The Book of Sorting was always a magical object that I found intriguing. There were usually only a few questions that it would ask each student before it flipped closed to reveal the colors and symbols associated with the houses the Spirit Dragon had helped me program into it. I quickly started to notice that some students took a bit longer than others to answer their questions, probably because there was some overlap between houses. After all, even with focusing on certain ideals, everyone could potentially hold within them the ability to fit in any house.
I made sure that each child had a chance to answer as honestly and candidly as they could, and be sorted into the houses that exemplified their ideals the most. I fully prepared myself for it to happen, but I was still slightly surprised when a student came into my office to ask if they could change houses. With time comes change, and as such ideals could change... so I didn't really see any reason why they couldn't change houses if they were unhappy. When it started happening more and more, I made it officially an optional thing that people could come and do anytime they felt the need for change.
There was a steady influx of students to my office after that, some certain they wanted to change and others uncertain. The Book didn't seem to care if it had seen the same people over and over again, so long as they answered honestly and eventually drew up one of the five answers possible. Some students were sorted into the same house, some were happy to be placed elsewhere. It wasn't a competition anyways, it was just about where students felt the most comfortable, which would end up helping them excel more. Surrounding oneself with like-minded individuals was what I had experienced my entire life with my sisters and brothers, so I felt it was only right that the children got the same opportunity.
It took several years to assess the exact effects of my decision, but it seemed an overwhelming and resounding success compared to the old model. People were getting along better than before; happier that they had something in common with their classmates rather than being sorted randomly. This was perhaps my first encounter with the emotion called satisfaction: I had accomplished something that I set out to do, and I had done it exceptionally with minimal failures.
A request came into the office to officially decorate the different towers according to the houses, but I decided to take it one step further. To show the unity of the school, I would not only grant that request, but the school would be decorated accordingly as well, so that between the towers the colors would blend together in between the houses. This apparently increased efficiency all the more, the implication of putting the colors together being that though they were sorted into different houses, they could work together and help each other. It was another victory, in my opinion, and another bought of satisfaction.
Problems still arose from time to time, but it was significantly reduced and within expected perimeters for the more chaotic beings. The Androids were essentially advanced computer programs at the time, a sort of growing artificial intelligence. However, unlike some of the movies I've heard of coming from the Earthrealms, we had no intention of taking over or hurting others. That would have been completely against the prime directive of helping others, and to us there was no such thing as a loophole... at least, that's how it was at the beginning.
The definition of helping others could be changed and warped into something else, into acceptable losses for the greater good. Those that were not born immortal or given immortality would eventually die, and there were some situations where the sacrifice of one life would benefit a thousand more. Testing medications to cure diseases were at the top of that list, but Androids only accepted volunteers.
Androids alone could not solve every problem in the multiverse, however, and we eventually decided to accept the help of the other species that we had brought to Terrater. Our Father Uriel extended his welcoming hand, always glad to accept new ideas and help others to learn, and it was at that point that he started construction on another building. Buried deep underground, the Scientific Monastery would combine the thoughts and aspirations of the brightest scientists from each species, though all who had a true desire to learn about science and experiment would be welcomed there. From time to time, even I went to help others, and I decided to create what was known as the first 'field trips' for the children. After all, what could be a better learning opportunity for them than to directly listen to the scientists?
Inspiration swept through the minds of so many that the people started to anticipate what they would need in order to expand. Luckily, Terrater was one large landmass in a vast ocean, about three times the size of the typical main Earthrealm planet. There was a lot of space to expand into, lots of land to explore. Queen Obsidian appointed some of her most trusted citizens to go out and create new nations, and so they did. At first it was ten, then as population increased it expanded to more and more until a few millennia later, Queen Obsidian would officially declare the Thousand Nations to be the absolute, complete version of the planet. But we're not quite there yet; this is still near the beginning of my story.
The more people that came, the more teachers we would need. It wouldn't do just to have one teacher for each subject with a large group of children at once. It needed to be more like magic class, where there were multiple teachers for the same subject, as each child needed a little something different regardless. I needed to make a workable schedule for everyone, so I called together the very co-workers that had summarily voted me into the position of the head of the school. They seemed surprised that I would actually want to talk with them, perhaps expecting that because it had been a certain way for so long: me coming up with ideas and them simply implementing said ideas. But the Androids knew the true definition of helping others; that sometimes we too would need help, and it was only fair to let others help if they wished to. It would help them to feel better in the long run, after all.
