Dragonlord

Ep 163. Plead Your Case. (2)

Ep 163. Plead Your Case. (2)

With an exasperated sigh, the Reaper spread his arms, recapturing what had already been said.

“…Again, Vulka’s sworn an oath to the Twelve in exchange for his kin’s survival. The conditions were simple: the dragonkin were forbidden from involving themselves in worldly affairs, and they were to destroy the first lord’s heart for good – neither of which were fulfilled. Hence, the dragonkin’s survival should be voided as well.”

“Is that all?”

“…Yes?”

Felicir’s expression visibly twisted as he was questioned by the listening deity.

It could’ve been a mere customary question. But being questioned in of itself was not a practice that often occurred to Felicir – not in such an authoritative manner, anyways.

Not that his friend seemed to care.

“Very well.”

After a brief nod, Zenon briskly moved to another one of the Archive’s shelves to pluck out a book, this time filled with text from beginning to end. He leisurely sorted through the pages, scanning each line until his finger would halt beneath the line he wanted to find.

For a few seconds, his eyes reviewed each and every word on the page – records of what had gone on between the Reaper and the second dragonlord.

And most were, in fact, as Felicir had said.

“The second dragonlord – to whit, Vulka – has previously sworn an oath to the Twelve. Its conditions were unmet, and the oath, broken. From this point forward, the oath is destroyed, and neither party is bound by its conditions.”

“…”

Felicir’s expression began to loosen as the verdict was delivered. He remained silent as his friend continued, their eyes fixed on the book in their hand.

“With the oath no longer in effect, the dragonkin shall no longer be guaranteed of their survival by the Twelve. Furthermore, as the second dragonlord has failed to destroy the first lord’s heart…I hereby sentence Vulka to death.”

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And with that, Zenon closed the book in his hand.

As he raised it into the air, the book began to float away. As if it had a will of its own, it soon slotted itself back to whence it came.

But the divinity’s eyes remained fixed on the Reaper as he added his final comment.

“Though, as Vulka has already passed, the verdict loses half its meaning.”

With his loosened expression twisting once again, Felicir slashed the air with his arm, ridiculed by the deity’s pointless sentence.

“Wh…excuse me? What about the kin itself?”

“I just told you: neither party is bound by the oath from this point forward. The dragonkin are no longer guaranteed survival. You are free to seek them out and kill them of your own accord, as are they.”

“Rubbish! Are you saying the kin will receive no punishment whatsoever?!”

Once again, the Historian looked down on the protesting former deity with an air of indifference.

And once again he’d state the obvious – or at least, what was obvious to him.

“What exactly would the kin be punished for?”

“…What?”

“It was Vulka’s oath, not his kin’s. It was the second lord’s responsibility to control his brood, and the verdict has sentenced the responsible to death.”

“…So you’re saying there’s nothing wrong with the dragonkin’s existence? You know that’s not how it should be! The first dragonlord isn’t even supposed to be alive, she’s died with the rest of demonkind a thousand years ago – surely that’s an error you’d need to address!”

“A peculiar existence, I will admit. But Serenis’ existence is not an error.”

“…”

The Reaper’s eyes twitched in disbelief.

He couldn’t believe half of what he was hearing at this point – especially from someone who should have full knowledge of the dragonlord’s previous death.

Unfortunately, the deity before him was not finished.

“Though, on that note…Felicir. Your existence is an error that ought to be corrected.”

“…? What the hell are you on about now?”

Once again, Zenon briefly left his position to trace his fingers along the Archive’s shelves. He soon plucked one out, scanning its pages to find the appropriate record before returning to address the Reaper.

“Felicir. In the name of ‘resetting the star,’ you once killed nearly every life that walked this star to ensure the Twelve’s position as deities. In the century that followed, you’ve indiscriminately tortured and murdered the dragonkin to coerce their lord into a contract against their will.”

“…”

“Lastly, you’ve intentionally engineered ways to defy your own death, and you’ve forced other deities into assisting you in the process.”

“That’s all just- that was for our people’s sake! Look how mankind’s flourished under the Twelve’s guidance. And had the dragonkin not been caged in their own nest, we’d still be living beneath their feet in fear!”

“You speak as if the Twelve’s existence is somehow more valuable than the rest of mankind. They are not. Similarly, mankind are no more valuable than the dragonkin. The prosperity of one does not justify the condemnation of another.”

“…Seriously? You’re one of us. You do know that, right?”

“My background has no meaning in making a divine verdict.”

“…”

Despite the harshness of his methods, ultimately, the Reaper’s best interests had always lied in a flourishing world owned by mankind.

The other deities were often against his methods, but they were still in agreement of the premise: of making the world a better place to live in for their race. A world where they’d no longer have to live in fear of demons as slaves or prey.

But even in this simple premise, the Historian had been an exception.

‘…Almost as if he doesn’t care how things go down.’

A heavy frown crossed the Reaper as he grit his teeth in frustration.

Despite their indifferent attitude, he’d always thought that the Historian would have at least some care for his own kind and brethren. Even with everything aside, he’d thought that a fellow man would be valued more than that of a demonlord.

After a thousand years, this assumption was turning out to be false.

“Felicir. You’ve stolen a living monster’s body for your own gains, breaking the laws of nature and defying the cycle of life. Furthermore, you’ve used the stolen body to facilitate the death of 63 Asardans with full intent and malice.”

“…Are you seriously telling me that I’m a problem while the dragonlord isn’t? Are you not aware that she’s taken over someone’s body too?”

“She’s had explicit permission to do so. You, on the other hand, used force and coercion on all parties involved.”

“…”

“Is there anything you wish to say?”

“…I knew you were eccentric, but now I see that isn’t the case. You’re just completely mad.”

“A poor choice of defense from a former deity. Very well.”

Again, the book in Zenon’s hand closed with a loud thump. As the book floated out of his grasp, he waited in silence for the book to slot itself back into the shelf before proceeding.

“Former deity Felicir. You are hereby guilty of abusing your divinity and defying the laws that govern this star. From this point forward, you are no longer of the Twelve, and you are no longer entitled to existence. Your soul will be permanently voided upon its next death.”

Finally, the Reaper burst into laughter.

A maniacal cackle rang throughout the Archive as the former deity clasped his eyes with his hand, letting out an uncontrollable laughter.

A full minute had to pass before his laughter would die down, allowing him to speak once more.

“…Ha…haha. As if. Don’t pretend like your verdict means anything, Zenon; you won’t even bother to enforce it outside. Once I step out of the Archive, nothing you’ve said will even matter.”

“You’re absolutely correct. I bid you luck.”

When the Historian answered him ever so indifferently, Felicir’s eyes once again narrowed in confusion.

Of course, this time it didn’t take long for him to realize why the verdict had been so simple.

“…”

“…”

When the Reaper turned his head, he could still see the dragonlord standing firm – right between him and the gate they’d entered through.

But as if he couldn’t care less, the Historian returned to his previous duties, fetching his quill and paper to resume his writing.

“Do leave at your earliest convenience. I’d much rather be alone.”

“…You fucking bastard.”

“Felicir. You yourself discarded the trust of others who could have stood at your side.”

“…”

“If you’ve any dignity left, then you will receive your due punishment.”