Shensel of the Dragon’s Wisdom

“Sing to me of a time long past. An age when men are kings, and beasts are gods. Where steel ruled men, and fire commands steel. Sing to me of the Age of Dragonlords.”

Different people had different ways of describing Shensel I Arquis. Her brother, Delion, shivered every time her name was brought up. The castlekeepers only allowed themselves an exhausted sigh at the mention of her. Guards would often be found out of breath during one of her games. This was why her attendants all prided themselves as the most patient of the Arqidun Empire.

“Are we there yet?” An innocent question from the toddler. At least, what Chief Attendant Hessinee considered to be a toddler as she gently pulled the child down from the carriage window. Inside a carriage, where space is scarce and rides are bumpy, Shensel didn’t seem to find it an issue if she kept excitedly jumping around, hopping over Hessinee’s legs and rolling around the cushioned seats.

“Princess, the journey to Mellith is still far. We will make a short stop at the village of Thynsdaron to replenish and rest,” Hessinee smiled, eyes shut tight. A method passed on by the tutors of the princess, to prevent high blood pressure and extreme stress.

A princess who should technically be a child, rather than a toddler. But ever since the reigning emperor Empress Preusva the First changed the calendar to 24 months in a year, this supposed six-year old was still technically half her age. Hessinee tried her best not to think about the complications and consequences. It was already awkward enough that she accidentally celebrated her husband’s birthday twice, forgetting that it should now be only once. At least, she thought with some satisfaction, I can say that I’m still a youthful rose in my springtime. The carriage rumbled to a stop, but not before Shensel barged out the doors, leaping off with her dress and breaking into a run.

Hessinee kept silent, eyes unopened. Yeah, this is normal, she thought. Five out of five times, the young princess repeated the same action at their stops. Five out of five times, there would be screams of surprise, shock, or fear. Four out of five times, the princess would be caught by the coachman. The one time she didn’t was because the Emperor had caught her first.

Yet there was no scream. No thuds of dropped rice bags. No alarmed cries from the farm animals. Nobody in shock. Rather, it was the voice of the coachman that brought her back into the light of day.

“What,” she growled, foot tapping on the carpeted floor.

“The princess.”

“Yes?”

“She disappeared.” His voice was quavering.

“How so?”

If a glance could kill, then the coachman certainly looked like a victim. He pulled on his collar, eyes gazing toward the direction of the forest.

At that point, Hessinee saw her world shatter.

Shensel pulled herself up onto a thick root, huffing heavily. The little blur of white she saw disappeared right as she got off the carriage. She chased after it with all her might, as much as her little legs can go, for no animal or plant in the land of Monroustir will ever escape her!

That should be the case, she thought, but this tree towering over her had different ideas. With thick roots drilling into the ground, snaking outwards around the forest floor, it would be a crime if the future adventurer Shensel I Arquis did not take the time to start capturing its magnificence. She excitedly pulled out a small sketchbook kept in her backpack, a request she had to scream, cry, and roll around the floor for, and pulled out the charcoal pencil holding her tawny hair together. She plopped on top of the root, breaking the silence of the forest with the rough scribbling of a child ready to take on the world.

An adult would look over her little drawing and call it cute. Shensel believed it was a masterpiece. Leaves detailed with lovingly crafted lines. The tree trunk highlighted with many scratches to show its thickness. The spreading of the roots drawn like the waves from the Sea of Orin. Oops, she thought, I should also put my self-portrait. Big eyes, with a poofy dress and the cute leather boots she wore.

“I wish I’d brought my colouring set,” she said, frowning at the lack of colour.

With the first subject of her analysis complete, there was naught left to do but keep moving forward. The great Shensel’s debut encyclopaedia of Monroustir would start with this forest, she thought, a grin plastered all over her rosy cheeks. The scribbling of her charcoal pencil didn’t stop either.

