This’ll be interesting for sure. But I seriously hope we don’t have to resort to Plan B. Water has never been something I’ve enjoyed. Memories began to fill Mitrax’s head as he looked out towards the water…

“Don’t go out at night, sweetie. And especially don’t go into the waters. You’ll find them to be very unforgiving.” His mother’s soft, kind words were ingrained into his head starting from when he was but a hatchling. But he remembered the cold water vividly. Freezing, to his very core, the water was less welcoming than he had expected, even with his low expectations. As the waters enveloped him, he could see bubbles rising as he sank. He tried to call out for help, scream, but was answered with nothing. Not even with the sounds of silence. He flailed as he attempted to get himself to the surface, but he only continued to sink lower and lower, his arms and legs growing heavy, his muscles aching and burning at the lack of air.

But even as he sank, Mitrax looked up at the surface above him. Shimmering in the moonlight, shining with the brilliance of a thousand diamonds, it still caught his eye. In its own way, it’s… beautiful. He began to hallucinate the warmth of his home. The smiles of his family, the comfort of his mother’s arms, the light from the fire. I just want to touch it. Feel it one last time. The light from the fire was a stark contrast from the shimmering surface of the waters, Mitrax found himself reaching out, to touch it. To feel it. But even as his hands met the flames, he was met with nothing but the cold reality of the waters that surrounded him.

I guess this is it, huh. This is where I die. I… can’t believe it. This is how I go out…? No honor, no respect? I was really hoping it’d be something like old age, after I’d gained the respect of my own father. Hell, something even a little more extravagant would’ve been nice. I never even got to have my first drink with my family. Never got to see my baby sisters grow up… I… I’ll never get married… never have a family of my own either.

Mitrax felt his limbs giving up, and he took a forced breath. Water rushed into him, and he could feel the coldness filling his lungs, the salt making it burn all the way down. Mitrax felt himself close his eyes, and found himself wishing he was in bed, sleeping soundly, peacefully. As the world turned gray, Mitrax began wishing to some higher power, if one existed, for a chance to redo his choices, to turn back the clock. And as the gray turned to black, he found himself making one last thought. I… I just wanted to make them… happy.

An explosion brought Mitrax back to the present. The fire was bright, and it lit up the otherwise dark nighttime sky with a bright orange light, the crackling louder than– 

“Go!” Artuck yelled, pushing Mitrax to follow the group. Mitrax did as he was told, and as he ran, he saw the fire not too far from the gate. So they did fire that arrow. The guards were running that direction, to make sure nothing bad was happening, while the five of them snuck behind them into the encampment.

As they stormed in, they were met with the faces of three frightened soldiers, all too young to be serving, to put their lives on the line. But Artuck didn’t seem to care. As the eyes of one of the soldiers met Mitrax’s, he saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes. A look Mitrax recognized, because he’d worn that same expression so many times…

Mitrax’s father was your stereotypical ‘tough’ guy. He had joined the royal guard at a young age, and expected the same level of strength from everyone. As such, he was a burly and brutal man, even to his own family. Having talked about the ‘pride of the homeland’ so much led to Mitrax and his sister’s having the ideals of war, honor, and death in their heads constantly. Mitrax’s older sister embraced her father’s ideals with open arms. 

“Fight for our land! For our people!” She would yell whenever given the chance. But Mitrax did not agree. There were other ways of doing things, after all. Less… brutal ways, at least.

“Why can’t we just… talk things out differently? Wars only lead to more suffering, after all. And besides, the rest of the world sees us as brutes, like the orcs,” Mitrax shoved a large spoonful of broth into his mouth as he spoke.

His sister came into the room and placed her hands on the table, looking at Mitrax.

“Why not? Fighting keeps your mind sharp, and you can also get in some good exercise,” she said teasingly as she sat down. Mitrax was the only male at the table that night, as his father was out on nightly patrols.

“No, no,” Mitrax set down his spoon and placed his hands in front of him, as if he was holding an orb.

“We can fight with words as well, like the wizards of old. Their spells can win fights just as much as brute force can.” Mitrax looked up to see disappointed faces all around him. Except for his grandmother, who looked caught in some daydream. 

They don’t understand me. I guess my words will continue to go unheard…

Mitrax knew he’d never be some strong knight, or a powerful warrior whose fists won him his battles. But since Mitrax went to school, he’d learned about all kinds of magic, and from then, he knew what his fate was. Not to be a knight, or warrior of legend, but a wizard, an alchemist; hell, even a cleric sounded promising. 

“I remember,” his grandmother started, clearly still daydreaming, “wizards would always use their magic for those tricks of theirs. Shiny lights, big noises, but awed people nonetheless.” She adjusted the crystalline glasses that rested upon her snout.

“Mom, please don’t go starting those tales of yours at the dinner table,” Mitrax’s mom put her head in her hand, putting her palm against her face as she sighed.

“You’ll put ideas in their heads. Especially the little ones.” She gestured to two small dragonborns sitting in taller chairs. Mitrax couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“What’s so wrong with magic?”

“You know how your father feels about magic, Mitrax,” Mitrax’s mom stood abruptly.

“Just… stick to the traditional ways of the guard. They pay well, at least.” She sat back down slowly.

“Just… please… sweetie… don’t go making your father upset again.” Mitrax remembered the night his father caught him trying to study a magic book. His anger that night ignited a passion in Mitrax. I won’t stand for this. They need to listen. And if my own mother won’t listen, who will I have to turn to? Mitrax balled his fists as he spoke.

“He’s just an old school prude. He wants to force me to join the royal guard! He expects me to lift weights I never knew possible. I’m only seventeen fucking years old, Mom! And he wants me to lift a horde of weight, every day! I don’t see why I should work for a man who doesn’t even want to say my name. To a man who doesn’t even see me as a son anymore! I–” Mitrax’s temper was getting the better of him, and he could feel the fire beginning to burn in his throat. I’m no better than my father if I can’t control myself. Mitrax excused himself from the table and left. The cool night breeze always helped to cool him down, him and his temper both. The cool air allowed to relax, even if momentarily, and allowed him to recollect his thoughts. He was never the man his father wanted him to be, but he was the only son he’d gotten.