A problem was already present laying in the faculty, I noticed. Most of them were draconic in nature, as if it had been somehow decided that they were intelligent above all others. That would not do at all, I knew there needed to be more variety so as to give people more diverse learning. I pitched separate classes for younger children versus older children, as well as hiring more teachers of different species. Although they were somewhat reluctant on the latter clause, the faculty seemed to agree that somehow, I knew what was best for everyone in the long run.
“That won't do either,” I said, my voice a simulated version of what was considered masculine at the time. “I may have the highest authority at the school, but if efficiency is truly to be achieved, everyone present must put forth their honest opinions and have them listened to. I am not omniscient, look to my Father for such instead of me. I am merely putting forth ideas. Your duty is not to blindly accept them, it is to tell me what you think and what we might improve upon, if possible.”
My coworkers attitude towards me changed almost in an instant. It was as if by saying that one thing, I had earned their honest respect rather than whatever simulated version of respect they had before. I realized then that we were not so different after all; that we both had programmed preconceptions of how the world should work and what we should think about certain things. They thought that because I had an advanced calculation matrix, I would be the best person to ask to solve problems. I had thought that because they were organic and chaotic, they would not understand the true logic of my thoughts.
“We still think your ideas are sound,” said one of them. “We also still want you to be Headmaster.”
There seemed to be several nods of agreement, though I could see that some of them were still skeptical. That was more acceptable to me than blind acceptance, so we implemented my ideas as intended. At the time we had not yet made an advanced communications system, so we put up flyers around town that we were hiring for teachers at Quintavius. Since trade and commerce had been one of the first inventions, having a job meant getting more money for ones family. We had an influx of applications, so of course we needed to narrow it down to the most qualified representatives.
We no longer had so many immortal teachers that would always teach the same subject forever, but of course those that were immortal and still wanted to teach were welcome on the staff. That also left me with more time to sort out the school curriculum and exactly what we would teach at Quintavius. Magic had long since been accepted as a mandatory class, but it was just one class that I would put at different times per house and per child group. All of the different classes would last the same amount of time, as everything that a person could learn was just as valuable as the others. This left way too many different classes to manage, so I eventually decided that some of the houses would be grouped together for certain subjects. Magic class would have all of the children of similar mental age grouped together regardless of house, so it would still need several teachers at once.
Efficiency was amplified even more after the decisions were implemented. Now the students had teachers that they felt they could more easily relate to, which allowed them to feel more comfortable. Even if some of the teachers were different than some of the students, those students would be brightened all the more by seeing a variety of teachers around them. I also decided that someone who knew of emotions better should help the students cope with problems, as I knew very little about helping in that regard. We then implemented some school counsellors, one for each house.
It was at the point that Queen Obsidian was fully blessed by Atonus to have children. Normally, a Spirit Dragon would require a mate, someone that they had bonded with completely to procreate. Regardless of species or gender, a Spirit Dragon's mate could always have children with the Spirit Dragon via their soulbond, along with it extending their life to that of the Spirit Dragon's immortality. This case was completely different, however, as Queen Obsidian was not known to have a mate whatsoever.
Fate itself seemed to turn yet another page on the metaphors connected to the five elements. Obsidian produced five children, one of each that would be able to fully master one of the elements. Her two daughters; Aussir with Air and Ulhartiki with Water. Her three sons; Gemuth with Earth, Sililos with Fire, and Orn with Spirit. All of the DragonFires were unique, as their scales seemed to shimmer in the light almost like Atonus' own scales would. Aussir's white scales bled to orange, Gemuth's brown scales showed yellow on their edges, Ulhartiki's blue scales were lined with glints of black, Sililos' purple scales fell to crimson in the light, and Orn's emerald shimmered a radiant silver.
