The Odd Dragon Out: Reckoning of the Cinder-Born

The days seemed to breeze by, and without the tensile rigidity of horror that Ginger had thought would be pursuing him since the first rise of the reddish sun, to the fall of the peach golden one.

On the same day that Ginger first got acquainted with his classmates and his Prime Instructor, the plump boy got to learn the differences in time between the Wild and Ravi, which were rather... magical.

A day in Ravi was thirty-seven hours, and the first eighteen and some hours were represented by the arching rise and fall of a large red sun, while the rest relied on a smaller, peach-golden one for representation.

The skies would lightly change color during the separate segments of time, but the violet-blue hue remained dominant throughout the day, further emphasising the idea that this was Ginger's new norm.

The months in a year were similar between Ravi and the Wild, which caused Ginger great relief when he learned this. The seasons were somewhat different, but at least he wouldn't have too much of a hard time getting used to the oddity.

Also, because of this discovery, it now made sense to Ginger why Ancor had said that here in Ravi, he wasn't a boy of nine, but rather, a dragonling of fourteen years. Though, it still seemed weird.

Did his body mature in terms of the time in Ravi? If not, a lot about him – the manifestation of his scales and all – wouldn't make sense.

Sadly, the revelation about time didn't stop Ginger from having a rather difficult time keeping up with the courses he had to learn.

During the first two days of the six-day Stride – which was the equivalent of the five week days – Ginger had gotten acquainted with the Professors for the six courses he would be taking.

He absolutely loathed half of them.

Between irritable dragons that behaved as though every day was meant to be a fatal test of life, and older, MORE irritable ones that viewed his youth as a curse that was to be exorcised... Ginger nearly snapped.

The books issued for free per course – and thank Fetid for that – were as thick as his thigh, and probably more ancient than Ancor's hat, which meant that they had a deep and harder-to-read variation of the dragon language compared to what Ginger had learned from Ancor. And here he was already struggling with the more modernized, version.

"What is this rubbish? What does this even mean?" Ginger had angrily said to himself while reading from a passage in a book called 'The Fruit For the Dragon Heart' in the library. This led to him getting a stern mouthful from the librarians.

There were many of those old, glass-wearing, googly-eyed forces of nature, and unfortunately they, much like Professor Lyall, had stored his name and face to memory with subtle, satisfied smiles.

That did not bode well.

If not for the fact that First Years were restricted to the fifth floor when it came to theory classes – with a library of their own – Ginger would have fled to another.

Speaking of fleeing, the course Ginger hated the most was called Expired Times and Diluted Histories. It just so happened to be taught by his second most hated Professor, an aged, straight-backed, and aloof dragon who liked to start every lesson with a sophisticated quote that no dragon of this generation could recognize.

Worse yet, after the boring introductory quote, the man would behave as though his old jaw was sustained by the heavens.

He had the gift of crisp, infinite speech, and less than desirable coherence - in Ginger's opinion.

The plump dragonling had already filled half of the book Ira had given him for taking notes just from just two days of lessons with this Professor!

Apparently, this particular course wouldn't be affected by the Second Burning, as it barely applied any practical knowledge.

"So much for Principal Phoenix's speech..." Ginger had said absentmindedly only to get a vicious look from the old man. His hearing was impeccable.

As for the placement for the teacher Ginger hated the most, it could only go to the man whom he had been shocked to see as part of his set of instructors.

Professor Noam Mara.

Quite surprisingly, the young-looking dragon was popular among the girls from the class because of his immovable facial muscles, broad shoulders, and of course, blonde locks.

Ginger maintained that this man looked rather dashing, but by the third day of the Stride, he couldn't see the appeal of the man's teaching style in his designated course – Equipped Armament Creation and Usage – not to mention the Professor himself, anymore.

All Ginger saw was a cackling demon under Mara's locks. As for the reason for the hatred, it was because Professor Mara was determined to make Ginger stand out.

