recognize the paper either. It didn't feel like anything I knew. Not even papyrus.
It was thin but somehow resistant, made to last several lifetimes.
The writing was bold and confident, written in the common Entit'a language. So anyone could understand it.
My grandfather was a military genius!
He wrote about things no one would ever think to pursue. Not only methods of mass training but also different body types, skill levels, diets, and sleep cycles.
There were three books here, but that couldn't be all he had.
"Pages are missing from this one," I frown, mourning the loss.
"I'm afraid you can blame Shakka for that,' My mother scowls. "These were the three books my father was able to get back. The rest of his collection is under lock and key in Shakka's control."
"How many?" I'm afraid to ask.
"Twenty," She breathes. "Your grandfather wrote twenty-four of them."
Scowling at the math, I turn to look at her. My chest hurt at the thought of what the king stole.
"But then only twenty-three are accounted for," I reasoned, and she nodded. "Where's the last one?"
"I don't know," she purses her lips, glancing at Halona for a split second. "My father gave it to someone as a gift. I don't know if they still have it or if they'd admit to it."
"Who?" I sit up eagerly. "Maybe we could convince them to give it back?"
"I doubt it, polar bear," My mother shakes her head. "As you can imagine, these are priceless. No one would give them up."
She was right, I had three in my possession now, and I would never let anyone take them from me, even if I had to take them to the grave.
Now that the books were out of the box, I saw other things hidden beneath.
There's a ring of silver and gold intertwined with a black gem encrusted in the middle, a crest engraved on the stone's surface.
I see a knife gleaming up at me. It's small, but when I lift it out of the box, it expands by magic until it's a full-length sword. A beautiful thing my eyes can't stop examining. I'm pleased to find the weight is perfect. My hand wraps around the handle as if the smith had made it just for me.
The box contained two more items that caught my attention, a set of strange beads and an envelope. I could tell the beads were genuine gemstones, but someone had carved them.
The envelope had a seal on the back, the same symbol as the ring.
"Was my grandfather a dragon lord?" I scowl. It wasn't uncommon for dragons to have a family crest, but this one looked too intricate.
"No, he wasn't," why was my mother's voice so quiet? "Read the letter, Ashari. It's for you."
My frown deepens at her words. What did she mean?
Flipping the envelope around, I'm shocked to find my name written in the same bold script as the books.
"To my grandson, Ashari Atreanous, dragon king," I mutter the words to myself, nearly dropping the box in the process.