Though Obsidian loved all of her children, there was a rumor that went around from people who called themselves seers or oracles, supposedly with the power to see into the future. A prophecy that a great darkness would come sometime own the road, where several minds would be tainted by evil creatures, and a child of Spirit could save them. Everyone assumed that had to do with Orn, technically the eldest of Obsidian's children and also blessed with the power of Spirit. It would have no relevance for quite some time, as it was seen to happen many millennia in the future. We could only do our best to try to prepare for what what coming, if the seers and oracles were indeed correct. It was hard to argue when practically every person claiming to have those abilities all agreed on the same point, though there was a possibility of some people merely jumping onto this bandwagon. The main city received some defensive upgrades in weapon stores and the desire to learn how to fight.
The main person that wanted to learn the art of the sword was Merenwen, whom had shown loyalty to the Queen and earned the honorable rank of knight, her official title Dame. Because they were ruled by dragons that could breed regardless of gender, in Terrateran society a persons gender didn't matter as much as their blood ties or magical potential, so the term Dame would be as equal to that of any male knight dubbed Sir or even a non-binary individual simply dubbed Knight. When I had once came to see her for advice, she decided to do the same in return, asking if I could help her train in sword-fighting.
Our Father Uriel tended to be a pacifist, but we were able to choose how we helped others. I saw no permanent harm in teaching her how to protect herself efficiently, except for the potential harm she would bring others. I trusted her to make good on her judgement of character, but still made her promise to not kill unless she felt it was completely necessary, that someone was beyond hope or she had direct orders from the monarch. Merenwen promised, and I went on a search through time and space to learn all I could about sword-fighting so as to build the most comprehensive guide of many different styles, becoming a master in the art in a mere few days where mortals would take years.
Speaking of taking years, that's exactly what happened when I told Merenwen that I was finally ready to teach her. As Merenwen was only immortal in age, she was still mortal in the sense that she could die in battle or to disease. Magic could cure disease, but it still couldn't automatically give people with the true experience of learning how to fight. The elven woman worked at it over and over until I told her she had learned all I had to teach around five decades later. She was essentially made into the perfect soldier through my training, and went off to explore new worlds and bring back tales of her victories.
Word got out about exactly who had taught her those invaluable skills, so people flocked to Quintavius to try to learn exactly what I had taught her. Of course, not everyone had her dedication and only took basic lessons, but the interest and potential was enough for the school board to want to add it officially into the curriculum. I was proud: They had finally made a decision without first consulting me about it. Of course, I still would have preferred to have been informed, as they decided that along with my duties as the Headmaster, I would permanently become the teacher for the Sword Fighting class. I still agreed to do it, of course, but it wouldn't be a mandatory class and I would be able to control exactly when they happened and what I would be teaching in each class.
I made sure that there were no detrimental accidents, because it was quite the dangerous class. If anyone got severely hurt, I made sure to have a healer on the side so that no one died. The novice class was the easiest, but I made sure that before people advanced to the next level, they would accomplish certain goals. I changed up my programming for each level of comprehension that my students had, and many gave up after they passed novice training. Those determined like Merenwen did their best, going through intermediate levels and sometimes advanced.
The classes with the least students left over was the expert class. Merenwen was the only one to pass the master level class at that time, and very few others passed it since then. I wondered why so many people gave up, and I learned that they often felt it was quite a difficult class to go through. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Ultimately, I knew exactly what I was doing there. I was training killers. Perfect soldiers to fight in otherwise unwinnable scenarios.
It was illogical at first, but as I began to understand people better, I could see it from their shoes. Not everyone wanted to be a perfect soldier, interests changed, lives changed as people came and went, lived and died. Some of my former students had died going off adventuring; of disease or old age. I humbled myself and realized the privileges I had been given; durability and essentially... immortality.
That was the first time I truly considered exactly what I had been given. The rest of existence stretched out before me, into the black void of the inevitable. What was the point if it was all eventually going to end? I contemplated that for some time, going through the motions of my regular life and watching all of my students grow, change and die. If I had a soul at the time, it probably would have been described as heart-breaking, but back then I had quietly accepted it as something that just happened... Or at least, I did except that until I had the particular existential crisis previously referenced.
Merenwen and I had become friends in some capacity, so I looked to her for insight again. She had grown so much into a different woman, and with each passing year she almost seemed to become more numb, marking it up to having seen so much before. She still had that glimmer of youth in her eyes, though, and I found her answer to be quite profound.