The elusive black fur deer, the sought-after spotted toadstool, the massive red-crested hawk, and the threatening cottontailed rattler all found themselves in her sketchbook, drawn to her idea of perfection. “And that frigatebird had a giant sac on its neck,” she mused, her sketchbook gradually filling up, before something zoomed past her face.

“Hey, wait!” A white blur, the same one she saw in the village of Thynsdaron, teasing her. Pouting, the princess packed up her sketchbook, tying her hair back with the pencil before breaking into a run. Or, for what adults would call it, an adorable display of athleticism.

The canopy, while thick, had enough light to illuminate Shensel’s path. She awkwardly hopped over low roots, crawled under the rotting logs, and splashed around a small stream. The white blur finally disappeared, though Shensel, panting heavily, could only fall on her back. But there was no canopy. She shielded her eyes as the sun dazzled her with its rays. With her sight returning, a realisation had finally dawned upon her.

She was lost. No Hessinee to stop her from running. No carriage to take her home. No mom and dad to scold her. Just her, this rocky field around her, and the giant mouth of a cave. But, resting by the singular root of a giant tree, snaking into the field just in front of the cave was her quarry: a miniscule creature, with pale feathers and a head that seemed to twist towards all directions. Its red eyes kept a menacing stare over the empty surrounding.

No man would venture any deeper. After all, starvation and the elements would simply take him if he were to do something so stupid. Who knows what that cave holds? What if some mighty creature were to stumble across him? Or the wolves that hunt in these woods? Maybe a bear, hungry from searching all day for a meal.

But Shensel was no man. Nor was she a woman, really. She was a child. With the swagger, reckless bravery and confidence only a toddler could possess, she tiptoed her way near the mouth of the cave, being careful not to slip on the smooth rocks flooding the ground. Bullets of sweat dripped, her breathing neared a stop, and her body hunched forward. Every step felt like an eternity as the white creature stared at the abyss in the cave.

“Yah!”

With a great jump, Shensel stretched a chubby hand at the creature, forgetting that rocks were under her. But before her fingers could even brush its wings, the creature turned back into a blur as it disappeared into the forest. Shensel landed with a great thump, clutching her stomach. A particularly nasty stone jutted out of the ground, small and curved, bruising her stomach.

Shensel wanted to cry. Her entire body was begging her tears to start running. Her mouth wanted to release the loudest cry ever heard to man. Both hands were clutching where the evil rock had poked her at. But she knew that adventurers don’t cry. The stories said so. They only smile whenever they’re hurt, and say that nothing can beat them.

Amidst the choked sobs, Shensel didn’t even notice the looming shadow over her.

“You.”

No response.

“Little girl.”

Only muffled sobs.

“Answer when you are spoken to,” it growled, drawing closer and closer to the body curled up. Shensel, eyes shut tight, slowly peeled open, staring back at a pool of citrine, with a cut of deep black in the centre of it all. She responded much like how an unruly child would when faced with a curious thing they’ve never seen before:

Shensel, finally letting her tears drip down her cheeks, reached out slowly, an outstretched palm inching ever closer…

… before poking it with her finger.

The creature flopped backwards, whimpering in pain. Blurry sight aside, Shensel herself slowly arose, still clutching her stomach. The creature wasn’t as large as she thought. It wasn’t a bear; those have small, beady eyes, like the marbles she pranked Delion with once in the castle. It wasn’t a bird’s eyes either, since that red-crested hawk didn’t look as intimidating as whatever this creature was.

As Shensel approached, she marvelled at the sight of its skin. Shimmering under the slowly falling sun, it glistened like a rainbow and glowed like fireflies. Its head, slender and triangular, had two horns that branched out like the twigs of the trees she passed by. With a mouth lined with knife-like teeth and short, powerful limbs, the creature only reminded Shensel of one thing.

“A giant lizard!”

