Oath and Kingdom [The Swordbreaker Archives]

Chapter 22: The Past Will Lie

Dryn looked excitedly down at Bol as they stood in line, waiting to receive their metals that showed their advancement in the university system.  Dryn to a scholar, and Bol to a Maester.
These amulets were made of pure silver. Each one marked with the level of advancement in the scholar society and their profession. The colors of the necklace ranged based on the achievements and goals.
Dryn's would be grey with purple and blue embroidery. Blue symbolizing alchemy and purple as magic.  Since he did not have a true focus, there was no third color.  Instead there were wave and feather patterns, indicating his intention to help discover the history of his people.
Each scholar's colors varied, none pursuing the same goals.
Still, Dryn was excited to be moving on with all of them.  To be able to discover more about the world, however differently than his colleagues.  They could share their discoveries, and even teach those who want to become scholars.
Dryn felt sudden dread as he realized his thoughts.  It was a privilege to become a scholar.  No Numen has been welcomed into society to this extent before.  He could only imagine what he would have become if Bol had not found him that day.
No one would have welcomed him.  If he was not killed the moment he was discovered, then Dryn would have starved to death.
Taking those thoughts into perspective, Dryn shook them away, knowing he should cherish every moment for that reason.  He was alive, and finally going to learn about his people.  He could not ask for more.
As they finished receiving their amulets, Dryn took a long needed breath.  It meant he could finally be free of being a burden to the entire citadel.  He was his own person, and though he would remain here, the other scholars were no longer charged with his safety.  He, alone would fend for himself.
Dryn immediately went back to his room afterwards, wanting to be alone for a while.  He already had his first project as a scholar laid across his desk.  Scrolls from the Asherah shipment.  The other translators thought they had little to no meaning, but Dryn understood otherwise.
Though he had not learned the entire Numen language, he knew most terms, and could figure out the rest.  It made it easier for him to translate over the others.  They still did not understand some of the terms.
Dryn felt closer to his kind the more he looked at the untranslatable works.  He learned so much more about his kind than he could ever have imagined throughout his childhood.  He found hidden meanings in many works that he did not notice before.
Dryn began a study of other ancient languages only a few weeks before, knowing his research would require a deeper knowledge.
He was amazed at how deeply connected the Numen were to the planet. They knew exactly when storms would hit Asherah long before it even happened.  They could sense the changes in the ground, and sense the shifting of land that brought Asherans from the north down to Asherah before it split from the continent. They knew it was safer there than it ever would be in the north, even when ice did not yet exist in their ancestral home.
Dryn sometimes felt that connection himself. He could sense an earthquake before it hit the mountains for the south. Sometimes it never did, but he would hear stories from travelers that experienced it.
He knew when it would rain, his skin would shift to a slightly darker color as it morphed into scale-like patterns, sleek to the touch.  It drew the rain off of his body before he could sense it's chilling touch.
Afterwards, whatever water remained was absorbed back into his skin to refresh him.
Bol and the others always had theories to why Numen could change their bodies based on their environment.  Dryn understood it as a defense mechanism when he was younger, but now he was not entirely sure. He could change his skin on command, however slight, even when unnecessary.
He did not need to change with the rain when he had clothes to keep him warm, so why would his body automatically react to a slight weather change?
Though he had his theories, no Numen book ever quelled the questions. He thought it may have been as a result of their powerful magic. Magic could get out of hand sometimes, and the body needed a way to protect themselves.  Numen were one of the first to understand Magic's entirety, and they understood the damage it could bring even to the wielder.
If he never discovered the book that would tell him, maybe he could make his own theories with a scientific experiment.
At least, it was an idea he could grasp.  However, it was not the time to try and explode himself.
Now was the time to study and discover what his people knew about the world.
Dryn heard a knock on the door.  Closing the Numen book on his desk, he turned to open the door.
Willoughby stood just on the other side, a smile across his face.  "Are you not going to join the festivities?"
Dryn sighed.  "I do not think so, Willoughby.  I wish to continue my studies."
His expression slackened, disappointed.  "Oh.  But we have our whole lives ahead of us.  I think we can relax for one day.  Enjoy some food and ale.  Even some wine.  I hear it is the best in Scalgoral."
