Dragonlord

Ep 162. Plead Your Case. (1)

Ep 162. Plead Your Case. (1)

“…I take it you’re the Historian, then.”

“I am.”

Serenis quietly masked her forlorn gaze beneath her palm. She wasn’t sure what expression she was even making at this point, and she had no mind to find out.

‘A thousand years…an entire millennium has passed.’

The First no longer remained to safeguard his realm.

Instead, it was a man of clear human origin – the black of the Historian’s hair was in stark contrast to the lifeless hue of the First’s. Unlike the previous keeper who’d hardly worn anything besides taintless white robes, the deity’s attire was darker, decorated with gold-colored seams and belts. It wasn’t surprising that the change in ownership would lead to a change in their residence.

Despite the heaviness welling within, Serenis duly accepted the change. She was even glad that the realm was no longer the bloody mess she’d seen it to be last.

And still, the dragonlord’s eyes helplessly wandered against her will, searching for even the slightest remains of what once had been.

Noting the behavior once more – quite literally this time, with quill and paper – the Historian called out to the dazed dragon before him.

“It was not us who snuffed this realm of your brethren’s remains.”

“…”

At first, Serenis had thought the deity’s colorless voice distasteful; foul, even. She’d considered the Historian as just another obstacle that she’d have to remove to reach the Reaper.

But now, the same voice sounded more soothing than anything.

Her wandering eyes once again found the speaker as the dragonlord gave her response.

“If…you know what’s become of them, then…”

As much as she wished to know the answer, Serenis couldn’t help but feel reluctant to wish anything of the Historian; despite his rather cooperative demeanor, the Reaper standing at his side suggested otherwise.

But as if reading into the dragonlord’s mind, the deity began to respond before Serenis’ question was even completed.

“There were no survivors that day. Not the divine, nor demons.”

“…”

“As for their remains, it-“

The Historian’s answer was abruptly silenced when the Reaper suddenly held their shoulder in an iron grip, jerking them back towards himself with a menacing glare.

“Zenon. What do you think you’re doing? She’s our enemy.”

“…I don’t recall making an enemy of Serenis.”

“What?...Do you not know what her goal is? You’re of the Twelve yourself.”

“Following that logic, Aldrid is of the Twelve. I don’t believe Serenis considers her an enemy.”

“…”

“Unlike you.”

For the first time in a long while, the Reaper’s lips were sealed – not by force, but by words.

Shaking his head, the Historian turned to face Serenis once more.

“Furthermore, I am the Historian. In that sense, it’s my duty to answer those who seek history.”

The Reaper scoffed at his friend’s answers – sensible answers perhaps, but nonetheless ridiculous in his ears.

“…Hah. Are you serious? Can you not see what’s become of me?”

“I can. You remind me of a raven.”

“I’ve died! Your precious guest has killed death itself! Do you know how many divinities she’s destroyed?!”

“…Mana, space, death, emotion, force…and I suppose star, which she’s absorbed herself. That makes six in total.”

“You know and you still-“

“But what of it?”

The Historian’s unexpected question cleanly cut off the Reaper’s outburst.

With his anger slowly turning to bewilderment, a confused, empty laughter began to slip out of Felicir.

“…Zenon. Do you not understand how dire the situation is? The demon standing before us is here to kill us both, not chitchat and dally with your dusty tomes.”

“You speak as if destroying six pieces of stone is some carnal sin. As I recall, those of us who did no harm still remain alive.”

After his last remark, the Historian stole another brief glance towards his guests – this time at Aymeia in specific.

“In fact, one remains alive even after doing harm.”

With that, the Reaper audibly slapped his own head.

Having his annoyance growing over its limit, his head was actively starting to ache; he would’ve had an easier time conversing with a wall.

“…I see you haven’t changed one bit, Zenon. You know what? Fine. You clearly have no intention of acting as one of us, so let’s approach this in a different manner.”

This time, the Reaper opened his balled fist, revealing a wriggling spider within.

“Centuries ago, Vulka has made an oath to the Twelve: to disallow the dragonkin from involving themselves in any and all worldly affairs outside of their nest, as well as to destroy their first lord’s heart. This you know already.”

“I do. But as matters stand, Serenis is not fully of the dragonkin at the moment.”

“…And that’s exactly why I brought this runt. See for yourself – the first lord’s heart plainly remained, and the dragonkin are once again involving themselves in our affairs. The dragon that this spider was before? She alone killed at least dozens of humans outside the dragonkin’s nest.”

“Hm.”

“It’s not just the dragonlord; the entire kin’s broken an ancient oath. As divinities, we should be delivering appropriate punishment.”

When Felicir’s argument finished, the Historian slowly nodded his head. The argument itself was certainly making a lot more sense than the Reaper’s earlier protests.

Following suit, he raised two fingers at his ally.

“…Two questions.”

“Questions? What?”

“First, I am not the Judge. Why exactly are you telling me all this?”

“THAT’S your question? Hathelon’s dead – killed by your precious guest over there!”

“So? I still don’t see how that’s a reason for me to replace Hathelon as the Judge.”

“…Well, you just happened to be the closest one available of us, so…”

“Closest available, you say? Not because I’m the only one remaining who could oppose Serenis?”

“…No. That’s mere coincidence.”

“…”

Although the Historian showed no visible change in expression, Serenis could swear his eyes were betraying a hint of contempt as he continued.

Light and Aymeia also stared at them in a daze, before the half finally leaned in to whisper into Aymeia’s ears.

“Hey…is this normal for you guys? All the arguing and stuff?”

“…No…? The Historian’s never been around, but the rest of us, we usually just…did whatever Felicir suggested…”

“…Oh.”

Sighing, the peculiar deity folded one of the two raised fingers as he continued.

“Is that so? Then, second question.”

And this time, he stepped closer to the Reaper, emotionless eyes staring into the Reaper’s eerie blue.

“I am the Historian – and this is the Archive, where the entirety of Nerion’s past remains recorded.”

“…So what?”

“Do you truly think that I, of all people, remained unaware that Vulka’s oath was broken?”

Once again, the Reaper’s expression grew twisted in anger.

“…You remained silent…all the while knowing what was going on?”

“Precisely.”

Satisfied, the Historian stepped away from Felicir to regain their original distance.

“I have no interest in participating in Nerion’s affairs. This I’ve told you, time and again.”

“…How long are you planning to keep up that attitude? Look at what the Twelve’s become! Half of us are gone already – don’t you think it’s about time you have some care about what goes on in the world?!”

“Hm.”

Zenon turned his head to face Serenis once more.

Again, his expression was devoid of emotions – but Serenis could swear his eyes seemed amused.

“And so I am told, Serenis. Thoughts?”

“…Do as you wish. As long as you remain a deity, we’re bound to confront each other anyhow.”

“As I wish?...If only I’d heard that sooner.”

This time, the Historian’s lips did curve into a visible smile. Though it would fade away as he turned back to face Felicir, Serenis definitely caught the deity’s emotions showing on surface.

“Very well, Reaper. From hereon, I will proceed not as the Historian, but as Nerion’s divinity.”

“As if there’s a difference…”

Despite his friend’s grumbling, Zenon showed no visible response to the Reaper’s attitude.

Instead, he put aside his quill and papers, replacing them for an empty book out of the Archive’s shelves. His emotionless eyes grew even more stern than before as he seemed to stare down into the Reaper’s soul.

“You stand before the divine. Plead your case.”

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