Heathen Chronicles - Changed

Chapter 9 - The Shadows of History

Ntsakela's POV

I sat dozing off in my history lesson; I was bored and desperately wanted to go back to sleep. Behind me, I felt Tannah kick my chair to remind me to stay awake, even though the video we were watching was dreadfully dull. We were all struggling to stay conscious despite our best efforts and distractions.

Our teacher finally paused the video and looked around at his drowsy class. He paced the room, waiting for everyone to wake up, though we knew he was just using it as an excuse to stretch his own legs. Why did he pick such a boring video?

"It's an awesome video, right?" he said, attempting to quicken the awakening process by interacting with us.

The class rolled their eyes and sat up straight, stretching limbs and shaking the pins and needles from our hands.

"Look who I froze the frame on. Does anyone recognize him?"

"Isn't that the General Dr. Harper introduced us to?" I blurted out, shocked that the man looked as if he hadn't aged a single day. What was he, a vampire? Now, I was wide awake.

"Yes, it is. This was taken in his younger days, early twenties—maybe younger—before he became a general. He fought in a war that, to this day, no one has been able to determine who actually started. Even though it took down many men and women, we don't know anyone who was actually there other than the General," he explained.

"How old is he now? He still looks like he's in his twenties," Tannah asked.

"He's probably in his late forties. I'm actually not sure. I'll ask Dr. Harper when I see him, but you're right, he doesn't look that old, does he? Actually, let me ask him now." He walked to his desk, pulled out his phone, and started texting. He put it down and moved back to the front.

"Sir, you used your phone. That's a privilege drop," Shaylin commented with an arrogant smile. I rolled my eyes; he was so stupid sometimes.

"Very funny, but you know if I get a privilege drop, so does the rest of the class."

Everyone chuckled but kept quiet. We didn't want to risk it.

"I thought so. Now, moving on... he joined the war after a group of rebels known as the Exterminators allegedly killed his parents, who were doctors in a nearby village in Keraq. He's the last of his family. Or so we're told."

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Serina.

"I mean we don't know that for certain. We don't even know what the truth actually is." He walked back to the board and stared at the picture, grim-faced.

"But isn't it all written down? Someone had to record it for future reference," countered another boy.

"And who writes the history books? Which side do we actually hear from?" Silence met his question. "The winners. Those who win the war write the history books, which can make their opposing side everyone's enemy. Since his side won, they became the so-called heroes."

"But surely they should write the truth so mistakes aren't repeated?" asked Sandy, the new girl, innocently.

"They should, yes. But they won't. They couldn't risk making themselves look horrific. What's better: looking like a hero after telling a few lies, or looking worse than the enemy?"

Silence. There was only one answer.

"Sir? How old was he when he joined?" Leo asked.

"His family was killed around his eleventh birthday, so I'd say he was twelve. He trained for a couple of years before joining the war. In those days, recruiters didn't care about age as long as you could fight."