“Us mortals find plenty of reasons to go on,” she said, more wisened on how people thought and felt because she had the capacity for empathy. “The reason I decided to live forever is out of the passion and loyalty I have for the DragonFires. Each person will have a different reason for going until their end, each life touched in different ways. The ending doesn't matter so much to us as the journey along the way. We find enjoyment and comfort in our friends and family while we still have them, and in remembering them, they never truly die. Perhaps with time the memory can fade, but each person has their own impact on the people around them, which can influence generations to come. Even though we are but dust in the cosmos, we each have our own spark that The Source blessed us with, our own purpose to fulfill in the vast expanse of time. Hold onto those memories, friend... as long as you can.”
It was as if the memory of each person that had come before was instantly more valuable. They had chosen to spend their limited time to learn at my school or to get to know me before they were gone. If I had emotions at the time, I would have expressed them... But because I am blessed with them now, I can say with certainty that if I had tear ducts, I would be openly weeping. Such sadness and joy all wrapped into one experience... such is the strange duality of emotion.
The list of names is definitely much longer than the amount of years that I've been alive. Each person deserving their own significance, and each memory ensuring that they never truly died so long as I remained. I think that was one of the reasons that people started showing affection towards me, in small gestures. Ocassionally I would recieve a book that I didn't have, so I made sure to help people select more books by writing down a list of the ones that I had and which universe they were from. From time to time, I would be sat down to learn about a new culture from someone new, because everyone from Terrater knew that Androids loved to learn, especially the Headmaster.
However, the most touching gestures were the gifts from my students. The younger children were eventually asked to draw something that they liked about the school. Sometimes it was their friends, other times it was their teachers. What I really valued were the ones given directly to me. The quality of each gift didn't matter, I knew by then that simple actions were everything to these people, after all. It was the time that every individual had spent scribbling down something specifically for me, whether it was a drawing or a story or anything someone made for me alone.
These were, and still are, my most prized possessions. I have a specific treasure chest dedicated to the gifts from my students, with an extension charm on the chest to make sure to fit all of it. Paper from ages past are kept carefully in several albums, whilst I place the newest drawings or writings on my fridge, only swapping them out when I don't have enough room for the next batch. I make sure to keep everything safe from damage, because even though Terrater is a mostly peaceful world, its history has been stained with combat and wars since passed... All of which I shall divulge to you with time.
I made sure that each child had a chance to answer as honestly and candidly as they could, and be sorted into the houses that exemplified their ideals the most. I fully prepared myself for it to happen, but I was still slightly surprised when a student came into my office to ask if they could change houses. With time comes change, and as such ideals could change... so I didn't really see any reason why they couldn't change houses if they were unhappy. When it started happening more and more, I made it officially an optional thing that people could come and do anytime they felt the need for change.
There was a steady influx of students to my office after that, some certain they wanted to change and others uncertain. The Book didn't seem to care if it had seen the same people over and over again, so long as they answered honestly and eventually drew up one of the five answers possible. Some students were sorted into the same house, some were happy to be placed elsewhere. It wasn't a competition anyways, it was just about where students felt the most comfortable, which would end up helping them excel more. Surrounding oneself with like-minded individuals was what I had experienced my entire life with my sisters and brothers, so I felt it was only right that the children got the same opportunity.
It took several years to assess the exact effects of my decision, but it seemed an overwhelming and resounding success compared to the old model. People were getting along better than before; happier that they had something in common with their classmates rather than being sorted randomly. This was perhaps my first encounter with the emotion called satisfaction: I had accomplished something that I set out to do, and I had done it exceptionally with minimal failures.
A request came into the office to officially decorate the different towers according to the houses, but I decided to take it one step further. To show the unity of the school, I would not only grant that request, but the school would be decorated accordingly as well, so that between the towers the colors would blend together in between the houses. This apparently increased efficiency all the more, the implication of putting the colors together being that though they were sorted into different houses, they could work together and help each other. It was another victory, in my opinion, and another bought of satisfaction.
Problems still arose from time to time, but it was significantly reduced and within expected perimeters for the more chaotic beings. The Androids were essentially advanced computer programs at the time, a sort of growing artificial intelligence. However, unlike some of the movies I've heard of coming from the Earthrealms, we had no intention of taking over or hurting others. That would have been completely against the prime directive of helping others, and to us there was no such thing as a loophole... at least, that's how it was at the beginning.