If someone were to think of a dragon, it would normally be the terror that was described in the Legends of Monroustir. Enormous, imposing, with wing beats that topple towers and claws to rend stone and steel asunder. A wondrous breath attack, be it fire or ice, toxic gas or blasts of lightning, that destroys kingdoms and bends the knee of any ruler. Scales impenetrable to all but the strongest weapons, and a wisdom unmatched by even the most learned of sages and hermits.

Nobody would think that a dragon would be sulking after being poked in the eye by what was effectively a three-year old. Curled up by the mouth of the cave, Shensel was trying her very best to shake the dragon off its little sulking.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Dragon, I didn’t think you’d get hurt from a little poke.”

At this point, Shensel could see its pointed ears slowly billow out smoke. She giggled. A soft giggle, but enough for the dragon’s ears to twitch.

“What is it that you find so amusing, child?”

“You, Mr. Dragon. You’re like a moving chimney!”

A dragon is a creature blessed with great wisdom and understanding of life. One might say that meeting a dragon willing to converse with you is akin to learning the secrets of life and immortality. But, as Shensel soon realised, wisdom does not equal maturity.

“Child, I will tear you limb from limb and feast upon your heart over the baleful moonlight.”

“I’m not a child. I’m Shensel,” she said, hands on her hips, with the proudest smile she could muster. It didn’t help that she was doing so with an upturned face. The dragon rolled its eyes, stretching its limbs around the entrance.

“I too am no mere dragon. I am Aikondites, the Earth Shaker. Hear my name and tremble before my great power, child.” The trees shook, birds took to the skies, and the ground beneath them rumbled in anticipation. Shensel’s whole body shook as she dropped to her knees, hands holding on to the nearest boulder she could find.

The dragon rose to its stocky hind legs, leering at the child. “Now do you see my greatness?”

As the shaking stopped, Shensel stood back up with wobbly knees. With an innocent finger, she pointed towards Aikondites. “Then why are you so small?”

Silence once again blanketed the forest. Not a cry from a bird, or the rustling of leaves from a passing gale. Instead, Shensel’s gaze was focused on Aikondites, whose height, even with his horns included, only reached up to her mother’s height. And even she, Preusva I Arquis, though a mighty warrior who earned her moniker of “Mother of War,” was barely taller than a thoroughbred horse.

“Shensel.”

“Yes, Mr. Aikondites?”

The dragon breathed deeply. Eyes shut, it had the same scrunched up expression Hessinee would have when Shensel was particularly troublesome on a sunny afternoon. “Are you aware that your impertinence knows no bounds?”

“Mr. Aikondites, I’m only three. I don’t know difficult words like empertinens.”

Another bout of silence.

“Shensel. The sun is starting to set. Please return home, and never come back.”

As if knowing her next move, Aikondites turned to return to his cave, his tail gently pushing back the young princess. Of course, Aikondites also knew that she would force her way through his tail.

“Mom said that if I’m lost, I should find a warm place to stay and hide in.”

“I humbly refuse. I am a dragon. I cannot simply share my abode with a human, much less a child.” He sneered the last words at Shensel, though she didn’t seem to mind. If anything, her eyes kept sparkling whenever she caught Aikondites’ gaze.

“Mr. Aikondites, what else can you do?”

Seated very comfortably atop a flat-faced rock, forgetting her earlier ordeal with the evil rock, Shensel watched with great anticipation as Aikondites spat out a little ember upon a bundle of twigs, igniting it instantly. As the cave’s insides slowly came into view, Shensel’s book and pencil also came into view, as she began furiously scribbling on top of the paper.

The cave, as a child would describe it, was “filled with rocks.” But to Aikondites, it had deep crenulations of iron veins along the walls, with stalactites and stalagmites the size of buildings, forming a jaw of some sort within the cave. Wide swaths of barely luminescent moss lined much of the walls, while the ground was bumpy, with many unforeseen drops that could break an inattentive traveller’s leg. Aikondites coiled around a particularly thin, smooth stalagmite, right in front of both fire and Shensel.