In each lesson, he would have Ginger come forward and do the most ridiculously simple things, like holding out types of simple weapons on display while Mara explained what they were made of, who made them, and how strong they were.

More often than not, Professor Mara would end up issuing confusing instructions to Ginger with a straight face, and the plump dragonling would be stuck looking like an idiot trying to follow them properly.

"Hold the sword out. Out! As if you mean to stab someone! Dear Vermillion, boy, I mean the sword, not your arse!" was such an example of how the harrowing scenes usually ended.

Fillys and Alcaeus had had a good laugh at him for several days following such incidents, but Ginger slowly got used to becoming the joke of the Stride.

Thankfully, not everything was bad.

The food from the Feeding Hall was spectacular, Ginger had to say.

As a rule, he found that the most odd-looking foods had the best tastes, or at least according to his tongue. Steamed gerbil balls, Grand Shark Spines, Drooping Featherheads, and Spiked Slay Snake were among Ginger's favorite foods. Even if he didn't have anyone to chat with during Feeding times, he still enjoyed filling himself up.

Another piece of good news was the fact that after this Stride, there was the first Breather of the school year – the equivalent of a weekend, which followed a Stride with three days of rest.

As he heard from passing students, during a Breather, everyone was allowed some time out of the school into the small town beyond the bridge – where Ginger had spawned. Going anywhere else required clearance, but all in all, it was a chance to enjoy life without the dragging stresses of school.

By the fourth day of the Stride, Ginger was already tired of waiting for the Breather to come. He still had one last pouch remaining from Ancor, this one with money the Shaman had said worked in Ravi. Ginger could spend it on what he wanted.

Beyond good food and rest days, though, there was the Second Burning. After a few days, Ginger had started to get as eager as everyone else in his class to get to learning how to use his Kardia.

He shed his apprehension and embraced the idea that he would be getting a step closer to learning what he needed. That was an exciting prospect.

And beyond the reasons he desperately needed Kardia, Ginger was also trying to honor Ancor's wishes. Making his own path meant dedicating himself to getting stronger in more than just resolve, right?

A new fact he learned was that there were four different types of Kardia behaviour, all of which produced different effects within a dragon body's. This invigorated Ginger's enthusiasm. During the Second Burning, he would find out just what kind of Kardia he had.

The boy got even more interested when his bunkmate elaborated a bit more on this. He had chanced getting a question in.

"Good grief! You don't know even that?" his bunkmate, Reiss Adel, had said in an irritated tone. "There are four types of Kardia traits or behaviour. What your Kardia does will determine what kind of Out Course you take, and the kinds of abilities you will awaken in your Second Year."

The dwarfish dragon hadn't elaborated further despite speaking with his head in the air, as though it made him a few centimeters taller.

Ginger was happy nonetheless.

Second Year had as many surprises as the first. But that was another issue.

Perhaps soon, he would be as strong as Ancor.

*

On the night of the fourth day of the Stride, Ginger was in his bed which was fitted with the most basic of sheets for those like him who would be unfortunate enough to not have blankets of their own.

But it was no true problem.

Even though the nights of the first half of the school term were a bit cold, dragons were as resistant to cold almost as much as they were to heat. His naked feet did feel a bit of the chill though.

Ginger yawned. Most of his dorm mates were asleep, save for a few. Reiss was among them. Ginger could hear pages flipping above him.

He couldn't do more reading for his courses. He hadn't seen much of a change in his ability to comprehend the older books.

'I'm going to have to work a lot harder than everyone else. So far, I haven't seen anything I can't handle with practice. I can push through. Maybe Reiss will become friendly enough for me to ask bigger questions... ' Ginger thought with a smile while turning to his side.

Before he knew it, his vision had dipped to black, and he no longer saw the many beds aligned with his sight.

Only familiar images that brought up a myriad of emotions... and motions visited the spot behind his eyes.