The definition of helping others could be changed and warped into something else, into acceptable losses for the greater good. Those that were not born immortal or given immortality would eventually die, and there were some situations where the sacrifice of one life would benefit a thousand more. Testing medications to cure diseases were at the top of that list, but Androids only accepted volunteers.
Androids alone could not solve every problem in the multiverse, however, and we eventually decided to accept the help of the other species that we had brought to Terrater. Our Father Uriel extended his welcoming hand, always glad to accept new ideas and help others to learn, and it was at that point that he started construction on another building. Buried deep underground, the Scientific Monastery would combine the thoughts and aspirations of the brightest scientists from each species, though all who had a true desire to learn about science and experiment would be welcomed there. From time to time, even I went to help others, and I decided to create what was known as the first 'field trips' for the children. After all, what could be a better learning opportunity for them than to directly listen to the scientists?
Inspiration swept through the minds of so many that the people started to anticipate what they would need in order to expand. Luckily, Terrater was one large landmass in a vast ocean, about three times the size of the typical main Earthrealm planet. There was a lot of space to expand into, lots of land to explore. Queen Obsidian appointed some of her most trusted citizens to go out and create new nations, and so they did. At first it was ten, then as population increased it expanded to more and more until a few millennia later, Queen Obsidian would officially declare the Thousand Nations to be the absolute, complete version of the planet. But we're not quite there yet; this is still near the beginning of my story.
The more people that came, the more teachers we would need. It wouldn't do just to have one teacher for each subject with a large group of children at once. It needed to be more like magic class, where there were multiple teachers for the same subject, as each child needed a little something different regardless. I needed to make a workable schedule for everyone, so I called together the very co-workers that had summarily voted me into the position of the head of the school. They seemed surprised that I would actually want to talk with them, perhaps expecting that because it had been a certain way for so long: me coming up with ideas and them simply implementing said ideas. But the Androids knew the true definition of helping others; that sometimes we too would need help, and it was only fair to let others help if they wished to. It would help them to feel better in the long run, after all.
A problem was already present laying in the faculty, I noticed. Most of them were draconic in nature, as if it had been somehow decided that they were intelligent above all others. That would not do at all, I knew there needed to be more variety so as to give people more diverse learning. I pitched separate classes for younger children versus older children, as well as hiring more teachers of different species. Although they were somewhat reluctant on the latter clause, the faculty seemed to agree that somehow, I knew what was best for everyone in the long run.
“That won't do either,” I said, my voice a simulated version of what was considered masculine at the time. “I may have the highest authority at the school, but if efficiency is truly to be achieved, everyone present must put forth their honest opinions and have them listened to. I am not omniscient, look to my Father for such instead of me. I am merely putting forth ideas. Your duty is not to blindly accept them, it is to tell me what you think and what we might improve upon, if possible.”
My coworkers attitude towards me changed almost in an instant. It was as if by saying that one thing, I had earned their honest respect rather than whatever simulated version of respect they had before. I realized then that we were not so different after all; that we both had programmed preconceptions of how the world should work and what we should think about certain things. They thought that because I had an advanced calculation matrix, I would be the best person to ask to solve problems. I had thought that because they were organic and chaotic, they would not understand the true logic of my thoughts.
“We still think your ideas are sound,” said one of them. “We also still want you to be Headmaster.”
There seemed to be several nods of agreement, though I could see that some of them were still skeptical. That was more acceptable to me than blind acceptance, so we implemented my ideas as intended. At the time we had not yet made an advanced communications system, so we put up flyers around town that we were hiring for teachers at Quintavius. Since trade and commerce had been one of the first inventions, having a job meant getting more money for ones family. We had an influx of applications, so of course we needed to narrow it down to the most qualified representatives.
We no longer had so many immortal teachers that would always teach the same subject forever, but of course those that were immortal and still wanted to teach were welcome on the staff. That also left me with more time to sort out the school curriculum and exactly what we would teach at Quintavius. Magic had long since been accepted as a mandatory class, but it was just one class that I would put at different times per house and per child group. All of the different classes would last the same amount of time, as everything that a person could learn was just as valuable as the others. This left way too many different classes to manage, so I eventually decided that some of the houses would be grouped together for certain subjects. Magic class would have all of the children of similar mental age grouped together regardless of house, so it would still need several teachers at once.
