Path of Dragons 14 - Chapter 22 - Education

Elijah knelt, resting his hand on the black soil.  He could feel everything so keenly.  Nerthus had already laid an intricate foundation, using various subterranean vines to create a tangle of runes that he barely understood.  It was proof that, despite all the time he’d spent nurturing Treebie and terraforming Gorveth, he still had a long way to go before he reached the spryggent’s level.

In a way, that was comforting.  During many of those idle years on Druhmor, he’d imagined surpassing his friend’s abilities.  And there was an existential horror that came with that.  After all, Nerthus had always been the one with answers.  He’d been born – so to speak – with so much knowledge, and he was specialized in a way Elijah could only dream of.  If Elijah passed him by, then who would he turn to for advice?

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried about that.  Seeing the grove with fresh eyes told him that Nerthus had not spent the past few decades idle.  He’d grown, both in terms of his techniques and his overall power, reaching demi-god status within the past couple of years. 

And now that Elijah was back and the grove had grown that much more powerful, Nerthus’ strength would climb accordingly. 

In any case, Elijah knew he had a long way to go before he could even begin to rival his friend’s abilities, and that simple realization put a smile on his face. 

But Nerthus never could have done what he had.  The spryggent had said so himself, and without so much as a second’s hesitation. 

Elijah opened his eyes to see thirty wide-eyed children staring back at him.  “Life is the most precious thing in the multi-verse,” he said, using Nature’s Design to coax a small seed to sprout.  It grew rapidly, becoming a simple dandelion.  “As Druids, vitality is our most important tool.  With it, we can turn a barren desert into a rainforest.  An abyssal planet into a verdant garden.  But the ability to wield that tool comes with responsibility.  We must protect nature.  We must love it.  We must become one with it, all while maintaining that which makes us unique individuals.

“The path of a Druid is not an easy one.  Some people will call us weak.  They might think of us as glorified gardeners.  We take pride in the things they consider weakness.  And we will turn them into strengths,” Elijah explained as the dandelion plant grew even larger.  “That is what it means to be a Druid.  The ability to foster life.  To nurture it.  To become its guardian and caretaker.  And that’s why our enemies fear us.”

“Peace will always be preferable to fear, though,” cut in Nara.  “There is a place for violence.  I will not lie to you and say otherwise.  But it is not our purpose.”

“Nature is violent,” Elijah pointed out, pushing himself to his feet.  “It is unforgiving and territorial.  We mustn’t ignore that aspect of nature because it makes us uncomfortable.”

Elijah plucked the dandelion from the earth, then settled into a little girl’s hair.  She beamed up at him like he’d given her the most precious treasure she could imagine.  Perhaps he had, considering that every child there was on track to become a Druid.

“As you say,” Nara conceded, though her expression was tight.  “Children.  Run along with the other teachers.  Today, you will learn about the many types of fish surrounding the island.”

The kids all obeyed, following a handful of other adults toward the coast. 

“What’s wrong?” Elijah asked, watching Nara pace.  He’d obviously done something to anger her.  “I’m not going to bite your head off for –”

“They’re children, Elijah!” she exclaimed, wheeling on him.  She jabbed her finger into his chest.  “We are not teaching them how to be Warriors.  These children are all potential Druids.  Their attunements are –”

“Substantial.  I know.  I can feel them.”

“We must show them the wonders of life and –”

“Do you think they will never be attacked?” Elijah asked. 

“Of course not.  I know precisely how violent the world is.”

“Then you should understand that raising a bunch of pacifists is a good way to get people killed.”

“We have the Hartwood Sentries to protect us,” she pointed out.

“Relying on others to protect you is a good way to end up defenseless,” Elijah argued. 

“You disagree with our curriculum.”

“I do.”

“Perhaps if you hadn’t disappeared for thirty years, you could have told us this long ago!”

The words hit Elijah like a physical blow, and Nara looked horrified to have said them.  She immediately tried to apologize, but Elijah waved it away.  “You’re right,” he said.  “Not about the combat thing.  I still think it’s shortsighted and dangerous to avoid teaching them how to defend themselves.  But you are right about me.”

He sat on a nearby bench that had been grown, rather than assembled.  It was still alive, too.  Just like the various tree houses.

“I’ve left you here for thirty years.  No guidance.  No input.  Just you trying to run this grove to the best of your abilities,” Elijah went on.  “It wasn’t fair, but you responded far better than anyone had a right to expect.  Better than I deserved.  The grove is healthy.  Everyone’s happy.  You did a fantastic job, Nara.”

He sighed, looking up at the sky before continuing, “And here I am, coming in to argue with how you did it.  I have no right to stick my nose in it.  I don’t understand the culture here.  I didn’t ask your reasons.  And even if I disagree, I should have done so in private so I didn’t undermine your authority.  I’m sorry.”

Nara sat next to him, and for a little while, neither of them spoke.  Finally, she said, “Thank you.  I know this is difficult for you.  It is still your grove.  Without you…without you, none of this exists.  You have every right to control it.”

“Maybe.  But that’s not the sort of leader I want to be,” Elijah admitted.  “Unilaterally deciding things I don’t really understand? Sounds like disaster.”

It also sounded tedious in a way Elijah could barely stomach.  He could spend decades perfecting Treebie’s rune system or building trilithons, but managing people was something altogether different and wholly unappetizing. 