“As you can see, my body is long enough to coil around a stalagmite such as this. Every dragon was created from the power of lord Hanluen, god of the swamp, sea, and land. Lord Hanluen grew up with snakes, so in my creation, he gave me the body of a snake.”

Nodding, she scribbled down some words, including a poorly spelled “stalakmite” and a crude drawing of what she thought was Hanluen.

“Does that answer your question, young Shensel?”

“No,” she said flatly. “Dragons are supposed to have biiiiig wings,” she said, waving her own arms as if they were any larger than a loaf of bread. Aikondites snickered, before a gust of wind blew Shensel on her back. She squealed, sitting back upright, only to notice two great wings beating together in unison. As if to contrast Aikondites’ rainbow scales, the webbing of each wing was a dull green that matched the tree canopy from the bottom, where long, multi-coloured appendages are attached to each sheet of webbing.

“Wow, you’re amazing!”

“Ah, you finally understand the glory of us dragons,” he smiled. The questions, however, never ceased. It felt like hours passed by as Shensel, spurred on by genuine curiosity, continued to ask, question, and inquire. Aikondites, despite his initial irritation, answered them readily.

“I must ask, young Shensel,” Aikondites said, curling up by Shensel, “why are you writing everything down with such passion?”

“Because I have a dream,” she answered, shooting up from her seat. With a finger pointed into the darkness of the cave, she declared, “that I will be the greatest adventurer in Monroustir!”

“So what does writing have to do with this?”

“Well,” she said, plopping back cross-legged on the rock, “mother said that writing down these things will help me learn. When I become big like you and mother, I can write stories about all I did and see.”

Aikondites could feel the corner of his mouth twitch. Such a pure soul, one untainted by reality and the truth of the world. Though, in Aikondites’ mind, he already knew of her mother. And the sins their empire bore.

“By the way Mr. Aikondites, why is your skin glowing?”

“This is not just skin, Shensel. The scales of a dragon are tougher than any plate of steel, lighter than the feathers of an owl, and more valuable than the lives of many who tried to claim it.”

“Oh. So that means you’ve killed people.”

Aikondites growled. Shensel peeked from behind the pencil with an eye, before resuming her sketch. Maybe this girl wasn’t the beacon he thought she was.

“I… would not expect a child such as yourself to be composed about death.”

She shrugged, never taking her eyes off the book. “Mother is an Empress. She says that death is normal. She even killed Auntie Shatui. Mother really loved her.”

“Shatui… Elysard?” The dragon murmured, in some disbelief.

“Yeah. You know auntie Shatui?”

“Dragons keep watch over the continent in secrecy. We do not meddle in human affairs much like how humans leave us in peace.”

Despite those words, Aikondites had no positive memories when he watched the War of the Shifting Sands. Shatui Elysard was the rightful heir to the Desert Kingdom of Skaghol. Her ambition had blinded her to the power of the Arqidun Empire, and as such she was punished accordingly for her failed secession.

“Auntie Shatui was nice. She always gave me cookies and we played a lot.”

“Hm. She could have been using you.”

Her pencil came to an audible halt. Her eyes narrowed at Aikondites. “No. Auntie Shatui liked playing with me. She looked happy whenever we played together.”

Aikondites’ eyes narrowed, placing a claw gently on her shoulder. “She could have used you as leverage.”

“Auntie Shatui always tickled me whenever she caught me in hide-and-seek.”

“This may be hard for you, Shensel, but-”

Shensel wrested free from his claw, turning to face him. Rosy cheeks now beet red, she threw her sketchbook and pencil at him, screaming “you’re wrong! Auntie Shatui loved me! She loved mother too! Go away, liar!” The child, with tears bursting forth, wailed and sobbed, running deeper into the cave. “I suppose it was premature to expect a child to understand.”

Aikondites returned to his stalagmite, curling up. So what if something happens to young Shensel? She’s not his responsibility. She’s simply a way to pass the few hours of his nigh immortal life. A human child that will age and die much like every other creature in the world. As he slowly felt sleep creep upon him, he thought of how he would pass time once he awoke from his slumber.