Dryn pondered it for a while as Willoughby waited in his doorway.  He sighed, stepping back into his room to blow out the candle on his desk and heading out the door, Willoughby smiling with glee.
They entered the dining hall to a crowd of scholars and maesters, newly promoted, drunk or gorging themselves with food.  Their fellow scholars were there too, many who were close friends to those who found their new path in life that day.
Dryn sat with Willoughby and Bol, the three of them bad company among those who enjoy celebrations.  Bol offered Dryn some ale and drank from his own tankard.  Willoughby offered a plate heaping with food.  Some pastry delicacies, steaming piles of chicken with gravy and bread.
Dryn ate quietly as Bol conversed with some of the other maesters, congratulating them on their achievements.He spoke with one in particular Dryn remembered from his youth.  One of the lead translators of the Asheran histories.
He greeted Dryn with a bow of his head.  "Congratulations lad, what do you plan to study?"
"I plan to continue working on Numen lore and discover what my people were like."
"Seems like we will be learning together, then.  How do you feel about teaching the spoken language?"
Most of the humans of the citadel were scholars.  Many would not become maesters until late in their lives, simply due to their rapid aging, or many felt the need to discover the world and its fruitfulness.  Some felt the pull of war, seeking gratitude and honor.  Feeling they had a duty to the country as a soldier.
This translator was a sailor, who learned languages during his time, and eventually became a language master at the great college in the south.  He travelled here after hearing of a Numen survivor.  A child.
At least, that's what the others said.  Dryn never really thought to ask.
Dryn looked down at the tankard in his hands, still untouched.  "I am not sure I know the truth of it.  It has been years since I spoke it freely.  I feel it may be lost to time."
The master nodded.  "If I may, I would like to assist you in these studies.  Maybe I can be of some use.  The help of someone who knows many languages can be fruitful."
"I would appreciate it master." Dryn bowed his head.  "I wish to look into translating the remaining language before I start to decipher how it is spoken.  I feel many words would be lost without a full translation first."
He nodded.  "Very well.  Come see me when you feel you are ready."
The master, whose name still escaped Dryn, finished his conversation with Bol and disappeared into another crowd of celebrators.
Bol looked at Dryn in admiration.  "I suppose we could work together as well.  I am focusing on Numen history.  I am trying to create a timeline back to the beginning of their existence."
"Perhaps when more knowledge is retrieved from the library, we may be able to find just how long ago our history began.  At least, what was remembered." Dryn smiled at Bol, glad to have commonality with him again.
Bol was smaller than Dryn remembered, but perhaps it was the fact that Dryn had grown since he really looked at the goblin who raised him.  Only about four feet tall, he was the same height as a dwarf.  When they met, they were the same height.  Now, Dryn was much taller.
Willoughby seemed to be minding his own business, shoveling food into his mouth.
The feast lasted hours, many congratulating them on their achievements.  Very few approached Dryn, many still wary of him now that he was almost an adult.  A single Numen put them at risk, and the wars made everyone unsure of what to think of Dryn.  From what he could tell, the world outside of Haendar despised them, even in their near extinction.
Those who did approach him were always cautious, but never despised his kind like the others.  Like Bol, they found Numen fascinating, like a creature that had yet to be fully understood.
It still angered him, though, he wished they would treat him like a normal person.
When the festivities ended, it was well into the night.  Dryn felt the pull of his tired eyes, but his mind was still wild with the thoughts of his new projects.  He wished to continue reading and discovering more about his people, and the way they lived.  Even if it meant he would sleep very little.
Dryn opened the book again.  It was written elegantly, the lettering very clear and the wording showing some educational exception.  Upon further investigation, Dryn discovered the book appeared to be a detailed journal.
The front page listed a few dates, names and places.  None of the places existed on Asherah, they were all part of the northern mainland.
Many of the places were of Callmandonia, Dalmooré, and part of the new developing land, Eusterra.  The civil wars in Callmandonia created a breaking of lands.  These town names were still listed as Callmandonia, and even one Scalgoral territory.