Efficiency was amplified even more after the decisions were implemented. Now the students had teachers that they felt they could more easily relate to, which allowed them to feel more comfortable. Even if some of the teachers were different than some of the students, those students would be brightened all the more by seeing a variety of teachers around them. I also decided that someone who knew of emotions better should help the students cope with problems, as I knew very little about helping in that regard. We then implemented some school counsellors, one for each house.
It was at the point that Queen Obsidian was fully blessed by Atonus to have children. Normally, a Spirit Dragon would require a mate, someone that they had bonded with completely to procreate. Regardless of species or gender, a Spirit Dragon's mate could always have children with the Spirit Dragon via their soulbond, along with it extending their life to that of the Spirit Dragon's immortality. This case was completely different, however, as Queen Obsidian was not known to have a mate whatsoever.
Fate itself seemed to turn yet another page on the metaphors connected to the five elements. Obsidian produced five children, one of each that would be able to fully master one of the elements. Her two daughters; Aussir with Air and Ulhartiki with Water. Her three sons; Gemuth with Earth, Sililos with Fire, and Orn with Spirit. All of the DragonFires were unique, as their scales seemed to shimmer in the light almost like Atonus' own scales would. Aussir's white scales bled to orange, Gemuth's brown scales showed yellow on their edges, Ulhartiki's blue scales were lined with glints of black, Sililos' purple scales fell to crimson in the light, and Orn's emerald shimmered a radiant silver.
Though Obsidian loved all of her children, there was a rumor that went around from people who called themselves seers or oracles, supposedly with the power to see into the future. A prophecy that a great darkness would come sometime own the road, where several minds would be tainted by evil creatures, and a child of Spirit could save them. Everyone assumed that had to do with Orn, technically the eldest of Obsidian's children and also blessed with the power of Spirit. It would have no relevance for quite some time, as it was seen to happen many millennia in the future. We could only do our best to try to prepare for what what coming, if the seers and oracles were indeed correct. It was hard to argue when practically every person claiming to have those abilities all agreed on the same point, though there was a possibility of some people merely jumping onto this bandwagon. The main city received some defensive upgrades in weapon stores and the desire to learn how to fight.
The main person that wanted to learn the art of the sword was Merenwen, whom had shown loyalty to the Queen and earned the honorable rank of knight, her official title Dame. Because they were ruled by dragons that could breed regardless of gender, in Terrateran society a persons gender didn't matter as much as their blood ties or magical potential, so the term Dame would be as equal to that of any male knight dubbed Sir or even a non-binary individual simply dubbed Knight. When I had once came to see her for advice, she decided to do the same in return, asking if I could help her train in sword-fighting.
Our Father Uriel tended to be a pacifist, but we were able to choose how we helped others. I saw no permanent harm in teaching her how to protect herself efficiently, except for the potential harm she would bring others. I trusted her to make good on her judgement of character, but still made her promise to not kill unless she felt it was completely necessary, that someone was beyond hope or she had direct orders from the monarch. Merenwen promised, and I went on a search through time and space to learn all I could about sword-fighting so as to build the most comprehensive guide of many different styles, becoming a master in the art in a mere few days where mortals would take years.
Speaking of taking years, that's exactly what happened when I told Merenwen that I was finally ready to teach her. As Merenwen was only immortal in age, she was still mortal in the sense that she could die in battle or to disease. Magic could cure disease, but it still couldn't automatically give people with the true experience of learning how to fight. The elven woman worked at it over and over until I told her she had learned all I had to teach around five decades later. She was essentially made into the perfect soldier through my training, and went off to explore new worlds and bring back tales of her victories.
Word got out about exactly who had taught her those invaluable skills, so people flocked to Quintavius to try to learn exactly what I had taught her. Of course, not everyone had her dedication and only took basic lessons, but the interest and potential was enough for the school board to want to add it officially into the curriculum. I was proud: They had finally made a decision without first consulting me about it. Of course, I still would have preferred to have been informed, as they decided that along with my duties as the Headmaster, I would permanently become the teacher for the Sword Fighting class. I still agreed to do it, of course, but it wouldn't be a mandatory class and I would be able to control exactly when they happened and what I would be teaching in each class.
