In many ways, Lou was lost as Tate walked away from them. He stared after him, dazed. He'd never thought of it that way before. Never thought of it from that perspective. Now he felt like an idiot.
Now, there was a bit of hesitation in any of those thoughts. The Empire was not a place that was comfortable to hold opinions contrary to those put out by the Imperial Family. He'd grown up in such a world. A world where it was against nature to do anything but flow with the opinion of the Emperor. Everyone knew it was the Emperor who promoted Tate, and that Tate was his godson. Everyone knew that Tate alone received the occasional letter on the front lines from his "doting" godfather.
Lou had never thought or maybe allowed himself to view it from the other side. For the first time, he imagined himself as he was at fifteen. What would it have felt like to be told you are going to fight in a war? The immediate and honest answer was that he'd be terrified even though he would try not to show it. How could he not be terrified, after all, he was just a kid.
He felt shame wash over him and humiliation. He almost couldn't look at Tate's retreating back or at any of the dragons present. He'd looked around as he spoke, he'd seen the way they looked at him. He'd told the briefest of summaries about Tate's legend and as his excitement grew their faces darkened equally.
The dragons did not approve, nor did they find it an exciting story.
He thought back over all the times in his life he'd heard Tate's name sung or told. Like the time when he was just eleven. Someone was reading aloud a bulletin with news from the war. The majority of the paper had been about Tate and Aquana, the famous duo, capturing a supply caravan. The words on the paper had sounded so amazing, the writer had been talented for sure. He'd heard mutterings from a few people, a few of the village women but he'd never thought much of those words.
"What have we come to, a babe sent to fight our wars." Had been the quiet muttering of an elderly woman to her daughter. She'd quickly and nervously been shushed by the daughter. Lou could remember hearing this and then dismissing it. Tate Delmone was no baby, he may be young but he was a great Dagon rider. He was fighting for them, for their home and their safety.
Maybe that's another part of why he'd been so disillusioned at first when he had at last come face to face with this living legend. Even though he had always known in his head that Tate was young he'd still always pictured the great warrior was tall, beefy, and bearded. His eighteen-year-old instructor at the Academy had not been that.
All the visions of physical stature and maturity had all fallen apart in front of the real thing. Of course, he'd had his other messed up reasons for being such a brat, to begin with, but now that he thought of it this had been a part of it too.
He didn't say another word as Tate ran the dagger course over and over again. What could he say? He was in no position to either encourage or critique. Even though he had reached new heights in his own career as a dragon rider before stumbling into this realm, he was far from what Tate had ever been.
All this time he'd idolized Tate, called him "big brother," asked favors of him, relied on him, and even at times mistreated him. Who was he to have any words or thoughts about Tate Delmont? He might go as far as to say they were friends at this point in Lou's life. At one time they'd been master and apprentice, mentor and mentee. Now, as someone at least a little closer to Tate's level friends were what they were, or maybe on some days very good acquaintances.
With a sinking in his chest, he began to think that maybe the latter was the truer description. Why? Because he didn't know Tate nearly as well as he thought he did. Sure, there were things he knew for sure. He knew that Tate was a kind person at heart, kind enough to take an annoying kid under his wing when he clearly hadn't wanted to at the time, and he was a good teacher. Tate was brave, anyone who argued that was a fool. Tate was one of the best fighters in the human realm, this had been proven by the fires of war itself.
Beyond those facts, Lou knew much less about Tate Delmont. Just now it had only taken a few seconds for Lou to feel like he didn't know the man at all. He'd just never seen Tate as anything other than the hero he'd been describing and never seen him as anything but devoted to the cause and just in all his doing. He'd been a fool. He knew intellectually that wars were not over things so simple as black versus white, wrong versus right.
Why had he clung to such a childish understanding of the war or Tate? He couldn't answer for it.
Bezhar's arms were crossed as he shifted to stand parallel to Lou. They both watched as Tate ran and as he threw the daggers.
"You've known Tate for a long time?" Bezhar asked not looking at him.
"Since I was thirteen," Lou answered also not looking at Bezhar.
"Is that what it's like in your realm, truly? Does the one that rules over you send your children to fight in wars?"
Lou hesitated. "No, Tate was an exception."
"Why?" Bezhar asked almost forcefully. Lou did glance at him then. The simple one-word question seemed to be asking more than Lou could answer.
Again Lou hesitated, now having to justify his earlier words not only to Bezhar but also to himself. "Because...Tate was special." He supplied lamely.
"How so? Don't get me wrong, even I'll admit that he's surprised me. I didn't think humans were so tough, or such quick learners."
"That's just it," Lou interjected, "most humans aren't. He was only five when the dragon Aquana hatched for him. In our realm dragons are partners, we believe the dragons in the eggs choose us. Children as young as Tate was are not allowed to touch the eggs."
"Why not? How did he manage it?"
"They are not because I can tell you from experience that these marks you're all so disgusted by are incredibly painful to receive. It just happens, one moment you're just touching the smooth surface of a warm egg and the next that warmth has turned to fire and it's burning your arm..." he took a breath remembering his own choosing, "it's excruciating." He continued. "As for why Tate touched one, that's because someone left the door to their family vaults unlocked. Tate's family is the one who keeps the eggs for each year in the vault of their estate."
Bezhar shook his head as if trying to rid it of a strange image. "Wait a second, did you just say all the eggs are kept in his family treasure room?"
"Vault, yes." Lou corrected.
"What about their mothers, their fathers?" Bezhar questioned.
"What do you mean?"
"The female who lays the egg and her mate, are they really okay with their egg being taken?" Bezhar looked absolutely bewildered at this idea.
Lou shrugged, "I've never heard otherwise. It's just what's done. A female dragon lays an egg and three days later she flies to surrender it at the Delmont family estate.
Bezhar looked shocked. His eyes were wide as if he'd just heard the most scandalous gossip. He shook his head as if to clear it again. "So what you're saying is that Tate had an egg hatch when he touched it when he was just five?"
Lou nodded.
"Hummm, how did he do that then?"
Lou cocked his head. "What do you mean?"
Bezhar didn't answer. He was staring at the ground in front of him seemingly deep in thought.
Lou wanted to ask more. He could tell from that brief conversation that dragon eggs were handled very differently in the human realm from how the wild dragon eggs were handled here. He wondered what the differences were and why such off-handed information had caused Bezhar to go silent. Of all the things that had been said, things that he knew had shocked Bezhar, it was this subject that made him unable to speak?
A loud curse rang out over the yard. Lou's attention snapped back to Tate. He was hanging by one hand from one of the rods. His breath caught but in a smooth movement, Tate had swung his body back up on top of the obstacles with now practiced ease.
There it was again, the hero Lou couldn't help but admire. Who else could do this kind of task and become so adept at the strange situation in just a matter of weeks? The same rang true as Tate threw a dagger and it hit home. Who else could have learned such a skill so quickly?
Even though Lou tried to tamper it down for both his sake and Tate's it rose anyway, he couldn't help it. He admired Tate Delmont, who in his eyes was still the greatest Dragon Rider to ever live.