Lament of the Slave

Chapter 91: A Bit of History

'You're not from around here, are you?' Mr. Sandoval wasn't the first to ask me this question. Not many did. Yet I've always dreaded it, or more precisely of the time, the truth of my origin comes out. Not everyone will see it as Deckard, who didn't give a fuck.

Racking my brain on how to tell him, the librarian beat me to it when he raised his hand to stop me. "You don't have to tell me. I'm just curious."

"I'm sorry." I blurted out immediately, choosing caution. When the old man raised an eyebrow, I realized I had been too hasty with my reaction.

However, his puzzlement quickly turned into a warm smile. "You have nothing to apologize for, miss. A lot of people are running away from their past, wanting to forget and start over." That wasn't my case, but I kept my mouth shut. "In my opinion, you're much braver than many of the heroes I've read about in books," he said what I understood was praise.

My ears made a strange confused motion while I lightly cocked my head. Me being brave? "What makes you think so?"

"You know you lack knowledge, knowledge that I think even a slave like you should know, hence my question earlier. But let's face it, nobody's perfect. Not me, not you. No offense meant, miss," added the librarian quickly, and I listened, unbothered by words that others would find cause to fight, wondering where he was going with it.

"A lot of the heroes I read about were too...most would think arrogant, I say cowardly. Whether they were commoners or noble blood, young or old, inexperienced or seasoned, they met their demise just because they were too weak to admit such shortcomings. You don't, you're trying to learn, and that makes you brave in my eyes."

Was I, uh, brave? Seriously? Could what I was doing even be called that? I was just trying to stay alive, learning how to do it. There was nothing brave about that. Or was I wrong?

Giving it some thought, I figured it was a matter of perspective. For example, the training with mossbears. The librarian would see it as bravery, Rayden a necessity for the safety of the city. For Sah, my interaction with them was a threat to the Empire's security, while Deckard saw it as an excellent opportunity for training.

"Brave or foolish," I muttered out loud without meaning to, chuckling.

Mr. Sandoval nodded, stroking his beard. "At times, it's hard to tell these two apart."

"He couldn't say either," I remarked, amused by the memory of Esulmor woods.

"Who? If I may ask?" inquired the librarian. "Esu?"

"No, my...mentor," I said, considering for a moment whether to give him the name. "Deckard. I don't know if you've heard of him." He had his library, no reason to care about the outside. What's more, if my memory serves me right, he didn't like seekers.

"Oh, young lady, I'm not the bookworm you think I am," he said without any malice in his voice. Rather, it amused and intrigued him. "Do I know who Deckard is? Without a question, the most famous solo seeker in Castiana."

Was he? Now that I think about it, everyone I met knew him or had heard of him.

"The man who first conquered the 100th floor of the labyrinth alone, who solo dived to the one hundred and thirty-second floor in the following years, just to stay stuck there. He has been looking for an apprentice ever since. Now you're telling me it's you?" he asked me in wonder, not giving me a chance to respond. "That's worth another mention in my chronicles."

"Yes, you can write it in," I said, seeing his pleading look. Sooner or later, me being Deckard's apprentice will be an open secret.

"Appreciate that, miss." He nodded, satisfaction gleaming from his eyes.