“Bad Aikondites. Auntie Shatui loved us.”

Shensel stomped the ground, as if trying to manifest the same dominance and strength over the elements that Aikondites did. Only difference was, she very carefully chose the flattest ground in rocky terrain to show her anger. While the cave itself wasn’t particularly dark, as more moss grew within the inner walls, Shensel still made sure to watch where she was going.

“The fight she had with mother was an accident. Mother didn’t mean to kill her.” She scampered up a ledge, dusting herself off before continuing her little rant.

“Yes, mother didn’t want to do it either. She cried when she did. Auntie Shatui just made a mistake and mother made a mistake.”

Slowly, she slid down a gentle slope. However, Shensel felt something yank her dress, and her straight slide down turned into a rolling tumble. Her body felt like it was a ragdoll being thrown around by her brother Delion. She came to a stop at level ground, still choking from the dust. Propping herself back up, she saw some granite with a piece of her dress still hanging on to it.

“Bad rock,” she choked out, nearing tears again. She shook her head around, sniffling in a trudge towards the cave. But soon, that feeling of bursting into tears replaced itself after her stomach growled, echoing into the cave.

Clutching her rumbling bellywith both hands, Shensel persevered, until her ears picked up a familiar sound.

Water, she thought, quickly climbing up a small hill of more rocks. But before she could even do anything, the small hill of rocks shifted, collapsing under her weight, and hurtling towards the water. Louder and louder.

Shensel felt the little edges of the rock scrape both skin and dress, before it was replaced with an unimaginable coldness. She couldn’t breathe. As her limbs flailed, she finally got a gasp of air, before being pulled back under. It was dark, and something kept splashing at her eyes.

Fear. Uncertainty. Exhaustion. Like a three-pronged attack, they struck her all at once. As she kept bobbing up and down, swallowing water instead of air, she could only let out one final gasp.

“Help.”

At once, she felt the warm embrace of something glossy and smooth. It wasn’t exactly soft or pleasant, but she couldn’t really feel much of anything except the pain behind her throat. Shensel felt some water leave her lungs, yet she would soon feel nothing as her consciousness slowly faded to black.

When Shensel awoke, it was because the sun’s rays had pierced through her fluttering eyelids. Rubbing them both, Shensel only sat up, yawning to herself. The maid will carry her out of the bed. Then she will undress her in the bathroom, giving her a good scrubbing, before she returned with a new dress and the notice to go to the family’s dining room. She waited. And waited. And waited.

Then she remembered that she was drowning. The afterlife seemed so bright, even with her eyes closed. It was warm too. She felt her lips curl into a smile. This felt nice. Too nice. She didn’t even feel hungry anymore.

“Young Shensel, what are you doing,” a voice rumbled. It reminded her of a tutor in the castle. He was always mean, and did whatever he wanted in their lessons. But he was intelligent, and never disrespected her. Yeah, the voice was just like that tutor.

“Young Shensel, I would advise you to open your eyes, in case you believe that the afterlife is as bright and warm as the afternoon.”

Then her eyes snapped open. This was no castle, nor was this the afterlife. It was a familiar cave entrance, with a dragon seated atop a rock.

“Mr. Aikondites,” she whispered.

“Good afternoon, Young Shensel. I see you are doing well.”

“Mmm…”

A wonderful smell wafted from in front of him. It was a juicy piece of meat, large and inviting. Shensel quickly stood up, before falling down just as fast.

“Please, you nearly drowned if not for my timely intervention. Seat yourself on your stone, and I shall bring your meal closer.”

Shensel squirmed as Aikondites tore the meat with his jaws, placing a sizeable chunk of roasted boar meat onto her lap. She ravaged the meat, chewing on it in a way that made Aikondites wonder whether or not she was secretly a dragon.

“A dragon may not enjoy doing this, but I will admit when a mistake has been made,” he said, as Shensel licked her fingers of any remaining juice. “I am sorry for offending you, young Shensel.”