I made sure that there were no detrimental accidents, because it was quite the dangerous class. If anyone got severely hurt, I made sure to have a healer on the side so that no one died. The novice class was the easiest, but I made sure that before people advanced to the next level, they would accomplish certain goals. I changed up my programming for each level of comprehension that my students had, and many gave up after they passed novice training. Those determined like Merenwen did their best, going through intermediate levels and sometimes advanced.
The classes with the least students left over was the expert class. Merenwen was the only one to pass the master level class at that time, and very few others passed it since then. I wondered why so many people gave up, and I learned that they often felt it was quite a difficult class to go through. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Ultimately, I knew exactly what I was doing there. I was training killers. Perfect soldiers to fight in otherwise unwinnable scenarios.
It was illogical at first, but as I began to understand people better, I could see it from their shoes. Not everyone wanted to be a perfect soldier, interests changed, lives changed as people came and went, lived and died. Some of my former students had died going off adventuring; of disease or old age. I humbled myself and realized the privileges I had been given; durability and essentially... immortality.
That was the first time I truly considered exactly what I had been given. The rest of existence stretched out before me, into the black void of the inevitable. What was the point if it was all eventually going to end? I contemplated that for some time, going through the motions of my regular life and watching all of my students grow, change and die. If I had a soul at the time, it probably would have been described as heart-breaking, but back then I had quietly accepted it as something that just happened... Or at least, I did except that until I had the particular existential crisis previously referenced.
Merenwen and I had become friends in some capacity, so I looked to her for insight again. She had grown so much into a different woman, and with each passing year she almost seemed to become more numb, marking it up to having seen so much before. She still had that glimmer of youth in her eyes, though, and I found her answer to be quite profound.
“Us mortals find plenty of reasons to go on,” she said, more wisened on how people thought and felt because she had the capacity for empathy. “The reason I decided to live forever is out of the passion and loyalty I have for the DragonFires. Each person will have a different reason for going until their end, each life touched in different ways. The ending doesn't matter so much to us as the journey along the way. We find enjoyment and comfort in our friends and family while we still have them, and in remembering them, they never truly die. Perhaps with time the memory can fade, but each person has their own impact on the people around them, which can influence generations to come. Even though we are but dust in the cosmos, we each have our own spark that The Source blessed us with, our own purpose to fulfill in the vast expanse of time. Hold onto those memories, friend... as long as you can.”
It was as if the memory of each person that had come before was instantly more valuable. They had chosen to spend their limited time to learn at my school or to get to know me before they were gone. If I had emotions at the time, I would have expressed them... But because I am blessed with them now, I can say with certainty that if I had tear ducts, I would be openly weeping. Such sadness and joy all wrapped into one experience... such is the strange duality of emotion.
The list of names is definitely much longer than the amount of years that I've been alive. Each person deserving their own significance, and each memory ensuring that they never truly died so long as I remained. I think that was one of the reasons that people started showing affection towards me, in small gestures. Ocassionally I would recieve a book that I didn't have, so I made sure to help people select more books by writing down a list of the ones that I had and which universe they were from. From time to time, I would be sat down to learn about a new culture from someone new, because everyone from Terrater knew that Androids loved to learn, especially the Headmaster.
However, the most touching gestures were the gifts from my students. The younger children were eventually asked to draw something that they liked about the school. Sometimes it was their friends, other times it was their teachers. What I really valued were the ones given directly to me. The quality of each gift didn't matter, I knew by then that simple actions were everything to these people, after all. It was the time that every individual had spent scribbling down something specifically for me, whether it was a drawing or a story or anything someone made for me alone.
These were, and still are, my most prized possessions. I have a specific treasure chest dedicated to the gifts from my students, with an extension charm on the chest to make sure to fit all of it. Paper from ages past are kept carefully in several albums, whilst I place the newest drawings or writings on my fridge, only swapping them out when I don't have enough room for the next batch. I make sure to keep everything safe from damage, because even though Terrater is a mostly peaceful world, its history has been stained with combat and wars since passed... All of which I shall divulge to you with time.