Elijah was self-aware enough to recognize that he wouldn’t remain in the grove.  Not for long, at least.  Spending years idling away sounded like a special kind of hell.  Despite everything that had happened, he still craved adventure.  He still wanted to explore.  He still needed to see things no one else ever got the chance to see.

Which meant that, even if he disagreed with Nara’s methods, she was still going to be the driving force behind the grove’s continued development. 

“We have the densest concentration of demi-gods in the world.  Attacking this grove would be the last mistake anyone ever made.”

Elijah shrugged.  “How about a compromise, then?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Combat training.  For everyone.  Whatever you’re doing with the others, the ones you expect to be fighters – give that training to everyone.  Even after they get their archetypes,” Elijah suggested.  “Don’t separate them like this, either.  I think that will limit available classes and archetypes.”

“That’s the point.”

Elijah ran his hand through his hair.  “I don’t like that kind of attitude.”

“A potential Druid is worth ten Warriors.  If someone has the capacity to become one, then it is incumbent upon us to lay the proper foundation to steer them in that direction.”

“I disagree.”

“This is how it has always been done.”

“On your world.”

“On every world.  Attunement is an indicator of success in any given archetype.  It only makes sense to train the young to embrace the roles dictated by their attunements.”

“Again, I disagree.  I think it’s better to expose children to as much as we can.  At least lay the groundwork for success, regardless of what archetype they choose,” Elijah said.  “Look at Miguel.  By your rationale, he would have been a Druid.”

Indeed, his attunement to nature was stronger than most. 

“That is different.”

“Not really,” Elijah said.  “He chose to be a Warrior because that was what he wanted.  Not because that was what he was taught to want.  And he’s successful because he’s been true to himself.  Happier, too.  Can you imagine him growing flowers?”

She shook her head.

“All I’m saying is that we should give kids choices.  Deciding for them is a good way to limit their potential.  And on top of that, it makes the non-combatants that much more vulnerable.”

“It…it is not the way things are done.”

“Maybe not.  But it should be.”

Elijah was well aware that his way had probably been tried before.  And maybe it wasn’t the most efficient method of educating children, but that wasn’t what he was going for.  He just found the notion of dictating children’s future based on aptitude to be a little dystopic for his tastes. 

Nara shook her head.  “I’m still not convinced, but I am willing to make some changes, if only because I agree that we should prepare the children for a harsh world.”

“That’s all I’m asking.  Just give it a shot,” Elijah advised.  “Maybe it works.  Maybe we just make a mess.  I don’t know.  But it seems like it’s worth trying.”

Nara made to leave, but Elijah stopped her, saying, “Don’t hesitate to tell me if you think I’m wrong, okay?  I’m not some monster who can’t take no for an answer.”

She gave him a tight smile, a nod, and agreed to do as he asked.  Elijah wasn’t certain she was telling the truth, but he couldn’t do anything about that.  Only time would serve to prove his point.

With that, Elijah finally took the time to visit his hot springs.  However, he was annoyed to find that it was in use.  In retrospect, he should have expected as much.  It was a valuable cultivation aid.  But it was still frustrating.

In the end, he decided not to disturb the people using it.  Instead, he simply wandered the island, eventually arriving at a familiar rock formation.  Despite the passage of time – nearly forty years – Elijah could still remember the first time he’d been attacked by one of the Voxx.  Back then, the creature had been terrifyingly strong, and he’d barely survived the encounter.

If he met the same creature now, things would end far differently.

In any case, he settled down on the boulder overhanging the small but deep inlet.  As he did so, he considered his future.  There were a lot of things he wanted to do.  First among them was the creation of a new staff.  The limb he’d taken from Treebie was currently leaning against the ancestral tree at the center of the grove.  There, it would marinate in the thick atmosphere until he was ready to start carving.

He also wanted to see the world.  To visit all the places he’d neglected due to various demands on his time.  To see old friends and meet new people that might cure his loneliness.

He didn’t want a rebound.  Not really.  But he was well aware of his own nature.  If he allowed himself to let loose, that was precisely where things would go. 

And maybe it would do him some good.

Finally, Elijah wanted to reacquaint himself with the grove.  He wanted to show the people there that he wasn’t some terrifying entity who could, with a glancing blow from his Mantle of Authority, end their existence. 

But maybe that was just part of his life now.  There was no way to escape the reality of the power discrepancy between him and normal people.  Most of them would never progress enough to reach the demi-god tier, and of those, even fewer would satisfy the requirements to evolve. 

And Elijah had no intention of stopping.

Sometime, probably sooner than later, he would focus on advancement.  There were multiple Primal Realms out there that he’d not conquered.  Plenty of towers, too.  He had fuel for his progression. 

When he reached the deity tier, he would become even more isolated.  The same was true of transcendence.  Getting to that point would be a long and difficult journey, but Elijah had never intended to stop before reaching the absolute pinnacle.  And from what he understood, the path didn’t stop there.  Even transcendents could progress, albeit in a different way.

The point was that for all that Elijah sometimes found being different to be frustrating, he knew it was an inescapable reality of his continued progression.  He would never be a normal person.  Adjusting to that fact probably should have been at the top of his list of things to do.

In any case, as he sat there on that rock, he couldn’t stop dwelling on it.