“I’m sorry too, Mr. Aikondites,” Shensel said, twiddling her little thumbs together. “I called you a bad dragon. I got angry because you were right, I think.”

But Aikondites shook his head. “No, young Shensel. I was wrong. Shatui Elysard was an ambitious woman who wanted to free her people from the Empire. She could have taken a much simpler route by kidnapping and ransoming you. Yet she chose a full-on war, probably knowing she would lose to your mother.”

Shensel’s face was downcast.

“Please, do not take it as a dragon making an effort to please you. Take it as a victory, that you have bested my wisdom and knowledge.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Do you want to?” Her sketchbook and pencil came into view, clumsily held on by clawed fingers. Shensel could only laugh at this. It was a hearty, joyful laugh, picking up her beloved sketchbook and pencil.

The days turned to nights. Shensel’s curiosity, paired with the wisdom and teachings of a dragon, made for an explosive growth of knowledge. Ideas after learnings came rushing into the mind of a child, considered only a toddler by the whims of a renewed calendar system. But the bliss of a child, especially one born to the Royal Family, is not to last.

“Lady Shensel, where are you?”

Shensel gazed in the direction of the voice. Or rather, the crowd. A great throng of voices mixing together, all of which asking the same thing: where she was. The crowd then spilled out of the forest, at the helm of it being a very tear-stricken Hessinee followed by guards. Lots of them. Each armed with a weapon.

“Lady Shensel!”

Shensel looked nothing like the toddler that first came into the village. With most of her dress shredded, she wore the animal hide prepared by Aikondites, carrying with her a functioning bag, with her sketchbook and pencil on hand. Her hair was an absolute mess, wildly sticking out in various angles, caked with as much dirt as was on her face. But her eyes blazed with the same fiery spirit she always had, and she never lost that characteristic grin.

“Is that you, Lady Shensel?”

“Yes it is, Hessinee,” she shouted, flinging herself onto the attendant, who spun her around with the most joy she ever showed.

“Thank the Great Owl you’re alive. Please forgive my tardiness. The forest was so vast, and we had to send a falcon to your mother, and-”

“Don’t worry about it, Hessinee,” she said, patting her attendants head, as if she was a mother comforting her child. “I had a great time in the forest! Mr. Aikondites taught me so many things about the world!”

“Mr… Aikondites?”

“Yeah, he’s the dragon right there,” she pointed into the cave. But there was nothing. No sign of the breakfast she ate with him. No sign of the charred wood they had their campfire in. Not even the glistening of his scales, impossible to hide with.

“Lady Shensel, this must be taking a toll on you. Let us return to the imperial capital immediately.”

Shensel said nothing. The initial joy in her face quickly faded from sight as Hessinnee carried her in her arms. She could only stare at the cave that was slowly getting more distant, as the trees began to come in like a curtain of green.

But there it was. Right before the cave completely disappeared from sight. A pair of citrine eyes, with black slits running down vertically. And a voice that flowed through the air, meant only for her ears.

“Your bag. I left a small gift.”

In a hurry, she broke free from Hessinee’s loving grasp, running straight up to the guard in front of her. Hessinee chased, in fear that she may be ready to do something rather drastic, as the guard in front of her handed her bag. Within it, there were two books. Her beloved sketchbook, and a new book, with a cover made from the boars they preyed on. The title was clearly clawed on, though it was gently done so that the hide was left as intact as possible. Inside it, rather than paper, was something reminiscent of paper, though Shensel could not name it so.

“Dragontongue, a comprehensive manual on the language of the dragons.”

“Thus, the somewhat feral princess Shensel returned to the imperial castle, with tales of her adventure with the dragon Aikondites the Earth Shaker. Many simply dismissed her stories as the imagination befitting of a child, though she insisted otherwise. To everyone, including her amused mother, she also had a new moniker for herself: Shensel of the Dragon’s Wisdom. But that’s a tale for another time.”